tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15780934847940554752024-03-05T06:02:11.371-07:00Where Truths CollideWhere truths collide.
The truth about God and the truth about us.
It's rarely pretty. It's never perfect. But it's always good [in the end].Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-54290526261101411862017-08-07T14:37:00.002-06:002017-08-07T14:40:55.207-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: The Call to Ministry<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Orlando, FL pre-babies. Emily...or Britney Spears? That is the question. </td></tr>
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We sat across the glass top table in the dining room at my grandmother's house, which we were renting at the time. Sweet Gra'ma let us paint the whole house whatever color we wanted. And rip up the carpet to paint the slab. I honestly credit a great deal of my decorating sense to the freedom she granted me to make her little blue house my own for those few years we lived in Ruston. In some ways, that little blue house was my saving grace because Ruston was not an easy season for me or for our marriage. Don't get me wrong, Ruston was lovely. Ruston is lovely. And the church we were a part of was full of wonderful people. And I had a bit of a dream job for the bulk of our time there, but my heart was not in a dreamy sort of place. I was young and selfish and gripping tightly to what I thought life was supposed to look like, as if there's any such thing.<br />
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So, amidst mustard yellow walls (I didn't say my decorating sense at the time was great) Josh told me that he thought God was calling him into vocational ministry - that several people had verbally affirmed him in that calling and that he wanted to go to seminary. </div>
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I can't remember what my response was at the time. I'm pretty sure my initial response was to be supportive. If grown-ups (which we very clearly were not in my mind) were telling him to go into ministry, obviously he should. And my knee-jerk is always to give a grand, supportive, I'm-all-in, "Yes." Later, after I've gleefully walked into a thing, I realize that I am just not up to the task. So, I appear to be changing my mind constantly when the reality is I said, "Yes," before I even knew what my mind thought about it. </div>
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Within a month or so, Josh had quit his job at the bank, started part time as the Men's Minister at our local church, and applied for seminary. I had been working at a local Collegiate Ministry - and I felt like I was the right amount of rough around the edges for that, but the more I thought about functioning as a pastor's wife, the more I wanted to run for the hills. </div>
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I cuss a little. And I'm sassy. And I don't play the piano. Josh is way nicer than me. And he likes to be at church all the time. And he grew up in ministry. I feel a lot more at home with people who wear their ugly on the outside.<br />
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So, I made a decision about me and about "the church" - and it was that we didn't belong together forever. It took me so, so many years of frustration and bitterness and wrestling to realize that we absolutely do. We do because if we claim Jesus as our Savior, we belong with the church. Josh's vocation didn't change that fact.<br />
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We wound up in Orlando, FL within a year. I was sure this was going to be our grand adventure and then we would be back in Louisiana. God had other plans. We spent the next 7 years there. Josh grew and thrived in ministry. I could see that he was called to it, but I couldn't see that I was.<br />
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Can I tell you something? I failed Josh for a great many years. I didn't know how to support him - truly I didn't. I wish someone had told me how or showed me how or made me snap the heck out of it - I know people probably tried, so I wish I had been tenderhearted enough to be changed. I wish I had embraced it and even been grateful for it. I wish I wasn't so sure that I was all wrong for the job of pastor's wife. I wish I had rested confidently in God's sovereignty. I wish a lot of things about those 8 years.<br />
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The good news is, I got there eventually. The bad news is that although Josh bore my selfishness with a great deal of grace, we both learned to silo our hearts in the arena of passion and calling. We didn't share the same passions or callings - we don't still - but we never learned to let our passion for one another to spill over into our respective areas of calling. We are still struggling to do this well. Today.<br />
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What I hope you have heard over the course of this series is that life was (is) still happening, we were (are) still making memories and building our union. We have done (are doing) it imperfectly but we have done (are doing) it unequivocally together. So the life the we have built , the joy, the tears, the bed, the babies that we share - every day is another day we have done together, another day we have stayed. God honors this, y'all. It isn't for nothin'!<br />
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Can I encourage you today? It's usually not too late to fix it. All those missteps that add up to some pretty significant holes in our marriages, they can be mended. It just requires a great deal of very uncomfortable honesty - mostly with ourselves, and the grace that only our Father can extend to heal up and seal up all the cracks and broken spots - and day in and day out work - and commitment, always commitment. There is hope, friend. There is always hope in Jesus!<br />
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Writing this series has been such a joy for me! It has been a gift in my own marriage. I hope that it has encouraged you, too. Thank you for showing up and reading the words of our story week after week. It's an honor the be able to share them!</div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-64968832542029850882017-07-17T20:36:00.002-06:002017-07-17T20:36:26.853-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: The Proposal and Wedding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One weekend on a trip home for my twenty first birthday, Josh took me out on a date to celebrate. He elaborately planned for us to relive our firsts: First date - dinner at Logan's Steakhouse. I felt like this was a little lame for my twenty first birthday. Then he had procured our church theatre through connections in the right places so that we could watch <i>The Sixth Sense</i> all over again - just the two of us. Then he drove us out to Toledo Bend, to that very same dock - where we danced and talked and generally floated on a cloud of bliss.<br />
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Back then, I wasn't so great at bliss. I tended to control the life right out of it. I'm not perfect at it now, but I've learned so much about control - that I never really had any to begin with and even if I did, there's not a whole lot of joy or adventure in holding things so tightly anyway. So, on the way back to the car - thoroughly annoyed that Josh hadn't proposed in such a beautiful, perfect setting - I mentioned that this really would have been the perfect spot for him to pop the question. Josh through raised eyebrows and in a slightly annoyed voice said, "Sorry." I tried to laugh it off and then got very carsick on the way home. So lovely.<br />
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He still proposed...homey really loved me.<br />
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Then he pulled back up to the church - our church - the church where we'd grown together, spent so, so many hours together, identified essential common interests for any thriving relationship - common interests and convictions like faith and family and God's good, good Word. And also the place where we played wildly as children, really - silly and free and safe. Our foundation was laid there in so many ways both as individuals and as a couple. Of course he took me back to Calvary.<br />
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We walked into the sanctuary that was lit only by candle light on the stage. Josh got down on one knee on the stage where we had worshipped over and over and over again and asked me to be his wife. He said a lot of sweet things, all of which we have on video thanks to Jacob Upshaw and his gang - but the thing that I remember most is this, "If I serve you and you serve me and we serve God, we will have a good, happy life."<br />
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I squealed emphatically, clicking my little kitten heels all over the stage wildly, unable to bridle the sheer joy that coursed through every vein in my blissfully naive twenty one year old body. This man - heaven help me - this man - he was finally going to be mine and I his forever and ever. It was truly a spectacular dream.<br />
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Let it be noted that Josh can pull out some serious romantic big guns when he wants to.<br />
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We were engaged and our senior year generally just flew by from that moment on. There were a few little hiccups here and there, of course. Like when Josh forgot to show up for my Senior English Project Presentation - the thing I spent the entirety of my last semester of college (okay, okay - the last 3 weeks...tops) working on. It was kind of a big deal. It was a Pass/Fail sort of thing - and I needed to pass to get my degree. I arrived back at my house to find him sitting on my couch with flowers. He'd forgotten. Oh what a foreshadowing that was of things to come.<br />
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There was one significant fight just a month before we got married. I grew up with an explosive temper that only tortured the people in my immediate family. By this point, I had mostly learned to control it by removing myself from the situation until I could chill the stink out. So, Josh and I were moving our stuff into our new apartment about a month before the wedding. We had never really had to work together on anything. Our lives were so separate in so many ways that working with one another on projects and life in general was new for us. Thus - moving did not go so well that first time around. Clearly God wanted to teach us a thorough lesson about being good at moving together because we have found ourselves doing it rather often! I found myself on the verge of a full on ballistic yelling show. So, I got in the car and went for a drive. It's what I did. Josh was appalled. Appalled I tell you. He thought that this was a sign that I was a runner. He even brought it up in our pre-marital counseling during which I received a literal slap on the hand for my actions. I hold to this day that my stepping away for a bit was a grand gift, a highly protective act of love. Twelve years later, Josh would likely say the same.<br />
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Our wedding was lovely and meaningful and terribly fun. I loved planning it. I loved the ceremony. I loved seeing Josh standing at the end of the aisle. I loved our officiant, Jack, because he and his family knew and loved us both so very well. He married us, and he was rooting for us - and he's proved it over and again all these years later. Like the proposal, I don't remember a lot of what Jack said in his message except these two things (my paraphrase):<br />
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<li>Emily, Josh loves you. He will never intentionally hurt you with his words or actions. Trust him. </li>
<li>Josh, Emily has big plans for this family. She wants to see God move and work through it. Listen to her. </li>
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And to this day, those two things can nearly dissolve any argument. Trust him. Listen to her. Gosh, I needed to remember them tonight. </div>
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Next week come back to read about Josh's call into ministry, how I responded to it, and how it all shifted the course of our life! Click here to <a href="http://emilypblackwell.blogspot.com/search/label/tdadtamarriage" target="_blank">read our story</a> from the beginning.</div>
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Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-1172762484287471802017-07-10T14:50:00.001-06:002017-07-10T14:53:16.184-06:00What Wonder Woman Taught Me about Marriage<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I'm going to take a brief pause from our story this week to tell you about how <i>Wonder Woman</i> made me cry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Josh and I love super hero movies. We know, we know. The plot is predictable; the stories essentially repeat themselves over and over again; and the scripts are always borderline cheesy. But this is why we love them, friends. I love to watch good triumph over evil again and again and again - in a world that is not real full of people who are pretty. Superhero movies comfort me, quite frankly. And Josh likes the battles scenes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As a result, <i>Wonder Woman</i> was an easy choice for us on our date night the weekend it opened. Before arriving, I knew little to nothing of the story of <i>Wonder Woman</i>. I never saw the sixties version starring Lynda Carter. I knew she wore red and blue. The end. I had no idea what to expect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Can I tell you that from the moment of the opening shot on the island of <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Themyscira as the Amazon's trained with one another and then a bit later fought in legitimate combat, I was transfixed? Here were all of these beautiful, muscular, curvy women fighting with intentionality and fierce, robust, strength. For one, the big-boobed, big-hipped, big-thighed, all around curvy girl inside of me breathed out in utter gratitude and awe. For another, to have it communicated to me from the big screen that there is a warrior nature inside of me, gosh it was empowering. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">And as much as I loved all of that, I was preparing myself for this to be a "Woman Power" movie. You know the kind - that says that women really don't need men, that we are self-sufficient and men are really just dumb props. I was prepared to feel really bummed about that because I don't agree. Men are as important to women as they are different from them - and vise versa. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Then Steve Trevor appears (Chris Pine) and by his every action emits a deep sense of respect - albeit surprise - toward the Amazon women, particularly Diana (Gal Gadot). He doesn't demean or gawk or condescend. Neither is he stupid or weak or incapable. He practices restraint when you expect him to make a move, empowers Diana when you expect him to take over, and demonstrates determination to protect her when you expect him to display her as a trophy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">On the flip side, Diana is somehow able to remain deeply compassionate and forcefully strong. She asks questions of Trevor that she doesn't know the answer to, receiving his knowledge with humility and grace. She doesn't discard him or push him away believing she can live without him. Instead, she approaches him with honest curiosity and unashamed affection. She doesn't jerk away when he places his hand on her back. She isn't determined to appear stronger even though, in this movie, she IS physically stronger. Simultaneously, she refuses to shrink away from her calling in order to fall in line with men alongside her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">They fight long and hard and smart and desperate under a deep sense of responsibility. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He is strong. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">She is strong. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He is driven by honor. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">She is driven by compassion. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He is fighting in the physical realm. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">She is fighting in the "spiritual" realm. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He sacrifices his body. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">She sacrifices her control and clings instead to hope.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Friends, this is what marriage can be. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I know women who are fighting battles their men know nothing of. Spiritual battles that wage in the heavenlies against the hearts and souls of their marriages, their children, their friends, their churches, their cities, their countries, and their own selves. They are fierce and strong and compassionate and fortitudinous. They come in the form of little old ladies, young, single women, mamas beside cribs, and kick butt career women. Do not underestimate the power of compassion, prayer, and sheer will in the hands of a woman.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I know men who are fighting battles their women know nothing of. Physical battles of provision and sacrifice in a world that demands they be either passive or barbaric. They are fighting hard to be strong and kind, to lift their wives, their children, their friends, their churches, their cities, their countries high above themselves and their own desires. They are bold and sound when the world is loud and confusing. They come in the form of retired men, millenials seeking to be more than what the world has labeled them, daddy's beside cribs while the mamas get some much needed rest, white collar corporate bosses and blue collar tradesmen. Do not underestimate the power of honor, prayer, and self-sacrifice in the hands of a good man. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In the end, the world needed them both. In the end, they needed one another. God stitched us together - man and woman - on purpose. In order for us to win the battle that wages against our homes, our churches, and our world we must all - man and woman - be willing to pick up the weapons God has given us and fight with every fiber of our being. It isn't either or in our marriages, friends. It's both and.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">So, as the movie came to a close, I was moved to the point of tears - mostly just because I saw a glimpse of what I think God created marriage to be. And that encouraged me and challenged me and made me tender toward my man. For that, thanks to Hollywood - but mostly, thanks to a God who weaves Himself into the hearts and minds of humanity, who takes whatever He wants and speaks through it to whomever He pleases - to a God who possesses all truth and all creativity and all goodness. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Also, if you are looking for a good date night movie, this is your ticket. It's clean and moving and well-acted. And Chris Pine. Good glory. And Gal Gadot. Sweet heaven. There's something for everyone. You're welcome.</span></span></div>
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Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-89718100289751693142017-07-03T13:16:00.002-06:002017-07-03T20:44:41.149-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: Spain, Peru, and a Hot Springs Wedding ChapelJosh and I fell right back into our relationship, but in a new and better way - at first. I started sending him a "Question of the week." There were things, I realized, that we still didn't know about each other. Real and important things that we needed to learn and know. So, I started thinking of questions. I wrote them on the blank side of an index card and wrote my answer on the back. Then, I'd drop it in the campus mail and wait for his reply.<br />
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I need to stop and say that God really is generous and kind. He led me to do something that is a pretty important part of pre-marital counseling without me even realizing what was happening. He also began to reveal an important part of my and Josh's communication styles. To this day - if there is something important I want to know from Josh or need to discuss with him, I email him about it first. This gives him time to process it before we have a verbal conversation about whatever it may be. This, 9 times out of 10, helps us avoid frustrating arguments with one another. Now, some people think this is weird - that we have to write one another and communicate through lists and such - but I say, "You do you." Marriage is no joke, and you do what you need to do to make it work. We write one another - that works for us.<br />
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We also very quickly fell back into our struggle with sexual sin. Now, first I want to tell you that Josh and I were virgins when we married. That wasn't necessarily because of our desire to obey God as much as it was our genuine fear of getting caught. We were in love. We had been in love for a lot of years but this get-back-together was the final one and we both knew it. This was the person we were going to marry, but graduation - and therefore marriage - was still a long way off. And, quite frankly, we just wanted to sleep together already.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture makes me swoon to this day. That man - glory he's always made my heart beat fast. We were just so smitten with each other - and entirely unaware of what the real world held for us. In some ways, that was a gift, one that tied us together.</td></tr>
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But, we kept living our separate college lives - going on dates and enjoying each other's company, laughing and studying and talking - of course - but also absolutely incapable of not stumbling for the two and a half - almost three - years we dated after that final reunion.<br />
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Sexual temptation and sin is hard to talk about because I want to be clear that the things that we did, the sex that we wanted so desperately to have - they were absolutely God-given desires. They are ordained, blessed, and applauded by Him after we say - "Yep. Me and you. Forever. Promise," spiritually and legally. So, when I say "sin" I'm not talking about sex or any of the stuff that goes with it within the confines of marriage. I'm also not talking about the desires. I'm talking about our failure and inability to control our physical bodies from doing all the things that God says to reserve for marriage. We were at fault here. We did not make good choices about being alone and about accountability, etc. We weren't helpless. We were wrong. BUT the Bible also speaks to this - and not being tempted beyond what we can bear is a thing.<br />
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That being said, the struggle led to nothing surprising for anyone who has ever dealt with sexual entanglement: over-attachment on my part, tension between the two of us, constant frustration, and just a general and overall focus on sex - doing the things, talking about how we needed to stop doing the things, talking about how great marriage was going to be when we could do all the things we wanted to. It became exhausting.<br />
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Nearly once a week we would drive the winding road to Hot Springs, AR, to eat at <i>Chile's</i> or <i>On the Border</i>, and on the way back, with our bellies full and every piece of us wishing that he didn't have to drop me off at my dorm room, we would pass this little side of the road wedding chapel. And sometime during our junior year, I began saying - every single time, "Let's just stop. I will absolutely marry you tonight. We can still have a big wedding later, but let's just get married tonight." Josh being the ever-responsible, ever-sensible one would always chuckle and say, "No, you would be so sad if your family wasn't at our wedding." And he was right, but I also still remember that ache - the desire just to be with the one my soul loved.<br />
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Josh and I aren't in full agreement about this to this day, but parents, coming from a girl who lived it, if you see that your children are in love with one another and also committed to honoring God through their marriage and their life together, would you at least consider praying about helping them marry before they graduate? I firmly believe this is a case by case situation, and I understand the practical wisdom of making sure they can support themselves. However, the consequences of three years of sexual struggle contributed to our first year(s) of marriage being enormously disheartening. Marriage had become our idol - and it's no secret that idols always disappoint.<br />
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During those years, I moved to Spain for three months to study abroad. What I can tell you is that my over-attachment to Josh because of our sexual struggles led to a very miserable trip overseas for me. That is the bottom line. I wanted to be with my other half because, aside from a technicality, he pretty much already was. This makes me so sad for a number of reasons but mostly because I missed out on so much due to my desire to be with him. He never demanded those things of me, but I couldn't sort it all out. I needed him and had no idea why I needed him so desperately.<br />
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At some point during those two years, Josh headed to Peru for a mission trip. I remember seeing something come alive in him through the stories and pictures he had to share. I also remember feeling something very much like envy at the time - because he was able to live so full in those moments that were separate from me, and I was not. To this day, Josh lives each moment as it comes. Also, he's a man - a highly independent, self-reliant man that isn't much for all the feelings. I always knew he loved me when we were together, but I never was sure he thought about me much when we were not. This isn't to say he didn't think about me, but he couldn't quite communicate it in a way that I could understand well.<br />
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I know it probably sounds like I was this weak little co-dependent girl who had no life of her own. That wasn't the case. I did. After that last break-up, I woke up to myself again. I had friends, held positions, went on trips, and generally enjoyed life - even if Josh wasn't part of it all. There was something inside me, though, that was warring, and I didn't know quite how to cope with it.<br />
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Today, we still struggle with the very same things. I have learned to extend Josh some grace in the "think about me during the day" department. He just doesn't do that a lot, and when he does, he doesn't think to tell me about it. He lives full and complete where he is, which is away from me most of the day. This isn't a testament of his love (or lack thereof) for me. It's just who he is. And to be fair, when he's home with his family, he is fully and completely home with us.<br />
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Josh has learned to extend me some grace in the "make sure she knows you're still into her when she's covered in spit-up and rocking the mommy pooch" department. About a year and a half ago, after a pretty significant confidence blow from outside sources, Josh scattered sticky notes all over our house for the span of a month citing specific things that he loves about me. I can guarantee you he set an alarm on his phone to remind him to do it, but I don't care. He made the effort, and that is blissfully romantic.<br />
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Please also notice that the last thing I can remember him doing was a year and a half ago. Please also hear me say that I got pouty about him not calling me during the day - like, two days ago. This is life, y'all. Marriage is work, true, but also it's grace and staying whether you're getting the good end of the deal or not.<br />
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Come back next week for the engagement and wedding - and how even among all that brokenness, God was still helping us make space for one another through it all.<br />
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Want to read the whole story? Click <a href="https://emilypblackwell.blogspot.com/search/label/tdadtamarriage" target="_blank">here</a>.Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-70501805395661401472017-06-26T15:18:00.000-06:002017-06-26T15:25:54.578-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: The Final ReunionThree to six months passed. It's all a little fuzzy because we fizzled more than we split. Josh dated around and scratched whatever wild itch HE had. I dated - I don't really know if you can call it that. I spent time with other guys. One of them was smart, kind, and quietly funny - not that different than Josh when I think about it - except that he wasn't Josh. The other was a bit of a wild card. He liked a lot of the same things as me, was enormously flattering, and called me up for late night drives to the truck stop with him and his buddy for coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches and bacon. (Oh, college life.) I liked that he was unpredictable, but in the end, it just never clicked - and I never was sure that he really liked me or the thrill of the chase.<br />
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I can't tell you a lot about the girls Josh dated because I really didn't want to know them. From what I know of them as adults, though, they were and are perfectly nice women. I'm not sure that he was much different than mister thrill-of-the-chase at that time in his life.<br />
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All of that to say, we went on as separately as we could on a campus of 1500 students. You pretty much run into everyone attending classes there at least once every other day - which is one of the things I loved most about it, but it doesn't make for easy break-ups. My daily routine almost always consisted of a trip to the Student Center. I had Chick-fil-a every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, and checking my mail on the way to one of my classes (usually in the same building on the same route because I was an English major and lived pretty much in the same few classrooms - the glory of small colleges for girls who dig routine). I opened my mailbox to find a single letter with Josh's handwriting on the envelope. Heart racing, I ripped it open to find a three page, single-spaced, typed letter.<br />
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Because I had class, I put it in my sweet action American Eagle messenger bag and sat through a very long lecture that I heard none of because that letter was thumping loudly inside of my bag. I ripped it out as soon as I exited the building, reading it while I walked my familiar path through the quad, in front of Berry Chapel, Cone Bottoms, and then across the street to my dorm. In it, Josh said all the good things. He said he'd been watching me (in a very non-creepy way), that he liked who he saw me becoming, and that he wanted me back. While the letter <i>was</i> extraordinarily romantic, it wasn't meant to be gushy or over the top. It was honest and pure and kind and...he wanted to meet and talk.<br />
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I'm sorry, what? Here I was praying for him to find the love of his life - who was not me - and now the most romantic love letter of all time lands in my mailbox?! Can I tell you what I did? I very nearly sprinted back to my dorm room, curled up criss-cross-applesauce on my lower bunk cave, and highlighted the sections I needed clarification on and jotted little notes in the margin. Over and over again I read it. Then I blacked out the portions that bared Josh's soul in ways that no one but me should ever be allowed to read, and I showed it to my best friends. <i>What should I do?</i> The unanimous answer was, "Be careful." This was because they saw that Josh and Emily could be great, yes, but they could also be toxic.<br />
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Man, oh man, how true that still is today. We still get in cycles that send us reeling round and round - me dripping with words and explosions because I am desperate for him to connect and show me that he's still into me, him wearied from all the neediness and all the words and therefore retreating further into silence. As we have grown, we have learned to be better about giving one another what we need. I try to grant him his silence without demanding explanations. Try...I try. He tries to tell me that he really does like me and why, what he's thinking and feeling and why. Try...he tries. And when it's good - it's glorious because not only are we getting what we need, sharpening one another and pushing one another toward Jesus, but we are also so blissfully different that our chemistry is explosive.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All you need to know about this picture is that I was wearing a shirt with iron-on letters that read on the front - "All I want for Christmas is..." and on the back, "Josh." This is true life. All the chemistry, y'all. All of it.</td></tr>
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Ultimately, I called him and said it would be okay for us to meet. He offered to pick me up that evening to go for a drive. At our private, conservative, Christian college, there were a limited selection of places to be alone. We, of course, knew every one of them. We found ourselves at the upper dam where I literally peeled myself against the passenger side door, unfolded my letter, and began asking questions. Josh's presence had always been intoxicating to me. I knew that if he kissed me or even held my hand, that would be it. I would lay out a big fat, "Yes," to whatever he asked, and I was not willing to surrender my fresh and growing relationship with God for a make-out session in the 'Stang. To his credit, I don't think he would have made any advances toward any such thing that night, but I was intensely aware of my own weakness and therefore taking the appropriate precautions.<br />
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He listened with humility and responded with grace as I told him, "I'm not saying we can't get back together, but you're going to have to pursue me, and I don't want you to pursue me unless you are sure this is what you want forever. I'm not interested in breaking up again."<br />
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He said something along the lines of, "Fair enough," and then dropped me off at Flippen-Perrin Hall so that I could go in and digest every word with my girls. Over Mint Oreos, Root Beers, and Ruffles with Ranch Dip, I'm sure I talked until they could not bear to listen to my words anymore. Christen was probably doing homework while Vanessa, Katy, and I sat on the couch and giving "Oooo's," and "Ahhhh's," and "Nooo's," at all the right moments.<br />
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Pursue me, he did. He started sending me cards in the mail ever week (one of my very favorite things EVER). He'd get one of the girls behind the counter to leave me a bottled IBC root beer in my mailbox. He smuggled roses into my room with the help of my friends. He took me to Little Rock to see <i>Cats</i>. He took me to see <i>How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days</i>, and then <i>Chicago</i>. He dropped by to say, "Hello," and called often and generally just made it clear that he was really into me.<br />
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All the while, we still didn't kiss. It was such a sweet time for us because for nearly four years of our dating life, we had struggled enormously against our human desire to have the sex. I don't want to get too detailed or awkward with this, but anyone who has ever been in a relationship in which you are smitten with the other will know what this is like. An enormous, God-given magnetism is literally flinging you toward one another but because we live in a world where success is often valued over purity, and we literally felt like marriage at an early age wasn't an option, we struggled all of the time. More about this next week because I have a lot of things to say about it and the damage this ongoing sin-struggle caused us during our early years of marriage, but for now just know that the sweetness of just being together for that first little bit was a grand gift.<br />
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And so was that first kiss, when it did happen. He asked if he could kiss me, I remember. And for two people who had been so enormously comfortable with one another for such a long time, there was a touch of awkwardness that made it all feel new all over again. We never really said that we were Josh and Emily again. We just - were.<br />
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See you next week for those last two years pre-marriage, which included a trip to Spain for me, a trip to Peru for Josh, and a middle-of-nowhere wedding chapel between Arkadelphia and Hot Springs.<br />
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<br />Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-45754941786289830692017-06-19T20:22:00.000-06:002017-06-19T20:42:28.236-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: All the Break-UpsIf it isn't already clear by the rolled bangs and baby face, Josh and I were, by almost every definition of the term, "late bloomers." We were church kids. Fly under the radar kids. Do the right thing kids. It's just who we were and how the chips landed for us. Or rather, it's how God laid the chips out for us. Let it be said, though, that I've always had a bit of a rebellious - streak feels like too strong of a word - itch. I've always had a rebellious itch and, quite frankly, it had never been scratched upon meeting Josh. Let's be real - it's never really been scratched.<br />
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All that to say, there came a day in high school when I began to feel restless in Josh's and my relationship. It wasn't that I ever stopped liking him or enjoying his company or thinking he was all around a really great guy. It was simply that I grew bored with being "Josh and Emily." I had never dated anyone else, really, and I liked boys. I thought there was something appealing about a great deal of them. In some ways, it is for this very reason that I feel grateful for a magnet-like attraction to Josh - who doesn't have a rebellious bone in his body...well maybe a tiny little toe bone or something. In this way, I think God protected me from being a boozer and a floozy. I'm just being honest.<br />
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Regardless, I broke up with Josh several times in high school. I don't really remember a lot about those because they were short-lived and happened mostly just because we were getting on each others' nerves. Not long after we married, I got so frustrated with him I (sort of) jokingly said, "If we weren't married, I would so break up with you right now!" Over the span of about a year, I was all, "Josh is cute but so is that other guy over there. La, tee, dah!" I broke his heart into pieces because I wasn't as invested as he was at the time.<br />
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Like a stay at home mom and her yoga pants, though, I couldn't stay away from the comfort and perfect fit of Josh. Getting back together, after all, was the MOST fun!<br />
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By the end of our senior year, though, I was all in. I was wild about him - probably too much so. He had become my entire world, and we were both planning to go to LA Tech. Obviously we were going to get married. Obviously. He would join me while I babysat for our youth pastor's kids. I would imagine all sorts of scenarios that involved him as the father of my children. I kid you not. I so wanted Josh to be my baby-daddy beginning at the age of 17. He, however, was oblivious that I had such plans. He just liked hanging with me and the Fiscus kids.<br />
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Sometime during the late fall of our senior year in high school, it became clear to me that I really wanted and needed to be at Ouachita Baptist University. It is one of the only decisions I remember making separate from Josh. I knew what making that choice meant - that he would go to a different college and our relationship would get very tricky. Still, I felt a very clear pull to attend OBU. So, one night on the phone I was gearing up to break the news when Josh said, "So, I've been talking to mom and praying about it, and I think I need to go to OBU." I could've died. DIED. Well, it was all set. We would date through college, get married, and live happily every after. Hooray!<br />
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Sugar lumpkin.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoo1QMVMT1fe2j5HsjiOH7z8juhQfzLhvEEFAqoNLBJk8PJHhyywq9z9sl1CzSFDncY6HyUbi8WWv-UiPQbcxv1IBqzOA0Up8gK0QviCXYbO2ZtiZARCt8V0lL95yvObkfQE5fGwJvZ-2K/s1600/IMG_4674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoo1QMVMT1fe2j5HsjiOH7z8juhQfzLhvEEFAqoNLBJk8PJHhyywq9z9sl1CzSFDncY6HyUbi8WWv-UiPQbcxv1IBqzOA0Up8gK0QviCXYbO2ZtiZARCt8V0lL95yvObkfQE5fGwJvZ-2K/s640/IMG_4674.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophomore year. In the era of boy bands, Josh very clearly was on his A-game. Ammiright?</td></tr>
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Remember that bit about being late bloomers? Well, Josh got to college and BLOOMED. Suddenly, he was no longer awkward-but-pretty-cute-in-a-goofy-way Josh. He was becoming sort of beefy and very dreamy. He was carrying himself differently, and he had friends apart from me. There were girls - so many girls - that begged for his attention without any effort of his own. He very clearly did not need me, while I felt that I very much needed him. It ultimately culminated in a nasty break-up in which I asked him if he loved me, and he said he didn't know. I was devastated. My sister, Molly, and my dad both offered to kick his butt. It's what we do for each other in times of devastation - we offer to wail on the offending party without actually intending to do so. Well, except Molly. She really would do it.<br />
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Regardless, we were broken up for about six months. We dated other people. Watching him with other girls is, to this day, one of the most painful things I've ever experienced emotionally. But, as God always does, He used that time of brokenness in me to breed something new - a vibrant, honest, growing relationship with Him. Suddenly, I found myself desperate to know Jesus more, and willing to let go of Josh if that's what He wanted for me. I reached a point when I was able to pray that Josh would find someone better for him than me, and that's when I knew - this beautiful business of knowing Jesus beyond what I could offer Him, and beyond what He would give me, was something I wanted more than I wanted Josh, and that felt enormously freeing and empowering.<br />
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Really, that's what everything comes down to in every piece of our relationship today. Do I want to know my God and make Him known more than I want anything else? More than I want an easy marriage? More than I want my own way, dad-gummit? Really, really more than anything? Because if that is true, marriage is still crazy hard, but staying in it isn't a hard choice. Staying in it is the only choice.<br />
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I'm so glad for those 6 months of heart-breaking loneliness - when I almost transferred schools but didn't. When I built incredible friendships and scratched just a teensy bit of that wild itch and laughed hard and sang loud to songs about my Jesus, all without Josh. He would always matter very much to me, but God gave me a grand gift when He forced me to discover Emily apart from Josh. I would need those glimpses for later on down the road.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIUEqXiwGTbnaBIwwsRKvhnvmsfUu98okdW5Tp9GrCjpZ1wwFkY9GivlT2QrhhLrYVTM6Bi10aAHon5vtZMVf5wdfzYu9IaSN0l9j813k3omL7bQT6gmoeDkbfPFKpDletJSTJ6moEjf7/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIUEqXiwGTbnaBIwwsRKvhnvmsfUu98okdW5Tp9GrCjpZ1wwFkY9GivlT2QrhhLrYVTM6Bi10aAHon5vtZMVf5wdfzYu9IaSN0l9j813k3omL7bQT6gmoeDkbfPFKpDletJSTJ6moEjf7/s640/IMG_4671.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophomore year with some of my dearest forever friends - Vanessa, Christen, and Katy. We built a friendship that looked and felt more like a sisterhood that remains to this day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember that wild itch? This is about as crazy as I got...playing in the Ouachita fountain with Sarah and Katie. Bless it. I don't even care. We laughed until we cried that night!</td></tr>
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Now, lest you think that I was - or am - the poor wronged party, we BOTH dated other people and had fun doing it. And next week you'll get to see Josh in all of his romantic glory! He really is a champ at grand gestures. The way he won me back will impress you...promise!<br />
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Can you see the way God has woven threads of HIS faithfulness through your marriage story?<br />
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New to this saga but want to read all of it? I'm so glad. You can find the rest of it <a href="http://emilypblackwell.blogspot.com/search/label/tdadtamarriage" target="_blank">here</a>!Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-60812159712638155392017-06-17T13:21:00.001-06:002017-06-17T13:21:09.353-06:00Book Review: Real Artists Don't Starve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's Book Review day!<br />
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I have read each of <a href="https://goinswriter.com/" target="_blank">Jeff Goins'</a> books. I started with <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/You-Writer-Start-Acting-Like/dp/0990378500/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1497623027&sr=8-4&keywords=jeff+goins" target="_blank">You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One)</a>. </i>It came as a recommendation from my friend, <a href="http://staceythacker.com/" target="_blank">Stacey Thacker</a>, at a time when I was just beginning to explore writing with intention instead of just as a sort of online journaling practice. At that time, I had one two year old, and that is all. How different life was then! If only I had capitalized on all the time I didn't think I had! Regardless, Jeff's words gave me a good, forceful kick in the pants. I began to play with what it would feel like to actually CALL myself a writer.<br />
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Every book of his after that has inched me forward in my knowledge and calling of being a creative and, specifically, a writer. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wrecked-Broken-World-Slams-Comfortable/dp/0802404928/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1497725563&sr=8-1&keywords=wrecked+jeff+goins" target="_blank">Wrecked</a> </i>helped me process passions and "discovering yourself" while still developing responsibility. It helped me think about a sense of calling and the things that I am inexplicably impassioned to do. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Art-Work-Proven-Discovering-Meant/dp/0718022076/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1497725590&sr=1-1&keywords=the+art+of+work+jeff+goins" target="_blank">The Art of Work</a></i> helped me think about my life as a whole - and how every piece of it - even, maybe especially, the stretches that feel like stumbling around - are contributing to my calling and place in this world.<br />
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When I discovered the title of his newest book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Real-Artists-Dont-Starve-Strategies/dp/0718086260/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1497725668&sr=1-1&keywords=real+artists+don%27t+starve+jeff+goins" target="_blank">Real Artists Don't Starve</a></i>, I immediately placed my pre-order. We are at a place when I really need to contribute to the family income but I also still need a flexible schedule that allows me to be available to my kids. Additionally, I want a job that I don't hate. I'm doing a few odds and ends things, but I really want to be able to create for a living. So, if Jeff had a plan for helping me do that, I was game.<br />
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<i>The point is not to make a fortune or become famous, but to do the work. We are all looking for a way to share our gift with the world without worrying about making a living. That means getting paid more than once for our creations. It means building a life that allows us to keep creating. - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Real-Artists-Dont-Starve-Strategies/dp/0718086260/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1497725668&sr=1-1&keywords=real+artists+don%27t+starve+jeff+goins" target="_blank">Jeff Goins, Real Artists Don't Starve</a></i></blockquote>
The reason I love Jeff's writing style is that he manages to motivate without sounding like a motivational speaker. I don't have anything against motivational speakers, but they really aren't my jam. Jeff manages to weave compelling stories with helpful advice, creating a very easy read that makes you honest-to-goodness want to get moving...and have a reasonable idea of how to take the first step. This, as a writer, I know to be a rare gift set!<br />
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In this particular book, Jeff takes us on a journey through the centuries, uncovering the stories of ancient, successful artists from all sorts of fields as well as "average Joe" creatives who have managed to make art and not starve in today's "New Renaissance." It's enormously interesting and inspiring - as well as unexpectedly practical.<br />
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If you have ever wanted to be a creator in any form or fashion - or suspect that you just might be a creative deep down inside - go get this book. It's a fun, inspiring, and most importantly, thrillingly practical. You will fly through it and then want to get started making art and not starving!Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-60011884105392323542017-06-12T06:18:00.000-06:002017-06-12T06:18:33.606-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: My Best Friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The interesting thing about our relationship is that after that first "he picked the other girl" hooplah, I only remember Josh as part of my life. I don't remember a lot about how our relationship progressed. We were sixteen - still so, so young, still learning so, so many things. Sometimes I wonder if our attending different schools in those early days is what wove us together so tightly. We never grew weary of each other because we weren't together all day. We wrote one another notes at least every day, which we would deliver at church on Wednesday nights.We talked on the phone nearly every night. It was simple and pure, really - we just dove head long in knowing each other - not because we knew to intentionally do that in a budding relationship - but because we liked talking to each other. I was a big Josh fan, and he was a big Emily fan. <span style="font-size: large;">This, I think, is the beauty of high school sweethearts. We grew up together and learned one another as we went. </span>We didn't try to analyze where the relationship was going or what the future held. We liked each other, and that's all there was to it.<br />
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A few weeks after we began officially dating, we took a weekend trip out to Toledo Bend to stay at our friend, Leigh's, lake house. It was an annual thing, and it was the most fun. The girls slept upstairs in the loft area while the boys slept downstairs on the living room floor. Yes, we all actually slept in our assigned spots. We spent our days walking the beach, throwing the frisbee, playing board games, laughing until we cried, eating all the food, and napping as much as we wanted. We spent our evenings eating more and sitting around a campfire. <span style="font-size: large;">We talked and laughed and laid a lifetime foundation, without even realizing what we were doing, for what friendship should look like. </span><br />
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On this particular trip, while the boys were sitting around the campfire and the girls were snacking in the kitchen (let it be said that teenage girls eat every bit as much as boys!), Josh and I stole away to the dock. I'd been waiting as patiently as possible for that first kiss. Have I mentioned that I was really into Josh? And also that I really liked boys in general? And, for the love of the land, I really wanted this particular boy to lay one on me?<br />
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<i>This was a foreshadowing, just like everything else, of the way I run ahead like a crazed maniac shouting wildly, "Hurry up! Let's get on with it already! Patience is for the birds!" To this day, I leap without looking and lay dead down on the rocks below while Josh is still analyzing the path behind me, taking his time, cautiously observing each step. <span style="font-size: large;">We are in a constant pull against one another, and while this can be infuriating for both of us, it also saves us both from either never experiencing anything or...lying dead on the rocks. </span></i><br />
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We stood on the dock, looking out over Toledo Bend, the moon blanketing us in vague, shimmering light and the cool Louisiana fall air casting a vague dampness over our skin and hair, making us shiver and shove our hands in our pockets. (Yes, it is exactly that romantic in my sixteen-year-old memories...whether it was ACTUALLY that romantic is pretty much irrelevant.) We talked and talked - standing looking out over the water, sitting criss cross applesauce on the ground, lying side by side on our backs - <i>good grief alive will this boy ever kiss me?</i> - and then silence. He reached over, turned my head toward his, and kissed me...short, simple, sweet. All the butterflies, y'all. All of 'em flying all over the place. I could've stayed there all night until, approximately 2 seconds after we kissed, Josh, "Okay! You ready to go back?" That was that. Homeboy had done what he set out to do. He walked back to the fire to tout his victory to his friends so that they could acknowledge it shortly and move on to more important topics like sports stats or the latest guitar chord they'd learned. I, however, walked inside to be greeted by gushing and cheering all around!<br />
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From that night on, Josh and Emily just kept being Josh and Emily - but with kissing. In the spring of that school year, I came down with what we affectionately refer to as, "the mono". The case was so serious that I found myself in the hospital for a night and out of school for nearly a semester. I'm not kidding. I would get so tired that I would fall asleep at 8 o'clock at night, sleep through the night, and not wake up until 10 the next morning. It was during this fiasco that Josh became more than just a boy that I really liked and really, really liked kissing. He would come to my house as often as my parents would allow (<i>What do you MEAN he can't come over EVERY night? Can't you see that we're in LOVE?!...bless my heart)</i> and sit with me. I would throw a pillow over on him and sleep on his lap while he watched TV. This often meant that he missed out on spending time with our other friends, and I began to see how self-sacrificing he was - how tender-hearted and compassionate he was, how much he really cared about me.<br />
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Those few months of focused, isolated together-ness might've seemed unhealthy to some - I'm pretty sure to my parents without a doubt - and I imagine in some ways they were, but they also transformed Josh into my very best friend and, I think, me into his. <span style="font-size: large;">We were able to be ourselves with one another - to let our freak flags fly high - without fear of rejection or judgement.</span> We laughed hard and often. We watched movies and ate dinners and (I'm slightly embarrassed to admit) fell asleep on the phone with one another.<br />
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This is the most important thing, when I start to wonder if we are really good for each other, I can remember. Our relationship was always about far more than sexual chemistry, although that would become a significant, and quite frankly, crippling issue, later in our relationship. Once, early in our marriage when I found myself sorely disappointed with what the holy grail of "I do," had handed me, a dear friend and mentor of mine listened to my long list of grievances and said, "Okay, well what DO you like about Josh?" And without having to think too long or hard about the answer I shrugged and said, "He's my very best friend." She didn't need to say much after that because <span style="font-size: large;">to be bound to the man who has been your best friend since you were sixteen - a man who loves God and cares about you - it seems like maybe that really IS the holy grail of "I do."</span><br />
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So today, go ahead and do it: mentally list your grievances with your spouse. We all have them...and if you've been in it for long, grievances may not be a strong enough word. Then, after you've listed all that out, stop and consider what you DO like about your spouse. <span style="font-size: large;">If you're going to take the time to list the rotten, it's only fair to take inventory of the redeeming, too. </span><br />
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Next week come back for the break-ups. All the break-ups, y'all! And coming up on Thursday is another book review. Get you some sun and some rest and some happy this week!Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-59336027784070265562017-06-09T15:18:00.001-06:002017-06-09T15:24:07.980-06:00Book Review: Where'd You Go Bernadette<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq4D7sdUMTFenIbdIb3AMMW9M058mj41nzU2pNp7N6N4Ued8dPTmSKZrTS9OyhS4KnB3wtIv4N4Wgw5VdPXmF4xHAe3mlrEYi6Va9RPfPNh74GfsxZ1kcbPLDPCBOu1WBcYGKu_De72H8/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq4D7sdUMTFenIbdIb3AMMW9M058mj41nzU2pNp7N6N4Ued8dPTmSKZrTS9OyhS4KnB3wtIv4N4Wgw5VdPXmF4xHAe3mlrEYi6Va9RPfPNh74GfsxZ1kcbPLDPCBOu1WBcYGKu_De72H8/s640/IMG_4529.JPG" width="640" /></a>I promised you a book review this week, and a book review you shall have!<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Whered-You-Go-Bernadette-Novel/dp/0316204269" target="_blank">Where'd You Go, Bernadette?</a> made its way to my "To Read" list more than a year ago. I had heard it recommended a few times but the clencher was on <a href="http://jamieivey.com/happy-hour-96-jen-hatmaker-rachel-hollis" target="_blank">The Happy Hour with Jaime Ivey podcast</a>. She was doing an interview with <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jenhatmaker/" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker</a> who, without hesitation, recommended this as one of her favorite books at the time. She makes me laugh so if she finds a thing entertaining, I take it seriously.<br />
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The book, particularly the first half, is primarily written in the form letters between A LOT of different people. So, it takes a little getting used to at first. I kept thinking, "Wait, who is this person again?" But Semple does a good job of keeping things interesting without overwhelming you with characters. There is an air of mystery in the plot, but nothing terribly gripping to tell you the truth. I mean you really want to know where Bernadette went, but don't go into it expecting some sort of nail-biter.<br />
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The truth is, I love a good character. I care far less about plot lines and climaxes. Give me a character I can love and relate to and believe, and I am putty in your hands. I'll read until you stop giving me words. Bernadette is a fantastic character. She's just the right amount of crazy - the amount that you are pretty sure you have within yourself, and her daughter, Bee, whose voice is the primary one in the story, is this sort of perfectly adorable, pure, and appropriately snarky fourteen year old who takes life as it comes until her mother goes missing.<br />
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It is a story about finding yourself again but doing so without abandoning what's already there. I think you'll enjoy it so very much. You can borrow my copy if you want!<br />
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<i>Don't forget to come back on Monday for The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage. The first kiss is on the agenda for Monday, and you will, without a doubt, enjoy that one thoroughly! See you then!</i>Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-19261034292288025902017-06-04T19:54:00.000-06:002017-06-04T19:57:54.941-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: Celebrate the Beginning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I went to high school in the late nineties. My dad has
always worked in technology and computers, and at that time he owned his own
company. So, we had a lot of computers at our disposal. When I was a sophomore
in high school, my parents allowed me to have one in my room. Honestly, there
wasn’t much to get into at that point in time. Once, I entered a chat room with
other teens – I am laughing out loud writing about this – just after the
Columbine shootings. (I’m not at all laughing about the Columbine shootings.) A
boy – I guess he was a boy. Who really knows? – asked me where I lived and went
to school. I panicked, clicked out of the chat room immediately, and sprinted
to my parents bedroom, where the door was locked, which could only mean one
thing – they were otherwise engaged and I was going to have to deal with scary
chat room boy all on my own. I tell you this to give you an accurate picture of
how very unadventurous I was and how very reasonable it was for my parents to
allow me to have a computer in my room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Except for AIM.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ah, the glorious sound of that, “Bling.” A chat coming in,
popping up on the screen from barcenaux82, suz81, or jblack83 – oh how
thrilling. I would leap from my floral printed, Laura Ashley sheets into my
desk chair with glee and anticipation. It was just a foreshadowing of what was
to come. I chatted with people on AIM that I never would have initiated
conversation with in person. Technology was already closing the accessibility
gap, and also, it allowed me to carefully craft my flirty words before I
delivered them. My cool factor could not be contained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess it was about August of our junior year in high
school when Josh and I began chatting regularly. What I know about Josh now is
that he’s a friendly guy who doesn’t think much about things before he does
them. He likely just saw me online and figured he’d give me a shout. We had one
fun conversation in which I laughed at his goofy humor (so many LOLs) and he
caught my sarcasm, and that led to another and another. I started thinking that
I might really like this guy. Like, really, but I felt silly about it because
he was Josh – goofy, not cool, Josh. But every time we talked, I found that he
didn’t make me feel the way other boys made me feel – awkward, unsure, and not
enough. When we talked, I felt at ease, free to be myself, and like I was
talking to a friend – because I was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIeCDwOIjjYk1iRYlfGgUQtYfVDz-UPzbfJUO62AFBlY49gDFKbjHUCoLODvAJQeQeiFvhWMGmkZuGqU3JN90_cFftU0AaQJdRNIrG9Bl3UDDn7mZkDEp-pTxN03qBo7y29Ejzj29kM3v/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIeCDwOIjjYk1iRYlfGgUQtYfVDz-UPzbfJUO62AFBlY49gDFKbjHUCoLODvAJQeQeiFvhWMGmkZuGqU3JN90_cFftU0AaQJdRNIrG9Bl3UDDn7mZkDEp-pTxN03qBo7y29Ejzj29kM3v/s640/FullSizeRender+%25286%2529.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>The first dance - pre-"Josh and Emily". Bless our lumpkin hearts.</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was a back-to-school dance every year in early
September. Josh asked me, and I gleefully said, “Yes.” We were on the fast
track to our first real date. I just knew it. I mean, we HELD HANDS on the
couch in James’ pool house. What further evidence did anyone need of our
forever love?</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let’s remember that part about Josh not considering things
much before he did/does them. One night after the dance I was sitting at my desk, possibly
playing solitaire or something else gripping on the computer, when a “Bling”
came through. I leapt into action upon seeing that it was from Josh. Before we
got far into our conversation, he had conveyed that he had a new girlfriend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m sorry, what?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s the truth. Some other girl had asked him to go out, and
he’d said, “Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who the aych was this chick? I had never even heard him
mention her. She didn’t go to church with us. She was not our friend. She had
no place in his life. He was very clearly already mine, thought a very
disappointed me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I need to stop here to tell you that so much about our first
miscommunication points to a great many of the issues we have had about once a
week since.</span> Josh had his own life, his own world apart from me. He was
president of the FCA at PHS. He played tennis and ran cross-country and dated
other girls, apparently, all of which had not a thing to do with me and my
life. Every piece of my life, however, was connected to him. For one, I’m a
female, which means I thought and talked about boys far more than they ever
thought or talked about me. It’s a sad day when you realize the magnitude of
this truth. For another, most of my friends were directly connected to Josh. He
consumed my thoughts and my feelings and my conversations while I only affected
his while we were together – and sometimes not even then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is still the case. <span style="font-size: large;">If I had learned not to take offense
to it, to tell him directly what I wanted and needed sooner, if I was better at
it now, gosh the things we could have avoided.</span> Sigh. Tomorrow is another day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wounded, I avoided him for a week or so, but he kept “Bing-ing”
me (that sounds mildly dirty and I’m getting tickled at it). He started coming
to my swim meets in the afternoons. I knew – I just KNEW – he wouldn’t do that
if he didn’t have feelings for me. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Regardless,
he still had some girlfriend, which I apparently only acknowledged as partial
reality. When I want something, the whole world better move outta the way
because I am going after it. (<span style="font-size: large;">Josh would probably tell you that if he’d learned
THAT early on, we could’ve avoided a great many additional fights…like the one
we had two nights ago.</span>) What I wanted, friends, was Joshua Wesley Blackwell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Within a month or so, "other girl" – who as it turns out was
perfectly nice – was out of the picture and, through a great deal of finagling
by my friend Susan, our first date was on the calendar. Funnily enough, my
parents were out of town for this transaction. I haven’t a clue where, but I
was the only person in my house that night – have I mentioned how very NOT wild
I was? My friend, Kate helped me pick out my outfit: pinstripe pants and a
white button up with some sort of very chunky heels. Oh that sweet, lumpkin, late nineties fashion. He took me to <i>Logan’s</i> where we ordered salads and my
stomach hurt so bad I thought I was going to have to spend some time in the
bathroom because of my nerves. We went to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Sixth Sense</i>, and held hands THE WHOLE TIME (surely this was a
done deal). He brought me home and that was it. By mid-November, we were
officially “Josh and Emily.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are other stories from that first year, of course –
the first kiss, all the break-ups, the mono, how he literally became my very
best friend in a way no one ever had before. We’ll save those for next time
because they matter in our story – and they’re pretty funny, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">How’d you end up with your person? Do you remember the
subtle nuances of your start? <span style="font-size: large;">I, for one, find myself getting all the feels
about a man who is, quite frankly, still a very, very good one, despite all our
differences – simply because I’m taking time to remember.</span> So, tell us. How’d it
all start for you? Tell us on the social media platform of your choosing (I'm an Instagram junkie, myself) and use the hashtag #tdadtamarriage (The Down and Dirty Truth
about Marriage) so we can all follow along...and also pictures. Pretty please with the pictures! <span style="font-size: large;">Let’s celebrate the beginning so we
can gain some perspective on the right now.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Come back next Monday for the continuing saga. Same time, same place. Love y'all like crazy!</span></div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-67269746628854704022017-06-01T07:50:00.002-06:002017-06-01T07:52:16.252-06:00Book Review: The Road Back to You<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxiyvdICRuHHGuYTILthuIkWv0xMBFl3h0a-sN6fxrXcBogwXbRypXz11Apy97zQ88Cy5cfEff2V5Xnwv-5ZrWNt876LNwWG01o5gi8msanZQ-3rssIc1Wvsei52U9RDK4tAQBOVOzW80/s1600/IMG_4446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxiyvdICRuHHGuYTILthuIkWv0xMBFl3h0a-sN6fxrXcBogwXbRypXz11Apy97zQ88Cy5cfEff2V5Xnwv-5ZrWNt876LNwWG01o5gi8msanZQ-3rssIc1Wvsei52U9RDK4tAQBOVOzW80/s640/IMG_4446.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Road-Back-You-Enneagram-Self-Discovery/dp/0830846190/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1496322377&sr=1-1&keywords=the+road+back+to+you" target="_blank"><i>The Road Back to You: An Enneagram Journey to Self-Discovery</i> by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />I feel like I need to begin by saying that I find self-discovery fascinating. To understand myself better is like an exciting treasure hunt that leads me around bends and into, admittedly, some dark, frightening spots. I emerge, though, in the end with the prize of awareness, better coping mechanisms, and a clearer understanding of my strengths and weaknesses. Through the years, these have granted me the freedom to be who I am, not who I think I am supposed to be. Additionally, I prize understanding people - where they are coming from, what makes them tick, and why they behave like they do. It's the first thing I set about doing when I move to a new place. It helps me feel connected when I understand people.<br />
<br />
This is because I am a two on the Enneagram (The Helper). For those of you who have read the book, that means I'm the most relationally driven number on the nine point circle. This is the quote that began my chapter:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I want you to be happy, but I want to be the reason. - Unknown</i></blockquote>
If you aren't looking to feel very uncomfortable in your own skin for a chapter; if conviction and facing your most hidden (to you) sin tendencies is not what you want to do, then don't read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Road-Back-You-Enneagram-Self-Discovery/dp/0830846190/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1496322377&sr=1-1&keywords=the+road+back+to+you" target="_blank">this book</a>. If, however, you want to wade into the waters of being made more whole and more holy, while also, surprisingly, finding yourself entertained, go get this book and read it ASAP. It's easy and fun to plow through aside from the chapter that pegs you. That chapter IS prickly but also freeing. For example:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>At their best, Twos are warm and generous, and at their worst they're resentful martyrs. </i></blockquote>
Ouch. Alternatively, I discovered I'm a Two with a Three wing:<br />
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<i>Twos with a Three wing (2w3) are more ambitious, image-conscious and competitive. Extroverted and sometimes seductive like the Three (the Performer), they are more concerned about relationships and connections than Twos with a One wing. These Twos are more confident, so they achieve more; being seen as successful is a close second to being known as loving and generous. In this space Twos with a strong self-image can shape-shift like Threes to become whatever is called for to achieve the desired result.</i></blockquote>
After a thorough and easy to read chapter on what the Enneagram is and how to read it, Cron dives into each number. He provides a list of self statements that identify the number at hand, a story or two about real life Numbers played out, the Number's biggest sin tendency, what the Number looks like in relationships, at work, and as children, and what the Number looks like with wings (or Numbers around it whose traits it takes on) then he provides positive steps toward spiritual transformation for the Number.<br />
<br />
In the end, it's helping me dig deep in my own life to identify where I've gone wrong over and again, and how I can avoid those same pitfalls again and again. It's also helped me hone in on how God has wired me individually, in positive ways. In the end, though, I feel most excited to employ this new knowledge in relation to Josh, my kids, and the people I'm in close relationship with.<br />
<br />
I'll leave you with this quote from the final chapter that sums up the heart behind the whole book:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them. - Thomas Merton</i></blockquote>
I love, loved this one. I honestly believe it is beneficial to anyone who is looking for ways to improve as a human being, friend, and/or follower of Christ. Add it to your list!<br />
<br />
<i>If you read the book and have trouble identifying your number, <a href="https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-descriptions/" target="_blank">you can take the test here</a> and it will help you narrow it down. I took the test before I read the book and it pegged me EXACTLY!</i><br />
<br />
<br />Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-33162453605212504632017-05-29T11:05:00.000-06:002017-05-29T11:31:18.319-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Marriage: An Introduction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://emilypblackwell.blogspot.com/2017/05/stay.html" target="_blank">Stay</a></i> </span>struck a chord. Your response was unexpected and has pushed me to move forward on a project I've been thinking about for a while. <span style="font-size: large;">Marriage is hard. It's one of the most challenging climbs any of us will make in this life.</span> It's chocked full of surprises, disappointments, challenges, and victories. Mostly it's just chocked full of life, and life has a way of making us forget why we said, "Yes," in the first place. </div>
<br />
Last night, just after dusk, I found myself driving down the streets of our neighborhood for an errand. The houses shadowed beneath vague darkness and the smell of a summer storm rolling in, I could've made the drive blind folded. And I was stirred because those streets and that neighborhood, this neighborhood where we now live with our three kids and a dog, where we find ourselves frustrated and unsure about how to best navigate life together - it's where Josh's and my story unfolded, it's where we fell in love.<br />
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In the Bible, God reveals Himself the most extravagantly through life stories - not necessarily through events and moments that seem enormous at the time, but through a steady stream of faithfulness sprawled out over a lifetime. So, <span style="font-size: small;">I thought maybe I'd give you a peak into our story - how it's probably a lot like yours in some ways. </span><span style="font-size: large;">From our dating days to that torturous first year to adventures and career changes and babies - what we've done well, and what we've done terribly - God has faithfully been writing our story, and He isn't done yet. </span><span style="font-size: small;">I think maybe remembering it all will be good for me. Maybe it will be good for you, too. Maybe, just maybe, it'll help you remember and enjoy the, "Yes," that launched your own crazy, beautiful, hard, holy journey called marriage.</span><br />
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So, here we go:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KCQdDXU2vBpIHTaECuPP_DRydMzfUqDzeNpPxZhhzUxnN5SCxzQljQtlLXjNAGWmowPkuZgurE22PHkwEOkE4mq_J3AQz2DazFtpRHxG0vqokMxFN2OZK1-M86lc2pbnTD8iIJGuHh4H/s1600/dadtamarriage.001.jpeg.001.jpeg.001.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KCQdDXU2vBpIHTaECuPP_DRydMzfUqDzeNpPxZhhzUxnN5SCxzQljQtlLXjNAGWmowPkuZgurE22PHkwEOkE4mq_J3AQz2DazFtpRHxG0vqokMxFN2OZK1-M86lc2pbnTD8iIJGuHh4H/s640/dadtamarriage.001.jpeg.001.jpeg.001.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Josh Blackwell was a boy. He was skinny with blue green eyes
and a quiet smile. He was kind, humble, and a little awkward around girls. He
was unassuming, not yet striking in looks, and a good, loyal friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We met in the hall at the church I grew up in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I knew who his family was. Everyone knew who his family was.
They were the five gorgeous, exotic missionary kids that had just returned from
Brazil, where they’d grown up on the mission field. Not only were they
beautiful people from a foreign land, but also they had just lost their dad in
a tragic car accident. The whole youth group honestly wanted to be their
friends – out of curiosity, compassion, and good old-fashioned crushes. When
they walked in the doors of the sanctuary, we all stopped and stared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">He was standing, funnily enough, with my ex-boyfriend - Joe.
We were fourteen – freshmen in high school – entirely awkward and very
ambitious. I walked over feeling pretty good about my bright red Gap sundress
decorated with giant white poppies, sweet-action rolled bangs, and shimmery
pink lip-gloss. I tried not to think about my braces. I said, “Hi!” with as
little awkwardness as possible since Joe and I were still navigating the waters
of being “exes”. Joe quickly said in his less-than-enthusiastic-but-nice-all-the-same tone, “Hey. This is Josh. Josh, this is Emily. Josh is new here.” I
confidently stuck out my hand, “Nice to meet you! I’m glad you’re here!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">And that was it. Josh quickly settled into our group of
friends at church. We were together every weekend of the school year and nearly
every night of the summer. We were “boyfriend and girlfriend” for a very brief
five or so days during our freshman year. I can’t be sure whether it was
because we were both present and available and attainable to one another or
because we were genuinely into each other. Sometimes, when you’re fourteen, it
really doesn’t matter. That love affair abruptly ended when he told me he loved
me and put his arm around me in church after a week of dating. I ran for the hills.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Still, weekend after weekend, night after night, we were
together in a group setting. I learned his personality without even realizing
it was happening. I thought he was a little nerdy, said, “Yes,” out of pity
when he asked me to the Mid-Winter dance our sophomore year – as though I had
other options banging down my door, and firmly settled him in the "friend zone." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The truth is, there was another boy, still
navigating what it meant to be a man, who flirted skillfully but treated me
terribly. He and I had a relationship not unlike many other high school
relationships, in which he dictated all the terms. So, most of the time we
were off-again, but while I was navigating what it meant to be a grown-up girl
with standards and a will of her own, I hoped desperately that he’d want to be
with me forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I’m so glad that never worked out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>Tune back in next Monday for the next chapter. Love y’all
like crazy!</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-35821461561544027162017-05-25T12:38:00.001-06:002017-05-25T12:40:17.731-06:00What if reading is as important as cardio?Can I tell you the truth? I grow so weary of having my senses flooded with "eat healthier" and "exercise" and "make sure your kids are eating this and this and this but not that or that." It exhausts me. Do you know why it exhausts me? Because physical wellness is not my jam. Please don't misunderstand. I firmly believe that there is great value in staying active and making wise food choices in moderation. Firmly. But consuming a salad feels the exact same to me as eating grass out of my backyard, and I think working out is torture akin to root canals.<br />
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That's the truth.<br />
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Exercising my mind, though - ahh. There is no greater high or release for me. Give me a good book that sends me sailing through oceans I'll never see with my eyes or enlightens my mind with new thoughts and ideas, that breed my own new thoughts and ideas - that sweep me up in wonder of a God who is always more, who is in it all, who is over it all. Yes, give me that and you'll see me ride a high not unlike the one all those crazy-brained runners describe.<br />
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So, I try to respect all the "Eat good food" and "Exercise a lot" shouts and nudges that fly at me from every direction, because if it means to them what reading and learning and experiencing mean<br />
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to me, I have to consider that maybe it's all important to our big, good Father - who allows pieces of His passions to be reflected in all of His creation!<br />
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Why, though? Why is it that important?<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Reading breeds compassion.</span></b> We can enter worlds, cultures, and lifestyles that we would never normally come in contact with or even begin to understand otherwise. This is invaluable for us as human beings and followers of Christ.<br />
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<i>“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view." - Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee</i></blockquote>
<b style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reading breeds self-awareness.</span></b> When we fill our mind with information that better helps us define who we are and what we believe as individuals, we are better able to interact with the world around us - particularly the relationships we find ourselves in. All truth is God's truth and, in my experience, reading is one of the most effective ways to explore truth.<br />
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<i>“The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.” David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest</i></h1>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Reading breeds rest.</span></b> Reading is not unlike exercise. While you are doing it, if it is a thing you do not do regularly or do not particularly love doing, you might hate its guts. Truly - I believe you about that. I do not understand you, but I believe you. However, reading - or even listening to an audio book - forces our minds to slow, to hear/read the language, and to formulate thoughts and images of our own. It forces our brains create images and ideas that were not pre-formulated for us visually, which in time increases our ability to think creatively and engage with the world arounds us. And just like a good workout, it might help you sleep better at night.<br />
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<i>"Reading forces you to be quiet in a world that no longer makes room for that." John Green</i></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Reading breeds reading. </b></span>The most important thing you can do to help your children become life long readers is model reading as a priority in your own life - even if reading isn't your jam like exercise isn't mine. Facebook articles and Internet scanning are the fast foods of reading, y'all. Treat them as a now and then option but not as your main method of feeding your brain and creativity! Let your kids see you reading or hear you listening to an audio book. It matters!<br />
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<i>"A child who reads will be an adult who thinks." Anonymous</i></blockquote>
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That being said, I'm on a quest this summer to do some reading like it's my glorious, make-a-million dollars job. My kids are old enough now that time is not COMPLETELY eaten up with diapers changed and sippy cups refilled and boo boos kissed. There is a little more margin, and I'm filling mine with books - in an alternating Non-Fiction/Fiction pattern. I'll be posting reviews as I finish them - hopefully every Thursday! Stop back by to find out what's great and what's good and what's probably for book-y people only - like the burpees of the workout world.<br />
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And now without further adieu, my summer reading list in chronological order. #englishmajor<br />
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<br />Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-12267984591079747722017-05-23T09:42:00.000-06:002017-05-23T09:42:20.205-06:00Bathroom RevivalIn every house we have lived in, the master bathroom has been decorated with a collection of all the things that didn't get used in the rest of the house. I have never been intentional to make it a space that invites us to relax and enjoy - that invites thought and reflection and beauty. For one, I haven't had a bathtub in quite a few houses, which is a bummer because bath time is my favorite time for thinking, pondering and reflecting.<br />
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So, when I finally got around to repainting our bathroom here, I decided that I was also going to make it fully ours - a master bath that was both practical and inviting. If I'm being real honest, this only matters to me. Josh noticed for about a day that it was pretty and now it's back to just being the place where he gets clean. I don't even care. I'm just so glad it's done!<br />
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I've learned to be a propronent of embracing what you've got. We just don't have the budget right now to tear out that vanity, replace the oh so flattering light of that flourescent baby above the sink, and ripping out the pukey green bathtub. The cabinets still need to be repainted and the light/vent in the bath area still needs to be replaced. And, quiet, frankly - we'd really just like a little bit bigger bathroom. <span style="font-size: large;">Someday, y'all, but there's no sense in missing out on enjoying today while I'm waiting for someday. </span><br />
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Good enough can be good enough!<br />
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<i>Wall Color:</i> Sherwin Williams Sea Salt - this is one of those chameleon colors that looks different in every light. Gray, green, and blue will all appear at different times of the day.<br />
<i>Vanity Area:</i> There were already brushed copper knobs on the cabinets that are fairly new. I didn't see any sense in replacing them. They are good enough for now - and sometimes that just needs to be okay!<br />
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<i>My side of the vanity:</i> Josh and I have taste that is so very opposing, I generally like to create "his" and "hers" spaces, or at least touches, in our bedroom and bathroom. I wanted my side to be practical and pretty. I've always struggled to find a convenient and hidden spot for my make-up and daily self-care items. When I saw this <b>mail organizer at Target</b>, I thought I'd give it a try. It's perfect and cost me about <b>$20</b>! Always look at thing for what they could be, not what someone else decided they should be, and you'll find that sometimes you score big! <span style="font-size: large;">Touches of greenery always make a room look intentional and alive, to me.</span> The little fake <b>succulents came from Target for just about $7</b> a piece. <b>Hooks were on sale at Hobby Lobby for about $8 </b>a piece, and as always, <b>frames were about $9</b> a piece. I'm still deciding on what picture will make me the happiest. I spend a good amount of time in my bathroom in the mornings getting ready. The pictures I stare it have to be carefully chosen!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjH-6Mn4rM8vavS6wOu_6fWsQtnswpPCgiuYWoNBHgwqK8Vl7YJUuLktff8RjcJW_BuNVtOZ5F7jeczkDMBdpBfftQs0Rgjnl6OzXVCkLBNVelq5U9K9-xSOqRpzJN3vw2goSCp2OgMVzQ/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjH-6Mn4rM8vavS6wOu_6fWsQtnswpPCgiuYWoNBHgwqK8Vl7YJUuLktff8RjcJW_BuNVtOZ5F7jeczkDMBdpBfftQs0Rgjnl6OzXVCkLBNVelq5U9K9-xSOqRpzJN3vw2goSCp2OgMVzQ/s640/FullSizeRender+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i>Josh's side of the vanity:</i>I don't know if you can tell, but Josh's hook is actually a hand! It makes me so happy - and it even made him chuckle. <span style="font-size: large;">Adding a little quirk and personality to your home in small details makes it feel more unique and indicative of who your family is.</span> Don't be scurred to get a little cooky with a few items! Mrs. Meyer's soaps make everyone's hands smell spectacular and not soapy all the time, and also, they're branding is brilliant for display.<br />
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<i>Bath area:</i> When I tell you that our bathroom is tiny, I am not exaggerating. TI-NY. I can't even get pictures of entire walls because I can't back up far enough! We have loads of room in the rest of the house, though, so we decided to live with the smallness for a good long while. <b>Towel hooks from Target for $18</b> NOT in the towel hook section. They're actually coat hooks. Again, keep your eyes pealed for things that could work for what you need - no matter how they're labeled! <span style="font-size: large;">Using something untraditional for necessary storage needs can add so much personality to a space.</span> <b>Shower curtain is from Target last season</b>. <b>Wreath from Hobby Lobby for $20 but used my 40% coupon</b> and got it on the cheap. Because the space is so small and pretty dark, I chose light and breezy linens (including the shower curtain) to keep from weighing down the space with patterns and colors. (Here you can get a glimpse of the deeply awful vomit-green bathtub.)<br />
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This is the area just to the left of the toilet. I needed somewhere to store the toilet paper that was easily accessible from the actual toilet. Since there is virtually no floor space, a shelf up high was my best option. Fortunately, I found this <b>shelf on sale at Hobby Lobby for $10</b>, and it coordinates with the wall organizer and the towel hooks. I love that toilet paper becomes part of the decor - it pulls that white across the room! <b>Flowers from Target for $18</b> (my second biggest splurge, funnily enough). Those two prints were ones that I already had - on from my friend Stacey's book launch for <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fresh-Out-Amazing-Unexpected-Invitation/dp/0736967346/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1495553975&sr=8-1&keywords=fresh+out+of+amazing" target="_blank">Fresh Out of Amazing</a></i> - go get a copy today and we can talk about how wonderful it was later - the other I won from the <a href="http://noonday.com/emilyblackwell" target="_blank">Noonday</a> spring launch. It's by <a href="https://lindsayletters.com/" target="_blank">Lindsey Letters</a>. I had not planned to use them in the bathroom, necessarily, but I need two items that were uniform in nature to group under the shelf. This is where I say again - <span style="font-size: large;">use what you got, love what you got!</span><br />
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Lastly, we have the throne. Such a wonderful thing to have right by your head while you're reclining in the bathtub. Because of this issue, I felt like it was really important to aid in ambience and general smell. <b>The tea light holder is from Target for $20</b>, my biggest splurge, and the <b>angel wings candle holder is from Hobby Lobby on clearance for $5</b>. There were a few others that I liked more, but good enough for $5 won out! I opted for simple blinds instead of curtains here because I felt like extra fabric would overdo the space.<br />
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There you have it. Not a remodel - but certainly a bit of a revival. This room now makes me so very happy! I hope this encourages you to tackle one room at a time - even if it's just a tiny one to start out with - to make your house feel like your home that meets your needs and reflects who you are...this, I'm convinced, automatically makes others feel comfortable when they walk into your house! In a great many cases, use what you got, love what you got, will make all the difference. You don't have to spend hundreds of dollars to get a space you love! It just takes a little time and creativity.<br />
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Love y'all like crazy!Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-84238786941512405122017-05-22T06:26:00.000-06:002017-05-22T06:27:03.064-06:00Dahlias and Hailstorms<div>
Sometimes I write about things and tuck them away for a while. Sometimes I need them to just be for me and for God - my own private act of worship. Then, unexpectedly, I will stumble upon them again and find that they warm and encourage my heart. <span style="font-size: large;">Worship is that way - carrying value far into forever whether it's forgotten by our feeble human minds or not.</span> I hope these words shower a little burst of hope over your hearts today.</div>
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Love y'all like crazy.</div>
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<i>The storm rolled in fast. The sky fell dark and the rain started to fall. Adele’s sultry voice filled up my kitchen while I unloaded the dishwasher, my mind full up and empty all at the same time. There was so much to be thinking about that my thought-making machine had all but stopped functioning. Overload. All of it - my heart, my mind, my spirit - too full, too empty. Which is it?
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<i>And suddenly the banging started - at first just one at a time, and then faster and faster until the whole of our house roared with the sound of hail hitting the roof and the sky lights. I watched from my kitchen window as the storm intensified and all of my beautiful flowers, my dahlias that were on the verge of blooming, my hydrangea that has fought hard to come back from multiple unfortunate events, the tomatoes Josh planted - all of them stripped down to the stems by the icy marbles being shot from the sky with machine gun force.
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<i>My oldest, my tender heart, ran into the kitchen to explain that all of our flowers were being ruined. I turned around and said, “I know, honey. It’s a bummer.” Her little face fell, and her little eyes welled up, “But they were doing so good after that last hail storm! Daddy’s tomato plant had so many tomatoes starting to show!” And then she launched into a full on cry.
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<i>To be honest, I really just wanted to join her. I wanted to sit down on the floor and cry over our lovely, hard fought for flowers and tomatoes. Those dahlias that I was so excited to watch bloom now look broken, bare and dead. They look just like my heart feels. But God in his sweetness reminded me - “They’ll be back again next spring. They grow back.” I know it’s true, but it’s so hard to remember that in the moment of loss. <span style="font-size: large;">It’s hard to remember how to feel the loss and hold the hope, to settle in for another year of waiting before those giant purple and red blooms appear, to acknowledge that I might never actually get to see them - the bulbs I planted and tended and waited on - in one fell swoop, the ice took away my opportunity to enjoy them, but not necessarily the opportunity for them to thrive.
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<i>Sometimes we do the work. We pour ourselves heart and soul into a thing. We buy all the way in, and it just doesn’t end up being a thing we get to watch bloom. Sometimes we do the dirty work and then a storm rolls in and sweeps away our opportunity to see the thing thrive - and we ache over that loss. That’s okay, I think, the ache - but only if it’s connected to hope and trust. <span style="font-size: large;">Trust is the thing that allows us to walk away in peace - without ever seeing the bloom. </span></i></div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-52738924033076642932017-05-18T13:39:00.000-06:002017-05-18T13:58:59.588-06:00Monthly Meal Planning - FREEBIE ALERT!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mollypurvis.com/" target="_blank">Photo by Molly Townsend, Queen of Photography</a></td></tr>
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I write a lot about super serious things here - reflective, heart things. And I like that because I want you to know that you're not the only one that deals with the hard stuff while you smile and love and give. However, I also want you to know that there are tools and ways to make the practical side of life easier! I want you to know that I act like an idiot with my kids. That when I'm away from them for a few hours and then return, I'm so glad to see their little faces. I want you to know that while I yearn for all sorts of things that aren't yet mine, that may never be mine, I also feel enormously grateful for all the things I do have. Sometimes I am so full up with joy and gratitude that I feel like I might bust. I want you to know that while I wrestle with defeat and the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed, I have also collected a few tricks that help our family do "us."<br />
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That's the truth.<br />
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A few months ago, I posted on <a href="http://instagram.com/emilypblackwell" target="_blank">Instagram</a> (my favorite social media platform, btw) about monthly meal planning and grocery shopping and a lot of you were super curious about how that works.<br />
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Here's the deal - I'm a 60% right-brainer and a 40% left brainer. While that can be wildly helpful in the skill set department, it can also make me straight crazy in the balance department. What I mean is, if I was primarily right-brained, it would be far easier for me to focus on crafts and play time and big, fun hooplah with my family - and embrace a little more chaos. If I was primarily left-brained, it would be far easier for me to focus on details and schedules and discipline - and embrace a little more structure. I would naturally lean a good bit in one direction or the other...I think. And as long as they are not competing against one another, I do just fine. But since I am both, and motherhood absolutely does require full function of the right and left brain, it behooves me to take some detail, decision-making out of my everyday. The details drain me while I'm trying to be present with my people - and it matters very much to me that I be present with my people. Also, I actually love to cook - it's grounding and rhythmic nature is nourishment for my creative, introverted soul. When all the people need me and I really just need to get something on the ever-lovin' table, things start to unravel.<br />
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Good planning makes space for more settled meal times, and some of my most treasured childhood memories revolve around meal times - because we all sat around a set table - with glass plates and real silverware, and ate a meal at least 4 nights/week. This is a thing that is important for me to accomplish in my own home. Monthly meal planning is one way I am able to throw myself a bone and, every once in a while, enjoy cooking a meal! Want to hear how it works AND get your own FREE, color-coded menu calendar?<br />
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FAN-tastic.<br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Breakfast & Lunch</span> - I hate the process of deciding what's to eat for breakfast and lunch. I really don't mind preparing it, but I'm not a fan of choosing items and having my kids decide they don't want what I chose. This way, they know what's coming. If they choose not to eat, too bad, so sad. They can eat better at the next meal. So, I plan a week's worth and then repeat them every week. </li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Supper</span> - I plan my suppers (or dinners) by month. I cook 4 times/week. I repeat that same menu every month for that season. The one pictured here is for summer. So, we eat a different meal every night for 4 weeks. Then, I rinse, wash, and repeat until the next season rolls around.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Snacks</span> - I actually used to plan all of our snacks, too, but I found that this was an area that we just needed wiggle room on. So, I usually have a salty cracker - like goldfish or peanut butter crackers, a sweet - like graham crackers or animal crackers, and some fruits and veggies. This keeps everyone content while also keeping the grocery bill down.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Monthly</span> - I actually don't shop by month very often simply because plans change, meals get skipped, and I end up with way more pasta in my pantry than I'll actually need for quite a while. You absolutely could take this a step further and store a grocery list with the menu for what you'd need each week. I just like to make mine all at once and add in the basics I'll need for the week. I shop every Monday (ideally), and since I always have at least one child with me, it is more valuable to me to shop the same grocery store where I know every aisle and can get in and out as quickly as possible than it is to "deal" shop.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Make Ahead</span> - I try to prepare as much ahead as possible. Some of these meals are super easy to make a big batch of and freeze half, etc. This makes my life so very much easier!</li>
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And that's it! This isn't rocket science and for some of you, it'll sound like the worst idea in the world. Totally fine! Go on out withca bad self and come up with your own way of making space to enjoy the things and people you love.</div>
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If, however, you feel excited about this option...download either my summer menu or a blank one for you to fill out on your own! Another option is to buy a super cheap calendar and fill it out with your own color coding system. You do you, sister. You do you.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=0ByRJQGg51LDKNTZEaFBWYzlYX0k" target="_blank">CLICK TO DOWNLOAD MY SUMMER MENU</a></span></td></tr>
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Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-28988037878366210472017-05-09T06:06:00.000-06:002017-05-09T09:59:53.521-06:00Stay.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"If you are staying married just because you told Jesus you would - for no other reason at all - you are winning." - Me to a friend several days ago</blockquote>
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We want it all to make sense. We want the equation to work. Respect him and he'll love you. Love her and she'll respect you. While the idea isn't ridiculous and <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians+5%3A22-33&version=ESV" target="_blank">is biblically based</a>, I want to offer some encouragement to all of you who are in a marriage that just doesn't quite pan out that way, but you're still showing up, loving and respecting the best you can today - or maybe you're just showing up with a fair amount of unsureness and inability.<br />
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Sometimes you are both doing the best you can do and it still isn't working. This is where more than 50% of the population calls it - time of death: it-doesn't-feel-good-anymore-o'clock. This is where we decide whether we meant our vows or we didn't.<br />
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The Blackwell's are there with you. We love each other - truly we do - but it's been quite a long stretch now of not feeling particularly excited about each other and certainly of not being on the same page. I'm not going to go into all the details because, quite frankly, this is not the forum for that, but suffice it to say - we are muddling and fighting our way through, too. We are frustrated, wounded, and exhausted due to the past several years of our lives together, and we can't quite figure out how to get back into a good rhythm with each other. Y'all, we have both wanted to give up - quit trying - stay but not work so hard at thriving. Oh, how we've wanted to quit, but every time, the Holy Spirit reminds us that this is not what our Jesus came for - <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+10%3A10&version=ESV" target="_blank">He didn't come for half lives or half marriages</a>. So, we pick ourselves up off the ground to look one another in the eye again, ready for another go at it. We are bone tired weary, but we are not NOT showing up. I promised to actively love this man until I die - and while there are days, weeks and months that I very much want to flip him the bird, roll my eyes, or head for the hills, I will not - because I promised my God that I wouldn't. I promised Him I would stay - and because I rest so confidently in His great love for me, His abundant power and resources, and <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john+5%3A7-14&version=ESV" target="_blank">His promises of blessing for obedience</a> - I stay. We stay.<br />
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So, how do you stay when you reach the place of feeling like it's all a big pile of poop?<br />
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<ol>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Pray that junk down. </span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1578093484794055475#editor/target=post;postID=1720633117716611818;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=3;src=postname" target="_blank">I have written about this concept before</a> because it revolutionized my life. It freed me up from having to manipulate, push, and control circumstances or, specifically, Josh. When I know what my heart is telling me but my man isn't there yet, the answer is to submit and pray that junk down. This is also important and applicable in the realm of protection and power. His role in our home is a thing that we cannot begin to understand the weight and responsibility of. We should praying for our husbands even more fervently and often than we pray for ourselves and our children. When you don't know what or how to pray for your man (or anything else in your life), <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Family-Sylvia-Gunter/dp/1931379033" target="_blank"><i>For the Family</i> by Sylvia Gunter</a> is my very fave. Don't be thrown off by the dated cover, she is an epic prayer fighter. I've learned so much by praying through her book.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Tell the truth. </span>I am just now learning to do this well. I mean, not the part where I tell the truth - that's been relatively easy for me, but the part that I do it after careful calculation and without letting my emotions dictate my delivery. We ought to be intentional to create space for one another to tell the truth - about our own struggles and about potential pitfalls in our spouse's life. It's sticky and awkward and potentially dangerous because, in this case, delivery matters enormously. If you verbally berate your spouse and then tag on an, "I'm saying all of this because I love you," it doesn't have QUITE the effect you might hope. Speak with kindness, pour on grace, practice patience - and be willing to sit in the yuck with your spouse.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Be nice.</span> I am so serious about this. This is a thing that, other than a few times a year, we do a pretty good job at. We don't call each other names - ever - well except in our heads. We are only human. We don't belittle or demean. We try to help one another and give each other space. We aren't always perfect, but the rule, in our house, is be nice. That applies to all of us, and it helps prevent long lasting, deep wounds.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Spend time together. </span>Fight with every breath you have to make time to be together. Not on your phones. Not doing separate activities in the same room. Together. I'm not saying all day every day - but once a week-ish, in my experience, a few hours of just the two of you will make a big difference. I know the whole - but what about our kids, our job, our extended family - is hard. Your kids will feel more secure when they know their mama and daddy love and enjoy each other. Your job will still be there in a few hours. Your extended family will like you better if you like each other. Something's gotta give, friends - and it should never, ever be our marriages.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Be aware of your own humanity. </span>When our needs are not being met in our marriages over extended periods of time, whatever that may look like, we become more vulnerable to allowing them to be met in other relationships. This is what, more often than not, leads to affairs. I am HYPER sensitive to this in my own life because I KNOW I am not immune. It's better to be considered cold by your co-workers or other friends of the opposite sex than to find yourself smack in the middle of a relationship with someone that you didn't even see coming. I'm not saying you have to BE cold to keep things healthy, but I AM saying that the world just might see it that way. See the whole <a href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/commentary/ct-mike-pence-trump-lunch-women-wife-sexism-billy-graham-perspec-0403-jm-20170331-story.html" target="_blank">Mike Pence thing</a> for reference. </li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Have the sex.</span> I don't have a lot to say about this, but I remember reading something by Jen Hatmaker - possibly in <i>For the Love</i> - that sometimes you just need to have the sex. When you don't know what else to do and there aren't any serious, need to talk this out with a third-party emotional wounds - you just need to come together again. God values sex in marriage. Maybe we should, too.</li>
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When Josh and I moved to Colorado in the fall of 2014, we prepared ourselves for a full force attack on our marriage. We knew this is where we would likely be hit the hardest, and we weren't wrong. Josh was crazy busy and extraordinarily alive in what he was doing, which meant he didn't have a lot to give me or need a lot from me. I was still neck deep in baby while also trying to get our oldest settled in school and figure out what my role was or needed to be in our church. In some ways, I was also extraordinarily alive albeit not as much as Josh because of the baby situation - which IS a gift, but not one that necessarily made me feel vibrant and alive. This boiled down to us being prone to cross paths, throw high fives, and slap good enough on our marriage.<br />
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Also, we were sick a lot. Everyone. For all the fall and winter and most of the spring months we were there, someone was puking or snotting or coughing with fever. Let your imagination go wild.<br />
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All that to say, we knew we had to fight to spend time together, to see each other, and to protect our marriage. So, we did. We went out without our children about once every ten days - this was a result of having a good pool of babysitters at our fingertips who we knew well because we were planting a church with their families. We went out together often, and while we still had our share of issues (<a href="http://emilypblackwell.blogspot.com/2015/10/again.html" target="_blank">this isn't the first time I've written about marriage being crazy hard</a>), we began to enjoy one another more and more. We began to live like we were on the same side. It was a gift.<br />
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Right now - it's not that simple. We are not on the same page. That isn't a cry for help or an admission of defeat - it's just the truth. We can say those truths aloud to each other and then plow through them because of one thing...we are in this. Neither one of us is packing our bags and hitting the road - not literally, not figuratively. We promised our God, and so we stay. We fight. We honor. We love. We screw up. We say we are sorry. We pray. We get up and try again tomorrow.<br />
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That's it. You're not alone. Stay. If the only reason you stay is because you stood at an altar and promised God you would, you are winning, and you are in the company of every couple who has ever made it 'til death do us part.<br />
<br />Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-57585515661547880552017-04-24T12:35:00.000-06:002017-04-24T12:35:30.216-06:00Making Space<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Photo cred: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Molly-Purvis-Photography-184642654824/" target="_blank">Molly Townsend, my sister, queen of photography.</a></div>
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These are our babies, my sister's and mine - all spectacularly unique and still so little that they only know how to be - and make space for exactly who they are. My mom, in fact, overheard an interchange between Emily Ellen and Marilee a few months ago that still gets us tickled. They were coloring happily together until someone did something that escalated into the exchange of ugly words. They paused and Emily Ellen said to Marilee, "We should probably say we're sorry," to which my Marilee quickly replied, "I'm not sorry." At which point Emily Ellen responded, "I'm not either." And it was over. They went back to coloring. And while they may have some things to learn about apologizing when you don't feel like it, they also have some things to teach us about making space for each other. They had their tiff, said their junk aloud to one another, and then moved right along in their relationship with one another. They are so, so good at making room for each other's ugly, and I am just about smitten with it.</div>
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Can we just talk, for a minute, about how challenging it is to become the person we want to be? But seriously, I was just looking through my Evernote Notebooks (my husband just did a herkie because he has a SERIOUS Evernote crush) and found a note that I wrote in January. Not that many months ago. That I forgot existed. At all. It is a list of my goals for this year. It reads like this:<br />
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<i><b>Bible</b><br /><ul>
<li><i>Read through the New Testament with Calvary and journal via the FB page and Insta.</i></li>
</ul>
<b>Prayer</b><br /><ul>
<li><i>Pray daily with purpose and passion - but most of all with persistence.</i></li>
</ul>
<b>Writing</b><br /><ul>
<li><i>Write daily for one hour.</i></li>
</ul>
<b>Bellwether</b><br /><ul>
<li><i>Pray and watch for next steps.</i></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Exercise</span></i><ul>
<li><i>Jog 1 mile 3 days/week. </i></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><i>Work up in ab exercises 3 days/week.</i></li>
</ul>
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<li><i>Work up in pull ups 3 days/week.</i></li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
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Lumpkin.</div>
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I have managed to sort of mostly keep up with the Calvary reading plan. The end. That is all. </div>
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I'm so good at list making and dreaming and feeling all the feelings. I'm so bad at list doing. There is more to this issue than just, "I mean - nobody keeps their New Year's resolutions." I am easily distracted by too many dreams, and I get all wrapped up in all my feelings. So many feelings and desires and passions. </div>
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"Sometimes I have big feelings where big feelings are not needed." - <a href="http://www.instagram.com/michallynn" target="_blank">Michal Lynn Tweedie</a></blockquote>
And so this becomes the issue for us dreamers. To step out of the dream world long enough to live in the real one. To put the feelings aside in order to take up the task at hand. But lists like that one up there - they are valuable, because now I remember. I remember what I set out to do in 2017, and 2017 ain't over, baby. Maybe I'll go for a jog tomorrow. Maybe you can ask me about it? Maybe I'll journal a little better about what God is teaching me through personal Bible Study. Maybe you can ask me about that, too?<br />
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Together is, in my experience, the hardest and also the most sure-fire way to get to the place you want to be.<br />
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If you're married - or really even if you are not - chances are God has put someone in your life who is the opposite of you. The very, exact opposite. I hung out with a new friend last week who expressed how very not-feely she is and how it slap wears her out when women pour out and swim in all their feelings. I giggled and shared with her that my propensity is, in fact, to BE one of those women - except that I have learned that my feelings can either be drowning agents or tools for growth. The first is what they are when I let them guide my life. The latter is what they are when I choose to look for what (or who) they are pointing me to. She later shared that sharing her "junk" in front of people is a hard thing for her. I love, love this about both of us. Can you see it? How our struggles and strengths actually complement each other?!<br />
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I have to tell you that Josh and I are struggling to muddle through how we can complement and not crush each other. We've been married for nearly twelve years, and we are so different than we were a decade ago. But our personalities are the same as they were - different as ever. Last night we had a big word vomit fest where we just laid it all on the table - everything we're muddling through. And apart from Jesus, it seems impossible to love each other well. That's the truth. But with Jesus, with Him - only Him - He can lead us both to Evernote (herkie #2) at the same time to sort out what we are thinking and feeling. Me in a coffee shop. Josh in a meeting room. And we can giggle wildly when we share our notes because his is in detailed bullet list form and mine is in the shape of a very pretty, wordy few paragraphs that reads half like a prayer and half like a journal entry.<br />
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My point is this - God has all sorts of ways of refining us - and I've come to learn that it's almost entirely through relationships. When we run into a person who challenges us, who forces us to think a little differently, who asks hard questions, who disagrees with us - what do we do? Do we run? Do we shut down? Or do we bravely, boldly say, "You. I choose you because walking alongside you will make me more like Jesus, more whole, more changed." Do we dare to be exactly who we are while blending lives with the ones who are not like we are, but are seeking to love Jesus like we are?<br />
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Gosh, I hope so. Because this is the body of Christ. Saying it hurts when it hurts. Asking about the run or the sin or the dream. Making space for feelings even when they aren't needed but loving a person too much to let them be led by their feelings instead of God's loving, disciplining Word and guiding Spirit. Making space for bullet lists even when they're boring but loving a person too much to let them be led by their doing instead of God's gracious, freeing Word and guiding Spirit. This is part of the richness of following Jesus alongside all the other ones who are following Him. It's messy and hard but He's using us to move each other toward wholeness, friends! Let's not miss it.<br />
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Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-20251369164924247062017-02-28T19:37:00.003-07:002017-02-28T19:37:53.226-07:00Roots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Something in my chest today kept me quiet. The wind blew steadily through the azaleas and the oaks and the not-yet-green crepe myrtles, moving branches and leaves, sending bees scurrying. The old white steeple stood high peeking from behind the pink flowers. It was balmy and a little overcast - and extraordinarily beautiful. I've been there before, of course. My Paw-Paw is buried there. He went to be with Jesus when I was 9. We went a few times after that, and I always remember how green it was. Maybe that's partially because I knew the town was actually called Evergreen - I don't really know. Regardless, I remember it as abundant and lush. And going back as an adult, I can tell you that it did not disappoint. I can, in fact, tell you that it took my breath away.<br />
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I feel very nearly on the verge of tears typing this out, and I can't quite put my finger on why. There is something so deeply magical about deep roots. Family lines full of good people with good hearts and good stories - mess-ups and mistakes, to be sure - but mostly good and mostly people who followed Jesus with their lives the best way they knew how. Every time I pause to remember this, I find myself a little choked up, overwhelmed with gratitude and something that really does feel very much like I imagine magic would - pricking and warming, whispering old stories and new. Because I know what a rare and unusual thing it is to have such deep, grounding, good, healthy roots. Again I say, flawed of course, lest you think I am riding my high horse.<br />
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It makes me consider all those names listed in the Bible - the ones I just skip over because for-the-love-of-all-the-land, must I try to sound ANOTHER one out? It makes me think about how each of those names represented a whole life - lived either well or poorly, and how that life influenced the one after that and the one after that and the one after that - among all the ones that it influenced as they walked alongside one another.<br />
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In my world, family is a big, big deal. It always has been, and I am so glad about that.<br />
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But I want to say something to all of you that maybe feel like your roots don't run deep or if they do, they're not healthy and nourishing. I want to say something to those of us who think that our roots are the best roots. I want you to hear that Jesus gives us new roots. That He specifically says that the people who decide to follow Him, they are His true mother and brother and cousin. And if we are adopted into the family of Christ, it must follow that we now share in His lineage! What a gift, y'all. What roots we have! Abraham and Moses and Rahab and David and Peter and Paul and Timothy and Martin Luther and C.S. Lewis and my Paw Paw and the person who led you to Christ. What an amazing, incredible gift - new roots, wider roots, deeper roots. Roots of faith and returning when you leave and of saying what you mean and of praying enormous prayers and of making mission fields out of every piece of ground you stand on and of hanging on when everything says to let go. Good, healthy, rich roots.<br />
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Friends, this is no small thing. And it overwhelms me that God grafts us in - that whether our earthly roots are solid and grounding and good or not is really of no consequence in His kingdom, because when we say, "Yes," to Him, we get new, immovable, sustaining veins that steady us as we grow up, up, up toward the God who planted us in the first place.<br />
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We are held steady by up-from-the-grave roots, friends. Let's be grateful for that gift!Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-81652723890581087132017-02-23T09:47:00.002-07:002017-02-23T09:47:36.658-07:00In a Million Ways<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Can I just tell you that your pictures radiate happiness? I get the feeling that it is an accurate portrayal."<div>
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I received this from a dear and sweet friend just yesterday, and I quickly responded that she is correct. We are happy in a million ways. But also that really is only half the story because nothing is ever only roses or thorns. </div>
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I have been quiet about the hard places in my life since our move, broadcasting all the ways moving back home is a gift, a truly extravagant gift. And it is. It has been, in some ways, like taking a tranquilizer - restful and without worry. Most things feel more doable, less overwhelming because my people are here. The people who already know my flaws and love me anyway. The people who love my kids like I do. The places that built the foundation of my story. That is a grounding, good thing, friends. Adelle rides her bike to my parents' house at least once a week just to bake cookies or visit for an hour. Josh's parents drop in for spontaneous visits. We do real and true life with my sister and her family. We get to see Josh's siblings far more often than we ever have before. When we go to church or to the store or to the bakery, we see people with whom we share genetics and history and unconditional love - and aside from Jesus there is little that is more comforting and restful and grounding. </div>
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And also this move has been hard, too. We ache for Colorado almost daily. We miss the mountains, our church, our friends, and our neighborhood. We miss Jack's, daily walks to the bus stop, snow in the winter, and hammocks in the summer. I miss Ralston Creek Trail with everything inside of me. I miss Jill and Jennifer and Abby and Laurel and a million others. I miss walking through the doors at Storyline, exchanging "Hellos" and weekly updates among a church family that God allowed us to help build with our time and hands and prayers and tears. We had built a home and a life there that we loved very much. My oldest has struggled mightly to find her place. We have all struggled with insecurities and unsurety about where exactly we fit as new people, molded and changed by different cultures and places, back in a place that is largely the same as when we left. Just as wonderful and warm as ever - but different because we are different. </div>
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I knew this would be the case, of course. I didn't expect to arrive home and have all my struggles and fears and doubts and insecurities be healed. This is not the way of God - to heal us with circumstances. I tell it to my single friends and those aching for a baby - and I tell it to myself. God heals us when we draw near to Him for healing. </div>
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Just today I was reading the story in Mark 1 about the man with leprosy who approached Jesus and said, "If you are willing, heal me." And it says that Jesus felt great compassion toward the man and said, "I am willing." And He healed him.</div>
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Friends, we are all broken to pieces in a million ways - and I want you to know that while moving to my hometown has been good and wonderful in a million ways, too, it hasn't stitched up all my broken places. In fact, some pieces have split wider since arriving, and for that I am grateful because when I become aware of those broken places, I know I can run straight to the One who is willing and able to stitch me up whole again.</div>
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Circumstances will not make you whole. Only Jesus will. Are you running to him with all your yucky today?</div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-65027497832215227262017-01-08T06:26:00.000-07:002017-01-08T06:26:44.513-07:00Nothing Left to Prove<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wading into potential blindspots so God can do some (often scary) work there is a significant part of following Jesus. I believe that God's Word is the best place to go when you can't quite sift through what is true and what feels true. Lots of times we really want to go to the Bible so that it can confirm what feels true, not to challenge it - but often, challenge our comfortable is exactly what it does! This can make reading the Bible feel like a verbal beating - if you don't understand that its words are meant for healing not beating.<br />
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I'm reading the New Testament with my church this year. We started in Matthew on January 1st, and Matthew has always been one of my favorite books. I never can put my finger on exactly why, maybe because its every word shouts "Jesus was really, real - and His words are really true!" But this time - y'all - Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Phew. It's all sorts of bringing the hurt - and also the healing. </div>
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I'm not going to tell you about all of it because I'm still wading through a lot of stuff that comes with a year like our family has had, stuff that I can't quite tell yet what should be shared and what shouldn't. I've found that the best policy when that happens is just to sit quietly. But as I was reading in <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+6+-+7&version=ESV;MSG" target="_blank">Matthew 6 and 7</a> today, I noticed that Chapter 6 begins with a lot of business about what not to do loudly or publicly, about "Do not worry," and "Don't be a Judgey-von-holier-than-thou," and such. While it does certainly sound like a lot of "Do not's," Jesus flows right into this tender and empowering moment of - "Sweet friends, just ask for what you need. When you feel like you are not good enough, instead of making a performance out of our relationship, just ask me for what you need. You are enough in me. When you feel like you don't or won't have enough, just ask me for what you need. You have enough in me. God is wildly in love with you - do you really think He won't give you everything He knows you need and more?" </div>
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Jennie Allen says it best <a href="https://www.facebook.com/IFgathering/videos/1155952117787477/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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"Something about the ability to say who we are and whose we are causes humility to come out of us. We can get on our knees and say our junk and do the humble, lowly task because we have nothing to prove and nothing protect. When you have nothing to protect and nothing to prove, you get so dangerous! When you have nothing to protect and nothing to prove, you will taste freedom for the first time in your life. If you wanna be free, stop trying so hard. See, the idea of the Christian life is, 'I'm going to invite myself into your life. I'm going to exchange me for you.' Honey, you've got nothin' left to prove."</div>
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She's right. When you are all wrapped up in Jesus, you don't need to perform or worry or judge because He really is enough.</div>
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What is God teaching you right now?</div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-38867971690341867032017-01-04T19:57:00.001-07:002017-01-05T07:39:36.189-07:00Why Noonday?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If I am going to tell you about my journey to Noonday, I need to go way back. Before babies and church planting and home ownership - basically before any real adulting started for Josh and me. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Radical </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">by David Platt came </span>sprawling<span style="font-family: inherit;"> across the American church culture - sending us all spinning and chewing and wrestling and running. Some of us ran way too far with the whole thing, exalting him and his words to near Scripture authority - which he never demanded from us, but I digress. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I read <i>Radical</i>, and I was deeply convicted. I was also deeply shamed. There is a difference. <span style="font-size: large;">Conviction is for healing. Shame is for crippling.</span> I had just bought some new curtains. Curtains I'd saved up for - for like, a year - because of the part where we weren't really adulting yet and therefore didn't have a lot of money at our disposal. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I remember lying on the couch next to Josh, tears honest-to-goodness sliding down my face, and saying, "Do I have to take my curtains back now?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">And so it has gone - on and on through my growing process - this battle with consumerism. Do I control it or does it control me? Am I terribly selfish because I like pretty things, and I like to buy them for my house and my kids and me? What kind of person does it make me that there are people literally dying from lack of food and clean water while I whine about curtains?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">And also God is gracious and kind and loves to see me enjoy that which I love to enjoy, within the bounds of what is healthy for me. So what about that?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Back and forth we go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Fast forward to two babies later and I participated in Jen Hatmaker's <i>Seven</i>. Not because I felt guilty or because I was looking for a big, crazy change your life thing, <span style="font-size: large;">but because I had learned that choosing to wade into what looks suspiciously like a mess of blindspots is a really valuable thing in following Jesus more honestly.</span> And my eyes were blown open to the idea of social and consumer responsibility. And instead of thinking, "How can I spend less to give more," I started thinking, "How can I spend more wisely to empower more broadly? How can I better see people as people rather than charity cases?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">And it changed me. It changed the way I saw the homeless, the very, very different than me, the rude, the arrogant, the judgmental, the whiny pants - I started looking them in the eyes and my heart started growing tender, soft, and pliable - open and curious. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Then I moved to an area of the country where we were the "poor" ones - and we were not poor. This was an interesting twist. Three babies in I took a job as a lifeguard which required me to pull hair out of drains - AKA the form of humility just above wiping grown-up's hineys. I didn't rub shoulders with people who had less than me for the most part - always people who had more. This changes your view point, slowly and surely.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">But then we moved back to my hometown, and Josh took a job that puts us neck deep in visible, tangible brokenness along with spiritual brokenness. And I found myself face to face, once again, with my extraordinary privilege and selfishness. I strolled down the sidewalk of one of the strip malls in town and found myself face to face with a very dirty man digging in and eating from a trash can on the sidewalk. His eyes - friends - <span style="font-size: large;">I was struck sick with all of the people, myself included, strolling in and out of stores buying what they didn't need while he ate scraps from a trash can. </span>I didn't have any cash or any food to give him, and so I walked by - headed into one of those good ole' poorly-made-clothing warehouses, my gut still lurching from what I'd just seen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;">I stood in the aisle fingering a necklace that I was considering buying (please know I hear your shout-y thoughts at me right now - I was delivering them to myself as well). I needed a new on to replace the last cheap gold number that had finally turned an awful shade of green. I flipped it over to find the price tag and discovered that it was $28. Twenty-eight. For a necklace I would have to replace in less than 6 months, that was likely made by severely underpaid employees - twenty-eight dollars that would never have anything to do with putting actual food on a person's table, or allowing them to keep and raise there own children. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">And then I thought about Noonday and what I had heard about it through social media and the IF:Gathering. I thought about how it actually is possible to, for not too much more money than the "cheap" stuff, buy pretty things AND affect change - about how we live in a day when that is a real thing. So, I began researching what it would look like to become part of this new thing called ethical fashion through Noonday.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love that I can know the stories of the people I'm buying from - that when I buy form them I'm not contributing to another needless fundraiser or money for the sake of money - I'm </span>contributing<span style="font-family: inherit;"> to the actual livelihood of a person that would otherwise not have the same opportunities to thrive. I can know their stories and sometimes look into their eyes. <span style="font-size: large;">The truth is, people usually want the opportunity to use their hands more than they want a handout.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And also - the jewelry is SPECTACULAR! I mean truly - each one is a statement piece, and I'm a girl who likes to make a statement.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So in the end, the becoming a Noonday Ambassador was an easy choice. Click that link over on the right (you might have to scroll down a bit) and you can peruse our Fall/Winter line - and maybe buy a few things. You'll love some of it and the rest of it one of your friends or family will love! </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;">Follow me on social media - Facebook and Instagram - for more updates about the beauty of Noonday, how to host a trunk show, how to become an ambassador, how to get in on my Noonday launch party - <span style="font-size: large;">about creating a flourishing world where children are cherished, people have jobs, women are empowered and we are connected. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;">Let's take our privilege (because if you have a computer or phone and the internet at your regular disposal, you are already more privileged than most of the world) and leverage it for good, friends. <span style="font-size: large;">Let's change the world!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But most of all, let's be kind and generous and conscious as we move through our days. No one should have to eat from a trash can while we buy cheap, fake comfort.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #64666d;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Love y'all like crazy!</span></span></span></div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-51121380741407563392016-10-01T19:22:00.000-06:002016-10-01T19:22:17.613-06:00The Down and Dirty Truth about Homeschooling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, we're homeschooling. I've mentioned that I think, but I don't think I've told you about how we arrived at that decision, about how it's impacted our life, and about how it hasn't.<br />
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Before we even knew we were leaving Arvada, circumstances began to align in such a way that we felt led to homeschool. Adelle was in a public school in Arvada, and our experience there was good. Truly good. We did not choose to homeschool because we thought the public school system was failing us. But the more I studied the classical education model, the more sense it made to me - the more it sounded like a thing that would produce thriving, free-thinking, life-long learners - capable of having and defending their own thoughts and opinions in a thoughtful, respectful way. Homeschooling would also allow us to introduce our kids to certain ideas on our own timetable - all things sex, evolution, etc. We are not afraid of our children learning about those things, but we would like to decide when it's best to explain those ideas to them.<br />
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So, we began to pray about the idea, and after a series of events tripped over each other and fell at our feet, our answer seemed very clear. We would take Adelle out of a school she loved, and I would teach her at home.<br />
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Now, let me say that this was not the easy answer for us. Adelle and I, um, find ourselves at impasse at least once a day. We love each other a lot - and also we drive each other crazy. So, the thought of us being together all the day every day again made me nervous, real nervous. Throw in a preschooler and a toddler - and lawsy, I was terrified.<br />
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Fast forward to our move, to the fact that we didn't know what school district we would find ourselves in for the short term or the long term - and not enrolling Adelle in a school that she would just have to leave when we got settled, well that seemed like some pretty spectacular forethought on God's part.<br />
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Now, there are a few things that, 6 weeks in, homeschooling at my parents' house while we try to find a home to live in, etc, etc, etc - that I thought might be helpful for anyone that has ever considered keeping your kids at home for a year:<br />
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">It's not that hard. </span>I want to be careful here not to give unrealistic expectations. I am a semi-organized person who has been working with children in some capacity for most of my life. Even so, I'm not a trained teacher, and it's legitimately not that hard. The planning and teaching part, at least. So, don't feel like - oh gosh, how will I ever teach my kids? I'm not a teacher! You don't have to be. Seriously.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">It's crazy, super hard. </span>For this first year, at least, I have lost my ability to do much beyond be present with my kids all week. I feel like that might adjust a bit once we are in a space of our own, but for the time being - during the week - I am basically interacting with one of my kids at all times, which can be exhausting for all parties involved. The whining and the shouting and the neediness - I'm only one person!</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">You get to modify the plan.</span> We are not a lifelong homeschooling family. We are a year by year, child by child family. And as we have moved into this year, we are finding that my middle one, Marilee, who hasn't spent much time in an organized classroom, is excelling in everything I'm teaching her - to the point that I can't quite keep up with her - and the best thing we can do for her is put her in a preschool experience - to see what might be best for her next year. So, Adelle and Jude will be home with me in the mornings while Marilee is in preschool. And next year, Adelle might just go back into public school. Or maybe private - but prolly not because of the dollars.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Life is school. </span>We've had to adjust our thinking. We are still trying to adjust our thinking. It's school when we read a story or count to 100 or measure out flour. It's school when we talk about what day of the week it is - what day it was yesterday and what day it will be tomorrow. It's school when we look at prices of items in the grocery store and determine whether or not we have enough left in the weekly budget for the ice cream or not. It's school when we drill our math facts while racing across the swimming pool. It's school when we learn manners during a tea party. Life is one grand learning experience - it would do us all good to remember that once in a while.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I wanted to quit. </span>Again, let me reiterate that our current experience is not the norm. We are in schooling in transition and will be doing so for a good month more. And yesterday, Adelle felt defeated, Marilee felt overlooked, Jude felt - loud, and I felt like the worst mama ever. Tired and all wrong - but then I remembered why we chose this for the year. Because of the slow - because we want our kids to grow up good and slow. And so if for a year, they are bored out of their minds (which I am learning how to combat), that's okay - because life is slower than it would be if she was in school. And it wouldn't be all bad if she was in school - honestly - but God said to go this route this year - and so we are sticking with it - trusting His sovereignty. </li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I am learning as much as they are. </span>While I am learning/re-learning all sorts of fantastic facts and concepts, I am also learning a great deal about myself - about my weaknesses, and my strengths. About trying too hard and not hard enough. About harsh tones and gracious touches. About each of my kids - how they learn - just how different they all are. That I need Jesus again and again and again all day long if I'm going to have a fighting chance at doing this well. About how much it matters that they see me needing Jesus.</li>
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I'll try to stop in every six weeks to give you an update - for anyone who is curious - about our homeschooling journey. I don't feel like I have a lot of concrete advice to give you right now simply because we are just beginning to make some good, concrete decisions. Ask anything you want - and I'll tell you what I have and haven't learned so far!</div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-50656193617370471972016-09-26T06:45:00.001-06:002016-09-26T06:47:08.699-06:00Cartwheels and Collapses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="versenum" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">13 </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-19649A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-19649A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">You will seek me and find me, when you seek me </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-19649B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-19649B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 14px;">A few months, ago a reader approached me concerned about my happiness based on my social media presence. This forced me to step back and examine what I'm putting forth - how I'm writing, and the image I'm giving everyone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 14px;">And what I want to tell you is that I am happy - and some days I'm not. There are days when the visible grace around me overwhelms me to the point of tears. There are days when all I can see is the endless one-foot-in-front-of-the-other path that spans ahead of me all the way up to forever, and I have to strain hard to see the grace around me. But I do strain to see it - and God just keeps heaping enough of it over me to be able to do that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 14px;">Life is such a grand, complex gift - and I'm not one thing or the other all the time. There are pieces of me that are still broken but there are others that are overwhelmingly full of joy and glee. Is that true of you, too? The deepest desire of my heart is to let you see my ache - the pieces of my that are still broken - that I'm still watching for Jesus to stitch right up. And for you to know that I believe Him for that. I believe Him for the healing. Because I was healed. I am being healed. And I will be healed. This is what it is to follow Jesus into eternity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 14px;">So, friends - today, if you look out on your life and you can't help but swell up big with gratitude - that's good, so good - and true. But if you are sad and exceptionally aware of those still broken pieces - that's good, too, especially if you are looking for Jesus to put them back together again. If all you can find to be grateful for today is Jesus Himself, that is enough. That is, in fact, all there is. And it's just as true, sweet friend. Don't think that you're all wrong because you're not cartwheeling through life like your neighbor. Whether you are cartwheeling or collapsing - if you are doing it toward Jesus, you are doing it right. So, so right. And I want you to know that you are seen. He sees you where you are, as you are. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 14px;"> </span>Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578093484794055475.post-274357473324147422016-09-24T07:10:00.001-06:002016-09-24T08:13:24.817-06:00I Love Ya', Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday, I walked out of our Life Group with the sea of people heading to the bathroom and passed one of the dad’s I used to babysit for. It had been a good morning, but the week’s unexpected turn of events had left me feeling disoriented and tired. Mr. David was visiting with someone else, so I patted him on the arm, planning on just passing by when he stopped, looked me in the eye, and said,
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"Em-ly, ah lov ya bay-beh."
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His words just kept echoing in my ears. His kindness via cajun accent draping across my weary shoulders, comforting my unsure heart.
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Welcome home.
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There is a warmth to going home again that cannot be found anywhere else. When you walk in the doors and hear over and over again, “We’re so glad y’all are back,” and you know it’s not because they think you’re awesome or impressive. It’s mostly just because they love you now like they’ve loved you since you were a bow-headed eight year old, a brace-faced, awkward seventh grader, and a boy-smitten, oblivious teenager. They’ve loved you right to the marriage altar and sent you off to a big, big world - where you, for the most part, thrived. And now they welcome you home because they love you - and on top of it all, they love your kids - like they’ve always been here or something.
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They are not perfect, but then neither are you. Sometimes we grow up, and we start to feel really good about how smart we are, how enlightened we’ve become - and we see all the things we do not like about the people and places of our childhood. Some people can’t understand why we would want to move back to our itty bitty Louisiana hometown when we were doing all the “big” things and living in the perfect weather and mountains or beach and such, and I understand their point. Truly. But I think that a lot of people in our generation - myself included - allow pride in progression to break ties to the very things, and more importantly the very people, who loved us into who we are. To be fair, you can do both. You can have roots and wings - and coming home has reminded me of just how important those roots are.
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It’s also reminded me how important it is to make sure people who are walking into a new place feel that same sort of warmth. It won’t be exactly the same, obviously - time layers warmth like blankets in the winter. But I know what it is to have to fight your way into a place, to be the one who is trying to pile on blankets and create the warmth when you’re already the new kid standing out in the cold.
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So today, wherever you are, stop what you’re doing, look someone in the eye, and tell someone who looks a little tired or lonely that you are honest to goodness glad they’re here. This is the way of Jesus, I’m sure of it.
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P.S. I love you, Central Louisiana! </div>
Emily Blackwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104199288898267196noreply@blogger.com0