Not Reciprocated

 I want to call my dad.

Hear his laugh and tell him of all he's missed.

Of all he's missing. 

What makes the heart want those who don't want you back?

Survival

 Survival.

That's my word for 2019. It wasn't a word given to me at the beginning of the year, but rather realized after its completion. For that in hindsight, I am grateful. I now see why truth and wisdom are sometimes delayed. Tragedy struck the year with vengeance. It grabbed the nape of my neck with a white-clenched fist and wouldn't let go. Tension headaches and shallow breaths were my friends. Organization and productivity became the cushions for existing. Crossing off the to-do list made me feel like a person accomplishing things instead of a wave-tossed ship. And that's what I was - a ship still floating, but battered and broken; still achieving the goal of staying on top of the water, but barely. After all, my plate was full - IS full of good things.

I used to write. I used to love to write. It used to make my soul come alive. Then the electric zing became an annoying buzz; a fly I couldn't swat away. Pressure. Pressure to fill pages, to get more views, to create interaction. Slowly the words were replaced with grocery lists and "I'm sorry's" in pages of my journal. I'm sorry for not thriving, for yelling, for not doing this or that, for not being enough. 

I'm sorry for being me.

The end of 2019 was a gift slowly opening. It was pristine paper in perfect lines, a gentle nudging to keep peeling back the layers. I hear Him whisper, "Write what you want to read."

Intentional. 

This was the word I felt was given to me for 2020.

I didn't know that this word would be the sticky tack that held my feet to the ground. While 2020 is not yet over, I feel as though a hundred lifetimes have passed. No one could have imagined the toll that this year would take. Yet, in hindsight, I felt slightly prepared - a gift I'm sure from someone who loves me. I have clung to this idea of being intentional through all of the upheaval. Body, mind, spirit - intentionally creating space to breathe, grow, and be. 

There is a deep rooted confidence that good times are coming. I don't know about you, but I want my eyes open to see.

We are in the home stretch, sort of.

"Asking for and receiving help is a way to prime the pump of generosity.” -Jay Perry

We are in the home stretch, but still have a couple openings if you would like to help out. 

Here is the mealtrain:

https://mealtrain.com/7wqzd2

Here is the spreadsheet to help with the girls:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1PZ2p34JaEpbLI3IYy2GTMrGFNXx1n60fP1AKJ_ffHWg/edit#gid=0

Asking for help is hard. It's not something I enjoy at all. I'd rather just handle what needs to be done and not bother anyone. This season has been full of challenges - physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. But God is so good. He takes what the enemy means for evil and turns it into beauty. He transforms ashes to glory.

People are asking, "How's bedrest?". The short answer: good. The longer answer: this blog post. 

My long answer is still good, by the way. I can't complain. I have an incredible community surrounding me and helping me take care of the girls. My husband is a real life superhero who has taken care of the girls, me, and the house all while doing his normal responsibilities. My aunt has come into town and will be coming back into town to help with the girls to give my friends and husband a little break. I am blessed beyond measure. 

For those of you who want to actually know what is going on physically, I will share. My back muscles are spazzing, which the only cure for is not sitting so much and not being pregnant anymore. So I can't really do much about that. I have intense round ligament pain that makes getting up and down, showering, and rolling over in bed difficult tasks. Heartburn is out of control, and I'm starting to get nauseated again like the first trimester. Fun. I get out of breath walking from room to room, and it's getting harder to hold Beau. I'm not supposed to be holding her right now anyway, but even the smallest amount of holding her and I'm hurting and breathing heavy. I'm honestly a little nervous about recovering from a csection after being on bedrest. I'm so weak physically which I'm not really used to. It will just be another humbling part of this journey, I'm sure.

One quick update: we did go back to the hospital last week. I was having contractions for 4 hours that were consistently 2-4 minutes apart. I hadn't progressed, and they were able to get them to stop, so we got to go home the same day we came in. Thankfully. We are hoping and praying for no more hospital visits until I actually get to take my little boy home!  

My physical state might be declining with this pregnancy and bedrest, but my heart is so full. I just have to last 3 more weeks on bedrest. I can do that. Then just 3 more weeks after that until I meet my boy, unless he comes early. Then I will be recovering from a csection, but I will have the sweetest little snuggle buddy, that I won't mind much. There is so much to look forward to. 

Thank you so everyone who has signed up to help with meals, and the girls. Some of you have even helped clean my house which has been such a blessing!

Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for supporting my family while we keep this little one cooking as long as possible. I'm eternally grateful. 

Three Weeks of Bedrest

Almost 3 weeks of bedrest. That's crazy to think that it has been that long, and that short. 

Week one, Jacob was home from work and basically cleaned our entire house. He is a servant, a leader, and totally gorgeous pushing a vacuum and taking care of our girls. That week was mere preparation for my Aunt to come in town the following week. Good thing I had nested so early before, because I had a guest room ready for her. One less thing that Jacob had to take care of. 

Week two, my completely selfless, beautiful, loving Aunt came in to town to help. When I say Aunt, I want you to hear "Mom". She raised me. She is Mom, but technically, Aunt. The first day that she was here, when Jacob went back to work, I had a little bit of an emotional breakdown. Beau didn't understand what was happening with so much change all at one time. She cried and cried most of the day when I couldn't do much for her. Then when she crawled in her highchair for a snack, she looked up at me with her deep brown eyes and said, "momma. hi." in the sweetest little voice like she hadn't seen me all day.  

That's when I lost it. The tears came, and honestly, I had a hard time stopping them. I realized how much I had missed her. Missed our quality time together. Please don't take it as me being ungrateful for help. My Aunt is a saint, and I loved every minute of her being here. I just missed my time with the girls. Everything was different, and was going to be different for a while. Maybe a good cry is just what I needed. 

This is when I felt the crossroads. I had a decision to make. The next several weeks could be really hard. They could be boring, stressful, and full of missed opportunities. 

Or. 

I could look for the "hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that [I] may know that [He is]  the Lord, the God of Israel, who summons [me] by name." Isaiah 45: 3

So that's what I decided for week three of bedrest. Now I'm on a quest. A search. A journey of seeking out His face that I know lingers in the stillness. The only thing is that the stillness is surrounded by chaos. It's like a deep rooted tree that I'm trying to walk towards during the middle of a hurricane. 

People make comments, the internet assumes, and honestly I assumed as well that I would have so much time to read my Bible, listen to audio books, and a plethora of other calming activities. "Rest while you can!" they say. This is not the case. It looks like relying on a lot of people to do things that I normally do. While I just sit. It looks like getting winded from just walking to the bathroom. It looks like desperately wanting to take the girls for a walk, but settling with sitting outside in a lawn chair while the girls run around. It looks like having contractions from sitting up to try to help fold laundry. It looks like weekly doctor appointments and taking all measures to make sure that this boy stays in me as long as possible. It looks like taking medicine that makes me feel so crummy - enough side effects that make having a premature baby sound not so bad. It looks like every minute that I would normally have had for free time to read books and whatnot, is just more intentional time with Beau making sure that she is occupied and not getting in to things in the house, or time with Ry doing school. I've been referring to it as "Project tire Beau out". It looks like people coming over to help entertain the girls and keep them busy because I can't.

And boy am I glad that I have those other people! They are all angels! How did I get so blessed? We have people bringing us meals and people signed up to come help chase Beau around in the mornings so that I can just have them in the afternoons before Jacob gets home from work. This is the church. The picture of the body of Christ laying down their life for another. I don't even know how to express my gratitude. 

Week three, you have had your challenges. 

I have had to balance the scales of mommy guilt and complete trust, of longing and contentment.

I've had to sort through the heart complexities of being still and feeling lazy, of missing out and being present.

I will continue to sort through it, expectantly looking for the treasures, and secrets, and growth, and opportunities. 

Ridiculous 24 Hours

Wow. Did you miss me? My last post was in December of 2017. I didn't lose the desire or even the amount of content to write, I just let busyness get in the way. But this, I want to remember, so you get to read about it too if you like.

Tuesday, March 12th, 2019.
I am married to a wonderful, talented, handsome, smart, hilarious, sarcastic, hard-working man, Jacob.
I have a creative, assertive, prophetic, sensitive, fierce, witty, beautiful 7 year old girl, my Ryot Sweetness.
I have a wise, intelligent, contagious, joyful, charming, brave, beautiful 21 month old girl, Beau baby.
I am 27 weeks and 4 days pregnant with my first boy, who so far has been kind to his momma this pregnancy and moves a ton. My free little king, Jett Ryan.
And of course the best dog in the world, Gracie girl, our blue heeler.

I had finished one conference call for work, and was wrapping up the next action steps on my second conference call of the day. Beau has woken up for her nap and joined me with a snack and a show so that I can finish up my call. Keeping her somewhat quiet, opening the snack, turning down the tv, while trying to figure out IT issues with a document I have to upload every month - this is a usual Tuesday for this working mom. Actually, abnormally, my Sweetness wasn't even there because it's spring break. So I had a rare opportunity to spend just quality time with my little one. This doesn't happen often, and I was really looking forward to this week.

Like a physical comedy scene from a television show, the chaos began. We have this iRobot vacuum named Rosie. I think buying her was with good intentions, but she doesn't really do a good job. Every day she turns on at 4pm and it's more work for me to get her unstuck from all of the places not Rosie-proof in our home. Then I still vacuum. See the problem here? Well, ding, 4:00pm. She turns on while I'm on my conference call. My phone hadn't been working so I couldn't pull up the app to turn her off, but she was loud so she needed to be silenced. I ask my IT guy to wait for a second and quickly go to stand on my left foot to reach Rosie. What I didn't realize is that by sitting on my left foot for the conference call, it had fallen completely asleep. Not the annoying tingling sleep. Not the dozing off but still feeling asleep. The my body didn't even recognize that my foot was still attached to my leg kind of dead, numb asleep. As soon as I put any weight on that left foot, my ankle rolled out from under me. Desperately trying to catch myself, my right foot flung to stabilize me only to trip on a Little People house that Beau baby had been playing with earlier before nap. This trip flung me backwards where I landed on my elbow, bum, and then hit the back of my head on the brick fireplace.

Here is a picture of the crime scene:

Woah. What just happened. I hear Beau baby saying 'you ok?" over and over as well as my IT guy asking if I was ok. I didn't shout out or anything, but I'm sure he heard the commotion of me tripping over things. I told him that I was ok, I had just tripped and to give me one more second. I was able to sit up by my computer, reassure Beau baby that I was ok, and finish up the conversation of next steps for my conference call. Ok. Done.

I checked the back of my head. No blood.
I put my ankles on the floor in front of me to watch for swelling. I hadn't heard any pop and was in pain, but not unbearable pain. Good.
I had one hand on my belly feeling Jett move, and the other around Beau who was continuously asking me, "you ok?". The sweetest little love.
I reassured her I was ok and we laughed how mommy fell down, but I was going to get back up because I'm a "big girl". Desperately trying to get that 'big girl' and 'big sister' language thrown in there any chance I can so that she is more prepared for her little brother. She 'helped' me stand up and I tried to put pressure on my ankle. Not great, but not 10 out of 10.

I grabbed my computer to send Jacob an email to let him know what was going on around 4:10pm. Why not use my phone to call him? Good question. It wasn't working. Ugh. That's a whole other post of the hilarity of my pregnancy brain. We'll save it for a different day. Email sent, I hobbled with Beau baby to the car to head to the karate school to pick up Sweetness and use their phones. Shocking, I know, my dr wanted me to go to the hospital. Jacob had actually just gotten home when I was at the karate school and had read my email when I called him. Then my saint of a mother in law offered to watch the girls so that we could go to the hospital to get monitored. Thinking we would be home by bedtime, we headed home so my MIL could watch the girls and I could ride with Jacob to the hospital.

Once we arrived at Labor and Delivery, they actually sent us to the ER first to check out my head and ankle. One of the nurses said, "it doesn't matter if baby is ok if momma isn't ok. We can send someone down to the ER to monitor your baby, but we can't check out your head and ankle up here." So back down to the crowded, sick ER we went. At this point, I was so grateful that I didn't have the girls around all of the sickness, and I just prayed that God would protect us.

My hilarious, ornery, handsome husband kept me laughing. We updated family, and just waited. In our season of baby-raising, we don't get much time to just sit and talk as adults. The circumstances weren't ideal, but I really enjoyed my one on one time with him. (Can you tell quality time is my top love language?)  We didn't actually wait there very long before they took us to a room to check out my head and ankle. No concussion, marks, or bleeding on my head, and they did an xray on the ankle. Then we were wheeled to another well waiting area where we sat forever. I think my tail bone started to fuse with the wheelchair and my stomach started eating itself I'm sure. We were so hungry and pretty tired of waiting, but they were so packed. Everyone was so nice and apologized every time they called us to a new room. I knew they were busy.

We finally received the results of the xray - just a sprain. Good news. By this time, it was around 9pm and we were finally headed up to Labor and Delivery to get checked out. We were led to a ginormous room and thus started the process. Several different nurses and doctors asking what happened. By this time I had told my ridiculous story probably 7 times to different nurses and doctors. We all laughed and one dr reminded me jokingly that I was only supposed to have 1 glass of wine, while others questioned if Jacob pushed me or if he was there when it happened. A little comical, a little serious inquiry, a lot of embarrassment. I just felt ridiculous. All of the nurses were so gracious, kind, and wonderful.

We monitored the baby and realized that I was having pretty steady contractions every 2-3 minutes. I could feel them but they weren't painful. Then it clicked. Seeing the contractions on the screen and feeling the uncomfortable pressure at the same time reminded me that I have been having these feelings for a while now. I just didn't know they were contractions because it's so early and they are still pretty weak. They weren't painful, so I just chalked them up to normal pregnancy pain, or Jett stretching, or maybe needing to pee for the 149th time that day. Now I realized that I had been having contractions all along. This was a little scary. I didn't have time to be that worried because then came the onslaught of questions, and figuring out what the drs wanted me to do.

I apparently have tiny, fragile veins. There is nothing else on me or about me that has ever been described as tiny and fragile. I guess I take after my Granny in this way, as she says we are "hard to stick". My amazing, giving, selfless, beautiful, hard-working friend Cassie actually came in to work Tuesday night for a little bit and my what a relief that is. It's so nice seeing a familiar face even if she did tease me for being "THAT patient" that is difficult to stick. Never underestimate a friendly face and comic relief in the midst of chaos. Priceless. Thank you, Cassie.

My tiny, fragile vein that finally worked:

One nurse tried twice in two different spots, another nurse tried once in a different spot, and then they called in the anesthesiologist. She tried once in a spot that wouldn't take, and then said that if she couldn't get the next one to stick, she had to get an ultrasound machine to try to find a vein that would work. On the 5th try, they successfully stuck me on the top of my left wrist. Super painful, but it worked.

At first the decision was to just monitor for a bit and send us home. The contractions staying steady changed that plan. By 1am, they decided to keep me for 48 hours for steroid shots, magnesium drip, and fluids to try to get the contractions to stop. Magnesium did nothing through the night, which was super. Jett was moving a ton, so the nurse kept coming in to adjust the monitor. In addition to the constant beeping, blood pressure cuff going off every 30 minutes, and a couple other uncomfortable medical things, no sleep was had for me.

However, next day my awesome Mother in Law transferred my kiddos to my amazing sister to watch, and then my dr switched me to the oral meds and my contractions actually started responding! By lunch time I was down to nearly no contractions, so my dr made a plan and let me go. What a relief to have a plan and be able to execute it at home! And what a relief to have people gather around and love on my girls. Jacob and I felt so loved, for sure.

So now, I am going to continue taking oral meds, and be on bedrest from now until 36 weeks with the hope of the contractions going away until its safe for little boy to come. When we stop the meds at 36 weeks, if I go into labor, then we will just have a baby. Bedrest looks like the couch or the bed except to eat, shower, and use the restroom. Toddlers don't exactly sit still much, and I am already battling a little mommy guilt over the things I won't be able to do with Ry and Beau that we normally do.

But if you are still with me this far along - first, congrats - but second, hear this:
I am not worried. My God is not surprised by this twist in the road for us. He is the most trustworthy, kind, loving, Abba Father. He is in control and has all the power to keep this little boy healthy and growing until he joins our family.

Also, I have had so many people reach out to offer help. I'm not sure what the next 9 weeks will look like on bedrest, but I don't have to know the next 9 weeks. I know this week, my servant-hearted husband is taking off work, and next week my selfless Aunt is coming in town for a week to help prepare for Jett in case he comes early. The next week and a half I feel confident that I can figure out what holes/needs I have for our family to function, and I know that God will provide.

In the meantime, we will read some great books, watch some good movies, listen to a lot of music, and snuggle a ton. We will figure all of it out.

The best way to describe it is that I feel the "peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [my] hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus". Philippians 4:7

Eucatastrophe

"Saul did nothing to earn God's favor. Instead, he was on his way to hunt and kill people who believed in God, but still God chose him. (Acts 9:15) Why? It was only because of the grace of God. There is none of us who is too far gone from the love of God. His love and grace can change any heart." 

As I was writing this in my notes from the sermon that Sunday, God brought someone to mind. Someone who, in my flesh, deserves nothing. Someone I have had to choose to forgive multiple times and give my wounded heart to God to mend. I wrote their name in the margin by those words above. In that moment, I broke. God sent Ananias to meet Saul and give him a message from God. It's not that I think I am the Ananias for this person. I just received a glimpse of God's heart and felt a strange mixture of irritation and compassion, no doubt my human nature wrestling with the truth as it often does.

Immediately following this burst of the Father's love for this person I wrote, "I deserve nothing. But God gives me himself." I deserve NOTHING. This person deserves nothing. It doesn't matter what each of us did or didn't do. We are all sinners saved by grace. We are all broken in need of a Savior. 

From my notes: "It is the grace of God to expose the things in our life that are creating a barrier between us and God. He wants to set us free! He wants intimacy." God exposes sin, bitterness, and pain so that He can heal us. This was an opportunity for me to dive deeper with Him and allow healing. This was a Eucatastrohpe. 

Eucatastrophe - The sudden in-breaking of something good.

We get to experience this in our own lives, as well as help others experience this in theirs. I don't know all of the workings of God's plan. He had a grand plan for Saul who, before becoming Paul, was an awful man. God's grand plan always includes giving you a huge dose of love. With that overflow, you might also have fresh eyes of possibility for the person that you least expect.

He is in control. We don't have to be. Thank you, Jesus.

Beau's birth story

Wednesday, May 31, 2017 - Beau Nicole Garza

For about 2 weeks, I had contractions. They were uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
On the 31st, Ryot woke me up and we carried out the normal school morning routine. After she was on the bus, I had some time with Jacob before my doctor appointment. The majority of previous appointments had been afternoon appointments. This one, being in the morning, allowed Jacob to stay home. It was nice to get some time with him before our hectic day.

We went in for my last check up with my doctor before my scheduled c section two days later on June 2nd. They asked me how the baby was moving and I told them that she hadn't been moving around as much. I figured it was because I was having contractions or because she was running out of room. Just to be safe, Dr. Klein sent us to the perinatal assessment center at the hospital to check on her. They hooked me up to the monitors, and I was having contractions every 2-4 minutes. We asked her about what she thought was happening. She explained that I definitely was in labor, but they weren't sure if it was early labor or late labor. If it was early labor, then I would go home, however, if it was late labor, I would be having the baby that day! The nurse checked me, but I was only at 1 cm. The nurse said that she would check me again in an hour, then I was sent for an ultrasound to see how everything looked with our little girl. She looked great and there were no concerns at this point, which was a huge relief!

When I got back to the assessment center, the nurse decided to check me even though it hadn't been an hour yet. To all of our surprise, I was already at 3 cm! She said that she was pretty sure we were going to have the baby today but my doctor needed to make that call. A few minutes later another nurse brought a gown and an IV bag. She mentioned something about having a baby but we told her that we hadn't actually been told that yet. I said that we had been eavesdropping, but no one had officially confirmed it. She looked caught off guard and went to get the other nurse who said we were definitely having the baby that day. Only 10 minutes go by from the time that the nurse checked me until Dr. Klein pokes his head in the door and says, "Are you ready for a birthday party?". We had already been texting family what was going on, so now we got to tell them it was baby time!

I had progressed very quickly so they were rushing to get everything done before I progressed any further. Both of our phones were dying, and everything was happening 2 days early so we weren't prepared at all. As the nurses were rushing around, we were sort of rushing as well. Jacob had to make arrangements at work and we had to figure out who was going to pick Ryot up from the bus. We were in the truck, so we didn't have the car seat, and we didn't have the hospital bags or arrangements for our dog. We both had a lot scheduled for that day and so we had to move things around all while still getting ready for the csection. I had a prenatal massage scheduled for late that day that while I was being wheeled to a different floor, I told Jacob that we needed to call them and cancel it!

We got to the other floor to get ready for the c section. Jacob put on his outfit while I was taken to the OR to start the epidural. This is the point that I got a little nervous. I don't like needles, and Jacob couldn't be in there with me, so I'm so grateful for my nurse, Sharon, who grabbed me and told me to hold on tight to her so that I could get through it. I'm sure she just wanted me bent a certain way to get the right angle for the epidural, but it was still comforting to have someone to hold on to. I got the epidural and then Jacob joined my side. One hand on my forehead and the other hand holding mine, I was so thankful to have him there. One of the nurses told me that they just pinched me really hard with one of the tools and I obviously didn't feel it so we were ready to go. They started the csection and before we knew it, we heard her little cries! I got to have her on my chest for a good little bit while they finished closing me up. While he was putting in the final staples, Dr. Klein asked us, "Ok, so when do we get to do this again?" Without missing a beat, Jacob responded, "9 months, 6 weeks?" Dr. Klein and the other surgeon laughed and said that was the best response yet. I told them that we would only be doing that if Jacob was the one delivering. Too soon, guys, too soon.

The whole day when by very fast.
9:20am Dr. appt
11:30am checked at the perinatal assessment center at 1cm.
12:16pm finished with the ultrasound and checked again at 3cm. We texted family it was baby time!
1:46pm Beau's time of birth!

We are so grateful for all of the doctors and nurses who helped us at Clear Lake Regional Medical Center. If I get the chance again to go through this experience, we will definitely be coming back!

Of course, we are just smitten with our little miracle baby. She is perfect.

Beau Nicole Garza
7lb 5oz
19in
Born 5/31/2017 at 1:46pm

Five Minute Fridays! Root Beer Mix Up

Five Minute Fridays - Write for 5 straight minutes whatever is on your mind with no surplus of time spent editing or proof reading. 5 Minutes is the minimum, max is up to you and your creative juices.

Ready, set, go!

It's been a long time since I have sat down to write. Every time that I do, I feel the obligation to explain why I have been gone. If I do go down that road, it will be another time. First, I am reminded that I owe an explanation to no one. However, second, it would be a task to unpack all that happens in this brain of mine.

So for now, I will tell you a story. I have had a nasty stomach bug since Sunday night. No pregnant woman should ever have to deal with a stomach bug. It was awful and very untimely. Thankfully, I started to feel more human yesterday. This was good timing because I had a couple work meetings that needed to happen this week.

Being the first day out of the house and running errands, I was beat by the end of the day. My stomach still a little queasy, I stopped by HEB on the way home from my meetings to get some reinforcements. Ritz Crackers, bananas, Gatorade, 7Up to name a few items on the belt, it was clear that I was buying for someone that didn't feel good. The only thing that looked like it didn't belong was some Saint Arnold's root beer that my husband, and myself when I'm not sick, loves. As I waited in the line, I leaned on the cart with my head in my hands taking deep breaths and praying for my stomach to settle.

"How are you today?" a smiley, bright-eyed cashier greeted me. I answered politely and survived his small talk as he was ringing the items up and sliding them down the belt. As I paid for my purchases, he started bagging some of the items.

"Are you sure you're old enough for this stuff?" he asks as he bags the root beer.
A little shocked and confused, I laughed and replied, "I'm 27, so yes, I can buy alcohol, but that is definitely root beer."
"Oh" was all he could muster as he looked back and forth between me and the root beer double checking that it was indeed root beer.
Then I added with a grin, "Plus, I'm pregnant so I'm not going to be drinking beer right now anyway."
He smiled a little and responded, "Oh, so you're sticking to the light stuff, huh?"
I laughed but couldn't make eye contact at this point because I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He laughed again and said, "Have a nice day." I returned the sentiment and waddled away with my groceries.

A couple thoughts on this interaction:

- I love people. I love that they are weird and sometimes socially awkward.
- I love that I am not easily offended. The whole conversation was hilarious to me, and I'm sure will be one to remember.
- The poor guy will probably pay closer attention to what he is ringing up from now on. But wait, was he really going to just sell me the alcohol when he wasn't sure that I was old enough? Did he think that that casual question would be enough to tell if I was old enough or not.
- Another question, Do I really look like I'm not 21? In business clothes, wearing my work name tag, wearing my wedding rings, pregnant? I'm not complaining. I am going to hang on to this baby face for as long as I can.
- God provides humor even when we feel crappy. And I love Him for it.

Embody the Crazy

This weekend I attended a conference called World Mandate. I couldn't unpack all of the truths and great conversations right now even if I tried. That will possibly be a different day, with clearer thoughts.

As we were getting out of the car tonight, Sweetness said, "I really hope I can just go in and go lay in bed because I'm really cold and tired." Same, child, same. That is exactly what she did. She was asleep before I said 'amen' in our prayers.

I went downstairs to do the same, after a couple adult-ish things like taking vitamins and such. I pulled my hair into a messy bun to brush my teeth. Right on the top of my head there was a short, wavy grey hair sticking out above the rest. To the right tucked back in the pony tail was a trail of grey and white hairs. I'm used to seeing them, and actually have a lot of grey hairs that tend to hide just under the top layer of my hair.

Recently I had a conversation with some friends who are older than me about grey hair. I told them that I love my grey hairs. Their response was that I loved them now but just wait a couple years, and continued with the different colors they have tried to dye their hair to hide greys.

Maybe in a few years I will hate my grey hairs. Maybe their unpredictable nature will irritate me and I will start dyeing my hair. I can't promise how I will feel at a later date. However, right now I love them. I love how they curl and stick out. I love how they hide just under the surface most of the time. I love how they have a spring in their nature that's unapologetic.

I hope with each passing year, my inhibitions become just like those grey hairs.
I hope that over the years my maturity and crazy levels rise at the same rate.

How great would that be? I would love to be the crazy grey haired lady that hides candy in her pocket and says what she means, in love of course. I am hardwired to be on the cautious and strategic side of things, which has served me well in several areas of my life. But I want to be wild.

I want to grow to embody the emotions of that crazy, curly, grey hair that stood tall out of my head above the rest.

Some of you will ask, why wait until you are old? I'm not. I'm exploring and learning and letting go every day. I just hope, in the end, that I arrive wild, free, uninhibited, light, and full of crazy ideas.

Beneath the Surface

As I was patiently waiting and watching people flow in and out of the cafe, I noticed that most had grimacing looks or technology glued to their faces. The lack of caffeine has that effect on most Americans. I placed my mobile order a little late and walked in earlier than when the drink was ready. I didn't mind. My phone was still in the car, so I had a couple minutes to scan the room and watch the barista work. 

The barista finished topping the drink with a beautiful design of froth. It's a simple joy, really, to enjoy the sight of something just as much as what it fulfills for you. The leaf on top of the froth didn't add to the flavor, in fact, getting a mouthful of just froth is jarring. But somehow, it made me more excited to enjoy my drink.

It was hiding under the surface. Only she knew it was there. Well, only she knew until I saw it. She was efficient and precise, and yet she took the perfect amount of extra time to add beauty to ordinary. How many times do we pass by the extraordinary to merely be productive? Don't get me wrong, I love a good list. I have different lists. Lists that are color coordinated on the fridge, in my planner, and on the back of the random Hobby Lobby receipt I found in my car. Getting things done is exhilarating for me, but merely taking crossing something off the list is not what we were created to do.

I want to be more like that barista. After she drew the beautiful design, she put the lid on it and called out my name not realizing I was standing there the whole time. She didn't make known the beauty she had created. Being a beauty creator is simply part of the person she is. What are we doing to tend to what's under the surface? I want to be known for creating beauty even in the mundane.

Beauty, breakthrough, and deeply rooted joy is available for you in all that you do today. You just need to tap into it.

The Drifters:Part 1

Drifting is all I've ever known. We wade in the water from raft to raft. My parents and my parent's parents were drifters. Just as the sun is so warm and inviting, the rain is refreshing and cool. The storms can be really hard to handle, but I was born into a good family who really bands together. Some families let their members drift away from the group and they get lost in the waves. But not my family. We link arms and close our eyes tight. My mom always said that our love of each other and our goodness towards others is what keeps us safe. That's all we need to do: keep drifting, share our food and resources with nearby drifters, and stay together. We will all survive if we stay on track. This is the only life I've ever known. The sea provides our food. There are dangers in the sea, but most of them we can be prepared to handle.

Drifting never bothered me until recently, and was actually quite traumatizing now that I'm telling you. Two friends, Aaron and Rachel, gone in the matter of a week. Aaron, sweet Aaron, just let go. He said that drifting was meaningless, that he didn't matter, and said it was better for everyone if he just let go. He struggled and sank below where we could reach him. And me, left, to do what? How do I even process this? How could he think this was better for everyone? I may never understand.

Maybe he did do the right thing, but Rachel? What is her excuse? She got caught up in the spell of this one Seeker. Seekers are so different from us and not widely welcomed in our communities. They live out of the water on this huge raft that they call a boat. It mostly stays away from our pack of drifters. Sometimes a strong current or bad storm would drift us closer together. Most of them looked over their boat and laughed at us or gave us dirty looks. One day, the cutest little boy dropped a toy in the water. I swam over to return it, but the way his parents looked at me clearly communicated that I was not welcome. Maybe I didn't look like them, or talk like them, but I am a good person. I didn't understand why she acted that way. We were different, but I didn't think that was a problem.

Sometimes Seekers would shout from the boat telling us to come join them. They would shout that it's better than the water. How could they possibly know what the water is like? They live on that boat. When storms would come, they hid in the boat or got worried that their precious toys would flow overboard. Really, most of the time they worried. Worried that their children would become drifters, worried that the boat would sink, worried that they wouldn't have enough stuff when they already had more stuff than any of us. Why would we want to get on the boat with a bunch of unhappy worriers? They never even tried to get to know us, they just wanted us to get on their boat. Did we have to be just like them for us to be friends? Our pack called them crazy, and I wasn't sure that they produced evidence to prove otherwise.

The Seeker that visited Rachel was so different. She was very pretty, and friendly, and our same age. I thought I was happy until I met her. She had a strange light about her. I wonder if it was because she was in a little boat away from the big boat of crazy, unhappy worriers. She used large sticks and rowed through the packs of drifters until she got to Rachel's pack. Rachel stopped her to ask her about her boat and what she was doing. After their conversation, Rachel swam to our pack and told me all about her. Her name was Hope and she grew up on the boat. Rachel was so interested about every detail of what the boat was like. Hope would visit Rachel often to talk to her, sometimes every day. She would sometimes bring Rachel gifts that to my delight would be shared with me after Hope left. I heard so many stories from Rachel about Hope and what it was like growing up on the boat.

Eventually, Rachel came to me and told me that we had to go on the boat. She tried to convince me that it was better than in the water. But how could she just leave her parents like that? How could she leave her little brother? Angry, I fought with her that she didn't have to go on the boat to be friends with Hope or to start living her life to be more like Hope if that is what she wanted. Rachel said it was the only way, and she left. She climbed on the small boat and was immediately given new clothes and was starting to dry off as she rowed away. I waved and cried, but it grew so quiet so quickly.

I haven't spoken to my parents much about how I feel because I know what they will say. They will call me ungrateful and ask, "what have the Seekers ever done for us?" I don't know the answer to that question. The Seekers were always were so far off until Hope met Rachel. I saw what it did to Rachel's parents and brother. They are barely hanging on to their raft. And now they have no one to take care of them when they get old. I don't want to leave my parents like that. Going on the boat was not an act of love. It was an act of abandonment. One, that I wanted no part in.

Storytime: Just a dent

They were watching the video and laughing uncontrollably. They were mumbling things and were sometimes disgusted. I had no idea what the video was about but from what I could gather it was highschool boy humor. I was still on the phone with a vendor sorting out invoicing issues so I was only half listening.

Driver said to coworker, 'oh man, Kayla's gotta see this.' To which coworker quickly responded, 'no, she doesn't want to see that kind of stuff.' They went back and forth for a while as the driver tried to convince the coworker that it would be funny to see my reaction. Coworker finally said, 'she's respectful and doesn't shove what she believes down our throats. So you need to be respectful too. She wouldn't like that video.' Driver called him a buzzkill and walked out. 

I tried not to smile since I wasn't supposed to be listening to the conversation. But this was a clear gift from God. I prayed earnestly for the people that I worked with. I prayed that I wouldn't get pulled into the vulgarity that often accompanies the oil industry. I prayed that I would somehow make an impact on the people around me. I prayed that they would see Jesus.

What a gift this was to me!
Sometimes, an impact is made that you can't see.
And of course, right when I felt like my efforts were just smashing against the rocks, I saw a glimpse of light on the shadow.

Everything you say either waters or withers the seed.
We can't know what's happening below the surface.
But God was so good to give me a glimpse that I was walking in the right direction.

Continue to be faithful to the people around you. Even when you think they aren't listening or don't care. God will work miracles and soften people's hearts if you are open to it.

The harvest is plentiful. We just have to continue laboring.
There are rewards. There is hope.
And this is the most important thing that you could possibly be doing.
Even if you only make a dent.

It just takes time.

I remember several years ago being in church and through tears singing, "you take my mourning and turn it into dancing, you take my sadness and turn it into joy". At the moment, I was singing a message I can't say that I really believed. But I desperately wanted to. After some time went by I could confidently say that He turned my mourning into dancing and my sadness into joy. He answered the prayer that I didn't even say out loud, even if it wasn't within my timetable.

Through every new step in my life, I have had to re-evaluate what that truth means to me. I asked myself questions like:

What does it look like?
How does it feel?
What does it mean to me personally?
How do I practically see that in my life?

If you haven't experienced tragedy then turning mourning into dancing will look different than it does after your friend dies, your sister gets cancer, or your grandma is in the hospital. At every stage, I fall back on what I know to be true. He is good. He is really good. He loves me. He is in control. He has already defeated death and sin. I just repeat it over and over until I believe it. And as I repeat it, I unpack a little more of God's character and my place with it all. Then I'm left with the responsibility of that knowledge which leads me to change my way of thinking, the way I talk, and what I do. The different depths of knowledge of victory over darkness should change the way we act every time we step deeper.

I can still confidently say that He is the good One who turns sadness into joy. It looks a little different than it did 10 years ago, of course, but as the pain has gotten deeper, the redemption has been deeper and the intimacy with Jesus sweeter.

They say time heals all wounds. I say time gives us some perspective so Jesus can step in and heal all our wounds.

Growing Pains

Feedback is always wanted.
Until you get it.
Then it's slightly dreaded, fretted over, analyzed, and processed.
Growth is desired, but growing pains not.

I'm learning.

But we don't always get what we want

I don't want to be picking out my outfit for tomorrow.
I don't want to dress up to be sad.
I don't want to never have another one of your hugs.
I don't want to never hear your laugh again.
I don't want to not be able to envy your cooking skills anymore.
I don't want to miss out on the beautiful children you would have had.
I don't want to never see your hilarious facial expressions again.
I don't want to miss you anymore.

But we don't always get what we want.

You are an extraordinary woman who deserves more words than my brain can function to form right now.

I miss you, Jess. I will miss you for the rest of the time I am here on this earth.

I know I will see you again, but it's not soon enough.

But again, we don't always get what we want.

Weekend Progress

We've moved!

A new house, the same town.
Closer to some friends and farther away from other friends.
More space, with not enough items to fill it.

We need a desk, make that two. We need to paint this, take that wallpaper down, buy frames, print pictures, build a table, buy furniture, hang paintings, etc. Does the list ever end?

If I can say one thing about this process is that I have loved seeing this side of my husband. In our apartment, there was a lot of sitting and not a lot of doing because we didn't have any of the space to do the doing or to put the doings after they were done. This house, however, has been put to use thoroughly and we've only been here one month. The garage has filled up with his tools, and the projects have been endless. I've seen a completely new side of him awaken. One that I knew was there, and was told numerous times was there, but had not personally witnessed. I love to see him work. I love to see him build, fix, and design things. I love to see him satisfactorily rub the sweat off of this forehead as he admires his work. It is satisfying for me to see him so in his element.

I love to see him happy, fulfilled, accomplished, tired from a good days work, satisfied.

And although I may not be a lot of help, I sure love to fill my love tank by spending quality time with him while he works!

Hopefully these types of weekends come often. They are my favorite!

Still Carrying It

Night time conversations are my favorite. Sure, sometimes, Sweetness is just stalling going to sleep. However, night time usually holds some of the most endearing moments of the day. Tonight was no different. As she was snuggling her blanket to her face, she casually said, 'Jesus is here but we can't hear him.' And a door that she has opened several times before was opened again. So instead of trying to use examples or explain it in a way that she could understand, I just decided we would ask him.

We closed our eyes, and she repeated after me to ask God to show Himself to her. When she opened her eyes she smiled.

Sweetness: I saw God with a big beard and he was handsome. And he was a king on a throne and he had a...a..jeweled thing.
Me: a crown?
Sweetness: No, a stick...with jewels on it.
Me: a staff?
Sweetness: Yeah, like Moses, but it had a lot of jewels on it. But I want to see Jesus too!

So we prayed that Jesus would show Himself to her.

Sweetness: I saw Jesus cut down trees. And it was the cross and He carried it. And He dies and three days later he rose to life again! And then when He went to heaven, He was still carrying the cross. He was carrying it forever for us.

Friend, Jesus is alive. He is still carrying the cross for us. He is still fighting for us. He is still reminding us that He took the burden off of us.

Whatever it is that is bothering you or weighing you down, lay it on the cross. I'm praying that as you read this, you will feel the weight lifted off of you. I'm praying that your mourning would turn to dancing, that your chaos would be still, and that you would experience the peace of God.

And that you would be able to close your eyes, see Jesus, and smile.

Write to Remember: God cares about what we have lost

The past couple of mornings, Ryot and I have been doing a YouVersion Devotional on Elisha. This morning in our quiet time, we read in 2 Kings 6:1-7. The story is a strange one. A group of prophets are building houses when one of the ax heads falls into the water. The prophet is distraught because it was a borrowed ax. Elisha then throws a stick in the water and causes the ax head to rise to the surface of the water.

It may seem like a random story, but the devotional goes on to point out that God cares about what we have lost. He cares about the details. Ryot and I talked about how God cares about when we lose tangible things and when we lose intangible things, like joy and peace.

Our conversation went like this:
Me: When was a time that you lost joy?
Ryot: ummm, Tuesday, I think.
Me: What happened on Tuesday?
Ryot: Maybe not on Tuesday, actually.
Me: Ok, so when was a time that you lost joy?
Ryot: In my dream
Me: Your dream last night? What was your dream about?
Ryot: Bad guys
Me: What did the bay guys do?
Ryot: They killed Jesus
Me: They killed Jesus in your dream last night?
Ryot: uhhuh, and that is not joy.
Me: No, you're right, it's not. What happened next?
Ryot: He rose to life again!
Me: In your dream?
Ryot: Yes!
Me: Yes, that is great joy!

We talked more about what that means, and how Jesus cares about our joy. He delights in giving us joy, and we have to fight the enemy and our selfish sin nature from taking it away from us.

I pray every night with Ryot that she would have sweet dreams that are pure, lovely, and from Jesus. I pray that she will see His face and know His voice. I pray that He will speak to her and fill her with His peace and love.

I did not give her enough credit when I asked the question. I was thinking about losing joy over not getting candy for breakfast, and she breaks out with the resurrection.
Don't underestimate the little children.
Don't think they don't know what you are talking about.

I write this to remember, and remind you that God cares about what you have lost. He is not idle.

Before we knew Him, God loved us so much that He sent His only Son to pay the penalty for our sin. Jesus came knowing the pain He would endure, and chose to die on the cross for us even when we did not choose Him. We sinned, and He paid the price. He knew that we would keep sinning, and He still chose to pay the penalty for us. But that's not all. He beat death. He rose from the grave. He is alive! And He cares about all of the little things and the really big things that we have lost.

He cares about the things that have been lost.
Jobs
Friends
Miscarriages
Homes
Relationships
Money
Reputation
Joy
Life

He wants to give you life. He wants to replenish you with Joy. He knows all of the cracks and voids, and He has exactly what you need to fill them.

If He cares about a borrowed ax head sinking in the water, He definitely cares about the worries in the heart of His children.

Moving Nightmare

We pulled up to a modern building with black stone columns and metal gates on the windows. I helped Sweetness unbuckle and we walked hand in hand toward the door. "Who is this guy again?" I asked Jacob. He smiled, "I can't exactly pronounce his name, but he's supposed to be the best." My stomach became a little uneasy and blood boiled a little.

You see, I don't like surprises. I like schedule. It is sometimes a point of contention between my handsome hubs and I because we are so different. He wants to have no plans and just drive around aimlessly looking at things. I want to schedule down time so that I know that for the next hour and 23 minutes I can do whatever I want- be it rest, or writing, playing with Ryot, or watching tv. We are just different, and that's ok.

It's Saturday. Jacob is happy. Just go with it. I calmed my nerves down and smiled back at him. "It's an adventure, I guess." I said as I grabbed the door handle. Immediately I thought we were in the wrong place. "Is this a joke?" I asked Jacob, but when I looked at his face full of wonder, I knew he wouldn't be responding. The walls were painted in dark blues, greys, and blacks, but with the lights so dim it was hard to tell some of the colors apart. Occasionally there was a wall with a bold geometric print painted on it. The decorations on the displayed art were dark colors and modern designs. This all seemed so far away from any sort of design that Jacob and I had considered.

"I'm going to look around." I told Jacob as Ryot and I began to walk through the store. I repeated myself since I had heard no response. His look of concentration didn't waiver as his thumbs separated page after page of modern gothic designs. Is this really happening? What is he thinking? I walked through a narrow hallway to large space decorated like a room-to-room furniture store. The only difference is that the huge vaulted ceilings that are normally caressed by ceiling to floor windows seemed like an endless pit going up. There were no windows, and few lamps. Most of the lamps on display were tinted to be darker or a color like red. I squinted trying to look at the designs as the staff dressed in all black walked by emotionless. At least we weren't getting hunted down by sales people. That was just about the only silver lining of this place.

We made our circle around the room and found more bold prints, geometric shapes, dark colors, metal, and leather. It was all different variations of the same exact thing. Back through the narrow hallway, we spotted Jacob in the same place we had left him. A staff member was opening a book half the size of the table to show Jacob the designs for painting the living room. "Ciao Bella!" the staff member startled us with his boisterous greeting. He quickly dashed around the table to kiss both of us on the cheek and then returned to his spot on the other side of the desk. I know he said his name at some point of our meeting, but before I could ask him for it again he was back on track. He spoke very quickly over the next few minutes through a thick Italian accent. I didn't catch all of it, but made out that he was the owner, and that they had pretty much planned everything out in the 10 minutes that Ryot and I had been perusing the designs around the store.

A variation of dark blue paint swabs, dark blue geometric shapes in a pattern, pictures of dark blue and black furniture with modern metal accents all laid out in books and magazines on the desk. "Woah, woah, wait. I think we need to think about this a little more. We don't even have a house yet." I reminded Jacob as we had just talked with our realtor the day before. "How long is this job going to take?" I put my hand in the middle of the table and looked back and forth between the owner and Jacob. "Five to six weeks, finito" the owner said to me and stood in silence for the first time since I had returned to the table.

Five to six weeks? My blood pressure started rising. We don't have five to six weeks. We have to move in four. FOUR. We have four weeks to move all of our stuff out, clean the apartment, and turn our keys in. We don't even have a place to live yet. We would have to find a place today and go through all of the steps to finalize that it's ours on the same day, and we still would be displaced one to two weeks while the design team was finishing our space. There is no way that this timing was going to work out.

I looked at Jacob and took a deep breath to ready my response.

Then I woke up.

I guess the combination of talking to our Realtor yesterday, creating an event to ask my friends to help us move, and renting a moving truck all before actually having a place to live is weighing heavier on my mind than I thought.

So much for sweet dreams!

The Battle

I remember being told that my heart hurt so much because I loved so deeply. "How do I turn that off?", went through my mind on more than one occasion in middle school and high school. I didn't want to love that deeply if it hurt this bad. It was too costly for the reward. But that was when I didn't understand real love.

No, I'm not talking about 'twue wuv' or 'mawwiage', (Princess Bride reference, anyone) but a love that was unconditional. This wasn't a middle school boyfriend drama. There are just people in a child's life who are just naturally supposed to love them. Back then, I saw the only common denominator was me. I didn't understand life. I'm not saying I fully understand life now; that seems like an awfully bold statement. However, I have grown, failed, learned, and been kindly given some good nuggets of revelation over the years. Thank you to Jesus, and the beautiful mentors He has placed in my life.

Growing up, I knew Bible stories, the importance of worship and obedience, fellowship (shout out to my fellow Baptist-raised peeps), and the basics of being a good Christian. I know that Spiritual Warfare was talked about at church but it wasn't something I understood.

I didn't understand that every moment is a battle of the mind.
I didn't understand that renewing your mind was a offensive weapon. I just thought it was fixing what was wrong in me to be more like Jesus.
I didn't understand the importance of the choices I made.
I didn't understand that it wasn't just me that struggled with loneliness, insecurity, and shame.
I didn't understand how early in life the battle begins.

I now understand the importance of taking every single thought captive because the mind has the potential to be an isolating, debilitating place.

I see the battle already full force in my Ryot. Anyone that knows my Sweetness knows that she really is a little sour patch kid. She hasn't quite learned the skill of controlling her face from showing her emotions. An emotion that often rears it's head is anger or frustration. For my little she-hulk, it takes some patience and a lot of the Father's love to calm her down and get to the root of the issue. Most of the time if you really talk to her she reveals that she is just mad at herself. She doesn't understand why she makes the decisions she makes. She doesn't want to be angry, disobey, or make people feel sad or disrespected when she makes mean faces. I had family in town this past weekend and they laughed because it really is her go-to. I don't even think she realizes she does it. In our house, we tackle one thing at a time, and this mean face habit's number was just called. Not because I want to control her or create fake emotions, but because I want her to understand that she has the power through Jesus to take every thought and emotion captive. She has power with her words and facial expressions to possibly alter how other people feel.

Proverbs 15:13 says, "A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit." This verse punched me in the gut when I read it. Am I teaching Ryot the power of her mind? Am I giving her the tools that I learned so that she can surpass me to new glories as she grows? Am I focusing more on the symptom and not the cause? Is she aware of the battle for her mind and emotions?

Ryot is a flame that is beautiful and unpredictable. Ryot was made in God's image.

God is not tame.

Parting a sea so a mass of people could walk through and letting the waters crash on the enemy.
Speaking through a burning bush.
Speaking through animals.
Flipping tables.
Do the plagues sent for the Egyptians seem like a tame battle plan?

God is not tame. He does not take battle being waged on His children lightly. He does not take lies being whispered to His precious babies lightly. He will not sit idly by while the war is waged on our hearts. He never has. He has already defeated death on the cross, and has given us every resource of His spirit, and completely open communication with Him at all times to fight back.

Not one of us can fight this alone. Ryot has gifts and talents that God created specifically for her that I do not possess, because we are meant to be the church, together. To battle lies, together. To put each puzzle piece of our being together to be the body of Christ to fight this battle, together.

That helplessness that breaks you is a lie.
That shame that you carry is a lie.
The brokenness that you feel is not from Jesus.
The loneliness that encompasses you is merely a dust covering the light.
It's all a battle of the mind.
Take captive EVERY thought.

'Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things." Phil 4:8

For those of you who love Ry, thank you for continuing to give her grace and know that there is way more going on under the surface than she can articulate. Thank you for not perpetuating the culture of shame that she so easily tacks on herself. Thank you for calling out goodness in her and holding her accountable to honor and obedience. Thank you for knowing that the enemy is already waging war on her mind and looking up to you to see how you handle it. She really is going to change the world, if we can somehow not tame the wild free spirit that God joyfully created in her. 

The same goes for me and you. We really can change the world.