Not letting go

Last Tuesday, I allowed them to dope me up again, put me to sleep, and cut into me. Is that unnerving to anyone else? I think it's the lack of control I have that bothers me so much. We know about me and control, right? But, I came through it. They took my gallbladder out and found a sneaky hernia and fixed that while they were at it. Holes poked all up in my belly. Excellent.

1-2 days, they said. You'll be up and around in 1-2 days. They lied. We're on Day 6 and I still need a good long nap in the afternoon, my incisions are still sore, and I finally found a comfortable side sleeping position last night. This isn't shocking for me. I do not heal as quickly as most people, which I find highly annoying. I'm not one of those gals who lies around well. I used to have a medal in "Idol Hands". I was really good at doing nothing. Motherhood, it seems, stripped that title from me. Now all of this lying around frustrates me and, quite frankly, gives me way too much time to think. My friend, Lindsey, wrote a great post about the amount of time you have to do so as a stay at home mom and how that can be tricky. It turns out that when you literally sit by yourself in a room for days at a time, you get bored with the research and the reading and the daydreaming so you start peaking in the dark corners of your mind and heart.

Watch. out.

I cried over a Facebook post this morning because everything is floating at the surface. I dug too much. Or I dug the amount I should have a long time ago. I'm still working all of that out.

Last night in between frustrated sobs, I started saying this to God, "Enough! That's enough. I'm so sick and tired of our family being attacked. You make it stop right now! ENOUGH! Pause. But I want you to be glorified. And I will keep looking for you everywhere, in every situation. I. will. not. let. go. Pause. But could you please cut us some slack???"

And right now I'm grateful. Grateful that He uses a surgery and a length[ier than expected] recovery to do a little spring cleaning in my heart and mind. To remind me that I'm not "fine" but that I am blessed. To show me, again, that He is in control. To draw me into deep and honest conversation with Him. To take away the busyness so that I must do some serious wrestling and deal with some issues in my heart that have to be resolved for me to move forward in my relationship with Him. I am grateful that I can fuss at Him and say things like, "Enough," and He loves me in the middle of it. I'm thankful that He brings me back around to "But..."

Mostly, I'm grateful that HE. will. not. let. go!

The Truth about Being a Stay at Home Mom: Because We're Guhls!

They bounced merrily down the hall, bumping into each other and giggling wildly. I watched, sharing in a little bit of their uninhibited happiness, as my pint-sized three year old looked at her two friends and laugh-spoke, "Hey! Wets hold hands!" Without a moment's hesitation, the all grabbed hold of each other and continued to be bop their way down the hall. Suddenly, my girl turned around with a smile big as the sun and squealed, "Mommy, we wike to hold hands because we're guhls!"



I was struck. She is right. We like to hold hands, to be near each other, to feel the touch of another, to know that we have a friend, to bump into each other from every which way even when it hurts - because we're guhls.



I forgot how lonely the first year of a baby's life can be for mommy. It's hard to get out of the house and do the things that you normally would because you have to pack up your whole house to do it. You're so tired that the idea of packing up your whole house and doing anything other than what is absolutely necessary to survive today is out of the question. You're so lonely that you wish you could just get some sleep so you could have the energy to pack up the whole house and keep it clean and play with your kids and cook dinner the next day. You're so cranky that you start to slip into the poor pitiful me t-shirt because there's no one around to remind you that there are other people out there with life experiences just like yours - or life experiences much harder than yours - or to say, "Good job, Em. You're doing great!"



Then one Wednesday you force yourself to do all five days of last weeks Bible study homework because you're the leader and calling out two weeks in a row goes against every responsible bone in your body. You look into the faces of five other women, most of whom you don't actually know very well, and listen to THEIR stories and share a little of your own. You tell the truth and laugh a little and don't discipline anyone or get vomited on. You leave feeling about five hundred times better and it occurs to you, "I like to hold hands because I'm a guhl!"



Can I offer a piece of wisdom that I am learning? Always assume that everyone feels lonely. Take the initiative. BE. A. FRIEND. I can pretty much guarantee you that at least every other gal you come in contact with will eat it up - as though she's been friendship starved or something. As though she is weary of being the friend and taking the initiative and may have possibly given up on it all together. Seriously, be the friend. Not just the kind that says, "We should get together soon," but the kind that calls and says, "What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I have PB and J's and goldfish and you can come in your PJ's...without make-up if you want." If you're the one being asked, get over all of your hang ups and fears, pack up the house, throw the kids in the car, and make brushing your teeth your only beauty goal of the morning. Set aside your pride for some hand holding time instead of whining about it.



If we could all embrace both sides of the friendship, we might just be able to find the giggly little girl within - and be bop our way down the increasingly narrow, up hill hall of life.



Love y'all like crazy!

 

Next up: When you would give up coffee to get up and go to work

The start matters

I peaked over my new boppy pillow to see two eye brows shoot up above two very pretty blue eyes. "Mommy! You have cwayzy hayo!" I laughed out loud in my hoarse morning voice and scooped her up for some snuggle time. My Hunk/her Daddy walked out of the bathroom looking as handsome as ever and showered us with kisses and "I love you's".

I remembered to thank God for another day of life today. Out loud. And my girl and I talked about why we thank God for each new day.

The three of us ate breakfast at the table together. A rarity in our home, to tell you the truth. And I dove into my morning devotion and my two cups of coffee.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Hope. Joy. Peace. Trust. Power.

Those are strong words. All tied up in the God I serve.

I spent a little time at BabiesRUs.com and then at PotteryBarnKids.com registering and allowing myself to dream, even if just a little, of what my girls' rooms would like in the house we put an offer in on last week. It's a 1909 farmhouse. And it feels like the answer to yet another unspoken prayer. I've always wanted to live in a farmhouse. And this one is nothing short of beautiful. And quirky. And so.very.us.

Leaving the house in shambles felt okay with me today. Adelle was in high spirits in her new and admittedly adorable outfit. A goody from last year that just now fits and has a top to go with it! There was lunch to be had with old friends who I've missed having in my life on a day to day basis. We laughed. We chatted. We caught up on life. And I an into one of my Sweet Rolls and watched my little girl's eyes light up at the sight of her.

I left feeling really and truly blessed. And amazed at God's faithful attention to details. And His goodness to us here in this place that I've made no secret about NOT loving.

And then I tried to put my girl down for a nap knowing that I'd pushed her too late in the day. We'd missed the window. Forty-five minutes into laying with a wiggling toddler, I got up and headed out of her room. I figured 15 more minutes of alone time might send her to sleep. When I plopped down at the computer, I was groggy and a little annoyed. Already. This was 45 short minutes after my declaration of blessings. True life.

And there was the email. They decided not to sell the dream house at all. They're keeping it. And I got mad. When in pain, I come out of the gate fighting. Ready to hit something. Truly. And then when I realize that there really is nothing to be done about the situation, I'm a flight-er. Mentally I feel this overwhelming need to check out. And then Adelle sauntered out of her room and proceeded to look me in the eye while she did multiple things that were acts of blatant defiance. Truly. And with every last ounce of patience and strength sapped from me by that blasted email, I yelled. And slammed a door after I redeposited her in her room.

Not my proudest mommy moment.

This is the point at which I lost it entirely. I called my man and told him so. That I just wanted to drive away. I MAY have been pregnant sobbing while relaying this to him. Pregnant sobbing is worse than the ugly cry, for the record. He listened and said he was sorry and we hung up. There was nothing else to say, really.

And truth be known, this is a house, not a baby, that we lost. It's all about perspective, people.

So, I stopped and thought about all those words. Something about hope and peace and joy. Big, strong words. And I called upon the only one who can make them real in my life. I made the conscious decision to get up and dust and make that headband that I was planning on making. And cook our dinner. Because what else is there to do when you experience disappointment in life, both big and small? What else is there but to keep living joyfully in this day that you woke up thanking God for? Nothing. There's nothing else to do. Everything else looks too much like holding on to false control. And crazy.

I sniffled out an apology to Adelle and explained to her the importance of obeying through tears. She watched intently and then said, "Why you cwying, Mommy?" And I said, "I'm just having a hard day. I didn't get something that I really wanted but that's no reason for me to act ugly." And she leaned forward with a big hug and said, "I sowy I spit at you, Mommy."

So we moved through the rest of the evening. Not flawlessly. Not even happily for the entirety. But we ended it with a pretty new headband and a happy dance and some really girly squealing.

It seems that how I started my day had everything to do with how I ended it. God's Word never returns void and for that I am grateful.

Keep on keepin' it down and dirty. Love y'all like crazy!

Overloaded!

Well, folks, I'm overloaded.  Again.  I have a sickness.  It's official.  But God is teaching me so much through Experiencing God!  And I want to tell you all about it.  But for now I will just have to share a journal entry.

I give you the exact words of a barely awake Mama...

You will seek me and you will find me when you seek me with all of your heart.


It's 5:30 am.  5:30 am!  And I'm awake because I had to pee - and then God asked me to get up and spend tiem with Him - brought to mind Ms. P31 and all her up before anyone else glory.  I mentally argued for the length of my potty break but in the end His logic was be3tter - is one more hour of sleep actually going to matter?  And for that matter, don't you know I'm better at sustaining you than sleep?!  So, I made the decision, felt around the blinding darkness for my glasses, and then - 


You will seek me and you will find me when you seek me with all of your heart.


Loud and clear as a bell ringing into the muddled mess of my morning brain.


[Enter my almost two year old at 5:45 am]


Lord,  


I obeyed.  I got up and fixed my coffee and Adelle woke up to join me.  I'm trusting that you will honor my obedience and true desire to have some quiet alone time with you rather than the having of ACTUAL alone time.  The deepest desire of my heart is to obey you, Lord.  And as a wife and a mama I want to honor you in the everyday.  I never thought staying at home would feel so much like not contributing.  Please help me to sense the value of my work.  And help me find ways to take care of our home thriftily, Lord, fill me with your wisdom as I discipline and parent...wisdom beyond my own - like Solomon - so that there is no question of your work through me.  Fill me with affectionate respect for Josh - like Sarah - so that others will see you through our marriage.


Father, I cannot understand your ways.  I truly don't know where you are leading me or our family, but I do know that I trust you and where you lead, I will follow!  You are faithful.  And kind.  And true.  Oh how I need you!  You are the calmer of the universe, my world, and my soul!  Please come in and order my thoughts so that I can think clearly enough to hear our next task and then do it.


This is my true life prayer.  I cannot begin to tell you the frustration that mounted with every slap of tiny feet on the hard floor coming toward me.  It took a lot for me not to turn her around and throw her in bed with her Daddy.

And now I have to run out the door.  Again.  I miss y'all!  I'll be back soon.  Yes, I will.

Love y'all like crazy!

...And it's only noon?

Do you ever look down at the clock to find that it's only noon?  But surely not.  Surely you could not be this beaten, bruised, and humbled by noon.  And you think, "Would it be okay if we just hit reset and gave it another whirl?  Surely I can do better than this.  Surely."

Here's the short list of my battle wounds as of noon:

1. Deal with a situation that requires me to examine my own flaws and humble myself before another.  That was before 8 a.m.
2. Spend the next hour or so being annoyed with myself for having said flaws.
3. Take Miss M to the doctor and get embarrassed by her utter lack of manners.  [She freaked out when a child tried to talk to her and then threw a book on the floor of the very nice, new doctor's office and proceeded to step all over it.]  And by my obvious frazzled-ness.
4. Tell the new doctor who I am meeting for the first time that my husband is on staff at the church.  For no apparent reason I said it.  He wanted to know if we went to church with a friend of his.  I answered, "Yes...my husband's on staff there."  He didn't care.  Why did I say that?  I sound like one of THOSE pastor's wives...whoever they are.  
5. All the while frantically trying to keep Miss M calm and not throwing one of eight hundred fits.  And feeling like I need to explain to him that she's normally a really happy, sweet girl.  Then feeling like an idiot for caring so much about whether or not he knows she's a really sweet kid.
6. Look down at the clock on the way home and realize it's not quite noon yet...and already I feel like I have taken quite a beating.  

For the record, I really like our new pediatrician and his office and his staff.  Seriously...he rocks!  I also really enjoyed that he doesn't wear his wedding ring on his finger [I guess because of exams and stuff] but around his stethoscope...so it's still in plain site.  Way to make sure the world knows you're married Mr. [Admittedly Attractive] Pediatrician-who-interacts-with-women-all-day-long!  Also, he plays Christian music in his office. And his office manager came to find me and meet me because she knew it was our first visit.  And the office is exceedingly happy and fantastically appealing to kids.  I wish I could post pictures so you could see it!

Tragically, I could barely interact with Liz the office manager because of the book stomping episode.  Or Dr. M the married because of the continuous tantrums and frantic trying to keep her happy.  It was like I was there but wasn't really there...does that make sense?  I feel like for those of you with small, rather active children, it will.

Now that the house is quiet and my stinker is asleep I would like to veg out in front of the TV.  Somehow, though, it doesn't seem that doing so will refresh me.  Some time in God's Word, though?  Probably a better option.  I'll let you know which wins out in the end.

What refreshes you when your day has already wore you slap out and it's only noon?

Mayhave Monday: Church Skipper

I MAY or MAY NOT have skipped the church service yesterday.  I started my morning happy and excited to get there and spend time with friends and take a break from responsibilities...to be a part of the crowd.  One Sunday every once in a while of just being a part of the crowd helps me cope with the fact that my family and I SO are not just part of the crowd. 

Then there WAS a crowd outside of Miss Magnificent's room.  Parents waiting with their whining toddlers.  And I was determined just to be one of 'em.  Not to volunteer my knowledge or services.  I was just going to stand there until someone issued a solution for the problem.  But I couldn't.  You know I couldn't.  Two minutes into my determined part of the crowdness I marched myself to the front and volunteered to stay with the kiddos until the teacher arrived.  No teacher ever arrived, for the record.  And I spent my morning changing diapers and wiping snot noses and getting really annoyed.

So when my relief came - after LIFE group was over and service was scheduled to start - I was already severely cranky.  She walked in and said to my little girl, "Oh, your Daddy is The Hunk [except she said his real name]!"  And I turned from my diaper changing duties and said, "Yes, and I am his wife."  And then I was 8 shades of done.  Not because she was anything but kind or meant anything by the recognition of my child but it WAS because of the recognition of my child that I was done.  I've always been terrified of my kids being forced to live in the spotlight.  Since the day The Hunk decided vocational ministry was where God wanted him.  And there it was...some random woman who I certainly do not know reconized my baby.  And her Daddy. 

I peaced outta there ASAP without the heart to go to service.  Instead I grabbed a coffee and sat for some reflection.  How do I deal?  How do I push through that which brushes the deepest fears of my heart?  Or the deepest hurts?  I go to my Father.  I stop and let His Spirit move around in the deep - easing the fears and healing the hurts. 

I missed the service yesterday.  I did.  I'm not saying you should skip just because you had a bad morning.  Usually that's exactly when you SHOULDN'T skip.  All I'm saying is that the Holy Spirit taught me some stuff because or inspite of my shady service skipping.

More on THAT tomorrow.  Now get your hineys in gear.  Write something real and true and link up to YOUR POST below!

Keep on keepin' it down and dirty.  Love y'all like crazy!

Em

Dirty is relative, right?

I had big plans for yesterday.  The vacuuming and the dusting and the park going and the blogging all wrapped up with the family movie night.

Then in the middle of my attempt at a shower and a reasonable appearance, I discovered that my engagement ring had been moved by one Miss Magnificent.  And I freaked out.  Like maybe went a little crazy.  My eyes got all big.  I fell to my knees crawling about frantically...eye brows raised...raising up every once in a while to ask Miss M, "Where is Mama's ring?  Honey, where is Mama's ring?  Show me where Mama's wring is!" My tone may or may not have been sweet.  Miss M just kept pointing to my other ring saying, "No, no, no."  She so knows she wasn't supposed to move that ring.

After finding the ring on the floor in the guest bedroom closet, my zeal for a presentable experience was entirely lost and I settled for a hat, some mascara, and my Rocket Dogs.

We made it to the park for an hour long walk smelling the flowers...

and checking out the fountain.

I was still frazzled from the morning ring finding fiasco so I'm afraid I wasn't quite the playmate I might normally have been.

And then neighbor friend came over for a lunch of champions - grilled cheese or leftovers.  We've reached that level, she and I, so I was okay with my lack of options for her.  And even with my dirty kitchen upon her arrival.

Does she look fun or what?  And let's just admire the chubby cheeks of Miss Magnificent while we're at it!

Miss M peaced out for some shut eye and LA and I went to hashin' out the world's problems.  I accomplished zero of my tasks for the day.  But over hot tea and a few tears, we worked through some things.  Did a little word vomiting.  A little soul searching.  Down and dirty style.  In the end, through the help of LA and my Mama, God has once again made it clear that I am over committed.  That I've gotten myself all tangled up in the "have to's."  In my Mama's words, I haven't left myself time just to sit at the feet of Jesus.

I don't know why I have an insatiable need to say, "Sure, I can do that!"  Turns out I can't.  So I'm re-evaluating.  Looking at some things I can cut out.  Because I could really use a little of this in my soul...

Photo by Tony Allen-Mills

Thanks, LA.  You rock my socks off...always in the most unexpected ways.

We wrapped it all up with leftover red beans and rice courtesy of the Nana

 and some Bolt action,

 both of which we thoroughly enjoyed.  

In our still dirty house.  Dirty is relative anyway, right?

Just one more reason Anne and I are kindred spirits...

"I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage."  -Anne of Green Gables 

I am choosing colors for Miss Magnificent's big girl room.  And furniture.  And our grown-up bedroom.  And I have all these paint samples taped to the wall so that I can look at them every time I pass by and think, "Yes, I think I would be happy to look at that every day."    The tricky part for me, though, is that words have always mattered.  At LEAST every bit as much as everything else matters.  And the names of the paint samples always matter!  

Por ehemplo [that's Spanglish for "for example"]...

My dining room is Perfect Taupe.  I coulda gone with Porpoise or Muddy Creek because they were awfully darn close to Perfect Taupe but really, who wants a Porpoise dining room?  Same story for my Vintage Mauve study.  I like to think of the study as my space [sorry Hunk] and what isn't inspiring and creative-ish about Vintage Mauve?  I don't really even think the color matches the name...it's a little more purple-y than mauve-y, but you get the idea.

So now I have narrowed Adelle's room color choice down to two:  Aqua Breeze or Country Mist.  And I may possibly like the color of Aqua Breeze a little better.  But I'm pretty sure I'll end up going with Country Mist.  Get ready to roll your eyes dramatically when I tell you why...I like to think of myself as a small town, country type of gal.  There's something so perfectly delicious about a Country Mist.  I can see it falling across the rolling hills of a beautiful farm - refreshing the wildflowers with its pretty blue, transparenty self.  

See it in the background?  Ahhhh...doesn't that sound perfect?  

The name Aqua Breeze makes me think of Lisa Frank's dolphins.

FYI:  I'm pretty sure eight year old me wrote many-a letter on this rock your socks of stationery!

For an extra laugh I would like you all to know that I almost typed "Ann" in place of "Lisa".  I'm pretty sure Anne Frank didn't do a lot with dolphins.

Now you KNOW that I'm crazier than you.

The way you move ain't fair, you know...

I feel like you all should know that immediately after the saggy spirit sob story, I retrieved Miss Magnificent from her bed and, like any good mama, put Dora on for her.  It's our evening routine - don't judge.  I got some bacon-a-poppin' for an impending dinner disaster that I totally saw coming but optimistically proceeded with anyway.  In an effort to put a little pep in my step, I pulled out a Dr. Pepper and danced wildly to the following song approximately five times in a row:

*Please ignore the Progressive ad beforehand.  This is the only Youtube video I could find...I'm no Youtube professional.

I am SO into this song right now.  I've loved Train since high school but this one has just recently put a bug in my brithces and I CANNOT get enough!  After the dinner disaster made up of Jiffy, apples, bacon, and brie...I kid you not...that even The Hunk could not eat, I was feeling blue.  Again.  So, during clean up - you guessed it - I blared this bad boy again.  This time all three of us and our crazy selves danced shamelessly to all 3 minutes and 37 seconds.  My heart was so full I thought it might bust.

And for the record, I'm TO-tally lovin' the video, too!

Hope this lifts your saggy spirits...and I promise to use that word less from here on out.

The Overbearing Older Sister

Picture by Molly Townsend

There is a creative energy build up within my Type A self.  I need to paint or write a little something full of flowery words or make my house look pretty[er].  It has never occured to me, maybe not until this very second, that creativity = stress relief for me.  Intentional creativity allows me to release the right side of my brain from the confines that the left side has very strategically placed around it. 

You know, like when you slept with your sister as a kid and the overbearing older sister would draw a line down the middle of the bed using her finger as a utensil and the sheets as an impressionable canvas.  But she would draw it so that she had much more room than the little sister - because she was overbearing and inconsiderate like that. 

Oh wait, I WAS the older sister.  There's some sort of birth order revelation to be found there.

Already it's happening...Type A me is infringing on happy, creative me.  It's a constant battle in situations like these - where there are important decisions to be made and homes to be looked at and furniture to be scowered. 

And now it's gone - the desire to be creative has been replaced by the desire to cross things off the list.

Notsogood for my stress level.

I'll let you know.

My (Currently) Unwrappable Tuesday

So, today is Tuesday.  And originally I had planned to unwrap some goodness within this bad boy. 

But then I found myself standing in my one year old's room at 2 a.m.  And then I woke up and realized it was because she was screaming hysterically.  After some cuddle time with the Daddy and Mama, she allowed herself to be consoled and re-night nighted. 

And then I didn't sleep well because she's outgrown her snuggle sleeper and all of her footy pajamas are dirty and she pulls her socks off and she never stays neatly tucked beneath the warm blanket.  Ever. 

And then it was 6:30 and my alarm was screaming at me to wake up and spend some time with Him in Ruth's world.  At 6:50 I obeyed. 

At 7 a.m. with coffee prepared and Bible open, the faint stirrings of one wide eyed rejector of the covers blarred through the baby monitor.  I ignored them and half-heartedly moved through the third to last day of what has proven to be a life changing study for me.

7:30 a.m. - The stirrer was retrieved from her crib cage and placed [lovingly] on the floor while I prepared her milk.  This was unacceptable and the consequences of my 12 hour a nighter's interrupted sleep began to rear their ugly heads.  A fit and the sippy cup were thrown...while I dutifully pulled homemade waffle ingredients out and placed them on the one bare spot on my counter.  THIS is why you should always stay up late to clean up the kitchen if you must.  Because waking up to a dirty kitchen is a sure fire way to get yourself a not so unwrappable Tuesday. 

At 7:40, I attempted to appease the angry, albeit adorable, one year old with banana slices.  When I turned around, she was throwing them to Belle the dog.  When I told her not to throw them down, she furrowed her brow, rubbed her hands together violently, and screamed.  I ignored her.

At 7:45, the first batch of waffles was ready.  The carb lover ate them happily, entirely untempted to share any with Belle the dog. 

At 8 a.m. the kitchen was [mostly] clean, the stinker was [semi]entertained by a movie, and I headed back to the computer for my morning check of the email and the favorite blogs.  And I agreed wholeheartedly with The Nester while lamenting the patience needed in my endeavor to make this house our next house.  And desperately wondering how I can get it to smell like us and not like it did the first day we walked in it - which I hated then and I hate now.  And felt grateful for this gal's honesty.  And we said goodbye to The Hunk while one no longer entertained grumpy pants stood on my lap and screamed in my ear.  He, of course, did not get to leave until he heard all about the causes of my grumpiness.  The cleaning that must take place today.  The overwhelming desire to be that woman I saw in Publix yesterday...with her pretty dress, high heels, perfectly cut and highlighted hair...instead of my own not gonna take a shower until late afternoon self. 

And then, approximately 5 minutes ago, while I was typing one of those sentences a few lines up, The Hunk called because we have an inspector of some sort coming to the house in about an hour.  This caused a "What the crap?!" to fly from my lips and land on the innocent ear of the same sweet husband who after listening to my whining and before leaving the house said, "You are a good wife and mama.  I love you."

After explaining that I wasn't mad at him, just mad in general, I came back to wrap this post up.  So I can start washing clothes that will be dirtied again very soon.  And cleaning bathrooms that will need it again tomorrow.  And vaccuming carpet that is so stained you can never actually tell when it's been cleaned.  All while trying to pacify a very grumpy walking machine.

I'm just sayin' that as of 8:36 a.m, this Tuesday is not lookin' like it was meant to be unwrapped.  I promise to look for unwrappable moments, and I'll let you know if any pop up.  For now, though, I just thought the rest of the blogging world might like to know that occasionally I want to wrap my Tuesday right back up and return it to the giver.  And that really is the point, right?  To look for the surpise of the good amidst the frustration of the mundane. 

And look I will.  I promise.

The Rightness of Unbearability

It was nothing exceptional or out of the ordinary.  Just a sweet message from a dear friend that echoed the aches of my soul.  And suddenly they were there - the tears that I've been forcefully holding at bay all week long.  With Little Bear and Emily chatting in the background will Miss Magnificent squealed and hooted, completely oblivious to my throbbing spirit, I just let the tears flow right into the ugly cry. 

Some days the loneliness, the maintenance of strength, the acceptance of a life that I never imagined for myself, the ransom of my husband for the sake of ministry - it all feels unbearable. 

But then, many times on those same days, the excitement of walking closer with Jesus, the determination to move forward, the fostering of sweet new friendships, the evolution of my husband into the man God created him to be - it all feels right.

And I eagerly grasped another corner of the truth found in weeping forward - the coexistence of joy and ache within me - the sometimes very rightness of unbearability in my life.  And unexpectedly - a smile broke through the hard lines of the ugly cry - creating an admittedly akward but deeply honest depiction of this crazy woman.

Letters from Emily

Dear {City I Live In} Housing Market,

You suck.

Love,
Emily


Dear Midwest America,

There is something I should tell you.  Two years ago - heck, a few months ago - I would have said, "No I will NOT live in you!  I am a SUH-THURN girl.  The South will rise again [totally just kidding about this.  I like America as it is - geographically speaking]!"  But you have changed my mind with your modest opinions about real estate and your four season having and your Meet Me In St. Louis-ness.  I have no idea what the people are like there, but I am slowly learning that people are just people.

Oh, and FPFG contributed to my new found consideration of you in regards to somewhere I would consider living...because she lives in the Midwest and she is funny and quirky.

I'm sorry I never gave you a chance before.  Maybe someday I will get to, at the very least, visit you.

Love,
Emily


Dear Popcorn,

You always give me indegestion but I eat you anyway because you are gooood.  Before long you will not be around to receive this letter.  Sorry, friend.

Love,
Emily


Dear Friend and Family-Sickness,

Go away.  You are making me feel grumpy.  And eat far too much popcorn.  Which will give me indegestion.  And then I will feel even more grumpy.  Cool.

Love,
Emily


Dear Realtor.com,

You make me wish for things I cannot have right now.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to end our relationship.

It's not you, it's me.  Really.

Love,
Emily


Dear Belle the Dog,

If you do not get outta my space while I'm trying to eat my popcorn I am going to smack you.

And by smack I mean give you a bite of my popcorn because I feel guilty for not playing with you anymore.

Love,
Emily


Dear Reader,

This is what happens when I am left alone with my thoughts all day.  Are you crazy, too?

Love,
Emily