I just turned 41. And it’s after 9:30. So, either this will be short or I’ll word vomit all over and publish with the uncertainty of it making any sense. Are you as excited as I am to see where we end up?
Continue readingI still catch myself asking the question, ‘is this year real life?’ more than I’d like to admit. But apparently it is and aren’t we all just figuring it out as we go?
Continue readingOk, humans. I need to preface all of this with an acknowledgment that I’ve spent a significant amount of time debating clicking ‘Publish.’ Because we might not be on the same page. I also want to make it 10000% clear that I believe in humanity as a whole. And I also support those whose role is to protect and serve. In fact, I personally know and love some of them. But, it is possible you might not like what I’ve poured out here. And, it’s ok. And also? Going back to something I’d shared a while back, I can’t give one single crap about that. Finally, I truly believe we can still be friends. The world would be so boring if we all felt the same. Amiright?
Continue readingOh, 2020. Although it feels like 17 months ago now that the calendar changed, I remember how much hope you held. And now? Well, now I think you’re kind of a jerk. And it’s only June.
In hindsight, how many times have we heard ‘don’t get your hopes up.’ And how many times do we do exactly the opposite because, things! They hold such promise! And I turned 40 at the Grand Canyon! And Connor had a golden birthday! And my dad turned 70! And Connor finished middle school! And Alyssa graduated from college! And we were going on trips!
And that’s where that word that rhymes with zovonatirus broke everything. Because we had a grand family trip planned (after the other trip CJ and I had to cancel) to one of my very favorite places in all of the entire universe (which my familiarity of travel-wise is fairly small, but still) … Colorado. We were planning on leaving this coming Monday.
And while it is really, really difficult to put my hopes back down about a hot air balloon ride in the middle of Rocky Mountain country (wut?!), there is still cause for celebration. And this is where I’ll peel my temper tantrum-throwing body off the floor to share something really sweet.
These two? They’ve been married for 50 years. 5.0. Fifty. Weren’t they adorable? That was February 14, 1970. The day my dad proposed. And for the record, my mom was still in high school.
Now, I can’t sit here and pretend I know the secret to a staying power like theirs because … I’ll just say that I will likely NEVER be married for 50 years (yo! potential husbands! we are running out of timmmmme!). But, just like Forrest Gump, I know what love is.
And it’s what they’ve got.
My devotional actually led me to the love chapter this morning. You know … the one they read at all the weddings. I’ve been especially taken with The Passion Translation as of late and the seventh verse hit me in a special kind of way.
Love is a safe place of shelter, for it never stops believing the best for others. Love never takes failure as defeat, for it never gives up. 1 Cor. 13:7 (TPT)
I should have asked them what the trick is to tolerating the same human being for that.freaking.long but after watching them for the past forty years, I have a few ideas. I’ll be as brief as I can (grab a pencil and some paper, too. it’s a golden list. duh.)
Quite frankly (dad! lol), I could go on and on with what I’ve witnessed in a marriage that spans 50 years, but here’s the very simple truth …
You just don’t give up. That’s it.
How many times do you think my parents failed each other? I’m guessing at least a few. But both of them; both of those young and adorable ‘children’ decided on June 12, 1970 that they were choosing each other. They were choosing to be each other’s safe place of shelter. And they were choosing that regardless of anything this completely questionable and seemingly unraveling world could throw at them, they were going to make that choice to fight for the other day in and day out forever and ever amen.
Love never gives up.
I love you and your love, D & C. I pray that some day I can have something like you do, if only so that I can show you that I DO know what love is. It’s what you’ve got, even if I have to break up your arguments over how to operate the FF button.
Cheers to your golden day. And to many, many more. ❤
How is that for an attention-grabbing headline? I’m just teasing. I mean, can we not use this time to talk about the news? At all? Ok, deal. I honestly do have a reason for you to celebrate today, though. Ready?
Continue readingI read a book a couple years ago that quickly came to mind this morning as I considered how I could humbly and even remotely honor the mamas.
See, I consider myself so incredibly fortunate to have a number of women in my life that fulfill the role of a mama. To be clear, I have one mama. More on that later. But I also fully believe that you do not have to have given birth to another human to be a mama. I’ve witnessed the incredible pain of women who have battled infertility only to never have the opportunity to conceive a child. Those women (and men who stand alongside them) have the heart of a parent.
I’ve seen women who have had to carry on through miscarriages and loss near, at or after giving birth; some experiencing loss after their child reaches their teens or even their twenties. Nothing takes away their role of being a mama.
And then there are mamas who choose not to birth biological children (for one reason or another) and yet opt to pour their heart and soul into children who were birthed by another and, out of some circumstance, made available to love. (These women are true heroes, by the way.) Mamas still.
The women in my life have been shaped by many of the paths to becoming a mama noted above but they chose to love me like a mama without giving birth to me. (And I bet to all high heaven they are surely glad they didn’t get the privilege of being my actual parent. Only God could have prepared the two I got for that monumental task.) I started going through all the names in my mind and it was actually a bit overwhelming.
I’m so grateful and blessed beyond measure. I have women who have held me during intense shake crying; women who have silently prayed for me (some even with paper reminders in their own prayer room); women who have spoken such life to me that I can’t put words to it and then of course, just women who have befriended me with such sweet tenderness that they still call me friend despite my constant sucking at being a friend back.
To all of these mamas, I just humbly whisper ‘thank you.’ (Like with tears and red cheeks but you already knew about all that because you chose to know me.) And because I’m getting up there in years, I’m going to forego the actual list. I don’t want to forget anyone. But I feel like you know who you are. And that I love the crap out of you.
Finally, there is my own mom. The one who gave me life. I will NEVER be able to be the daughter I feel like you deserve. Thank God for Nikki, right? I mean, I know I have given you more to worry about, to stress over, to be fearful of, to shake your head about, to find a padded room to step into over and to likely just want to run outside and shake your fist at heaven and say, ‘whyyyyyy me, God?! whyyyyy?’ And yet, you have loved me in the way that only a fierce-hearted mama can. You have chosen to love me despite my myriad of flaws, to show me kindness when I didn’t deserve it, to fight for me when I couldn’t fight for myself, to demonstrate what a successful professional woman looks like, to stand next to your man in the dirt pile (figuratively and literally), to speak up for injustice and give generously to those who need it (even when it doesn’t make any sense at all) and to rise up from a pile of freaking ashes, dust myself off and realize that I can take another step. And of course, how to give all of that to a child of my own. I will never feel adequate or equipped. But, I’m doing my best.
Mostly, though? You’ve shown me what a Godly woman looks like; how that Proverbs 31 woman comes to life. You are her. And I will always be the lucky one for having such an inspiring example in my immediate (non-socially distant) circle. I love you, mama.
Finally, for all the fierce-hearted women out there, I want to share with you the intro to that book I mentioned … the words I take line by line and write about in my own journal. To remind myself of who this woman is and who I aspire to be. Happy Mother’s Day, mamas.
If you don’t go any further, please let those words pour over your soul like the waters of a warm set of falls located off the beaten path of your chosen tropical location. With a cabana boy, of course. Don’t we all just need a vacation?
Continue readingIt’s Friday. It’s the end of five weeks of being a fully remote employee. And it’s snowed off and on all day.
So, to celebrate the end of the week and to avoid any more ‘s’ words, let’s revel in a recent trip outside to a mildly angry lake, shall we? It was rather chilly and the wind was intense but after five weeks of the same work space, it was a pretty slick office for an end of the day meeting.
I would say that I grew up rather uncultured when it comes to attending on-stage events like plays or productions. Now, before you start assuming I’m just a country bumpkin who thought a trip to the movies or the mall on Saturday was a big deal … well, never mind. You’d be assuming right.
To be clear, I’m not mad about it. But the idea of an intermission would have been relatively foreign. Instead, I knew all about the pause button. For the kids these days, pause is like what you do now when you need a break during a tv show. Back then, it only applied to VHS or cassette tapes. And if it was in the context of watching a movie on VHS, you had to be swift because there was no telling if that pause button would be overcome by evil spirits and rebel. And then it became about rewind and hoping and praying you could find your spot. Man, those times were tough.
Fast forward to the present, though, and I think we can all say finding our spot is a little challenging.
I was walking one day a week or so ago and saw one of the sweetest classic theatres around and its marquee held up black lettering reading, ‘WE WILL BE BACK AFTER THIS BRIEF INTERMISSION.’
And it got me thinking.
While possibly a bit foreign, I’m not completely unaware of what an intermission is like. The very simple definition of an intermission is ‘a pause or break.’ A pause. And doesn’t this season we’re in just feel like someone pressed the proverbial pause button? And I’d also argue that because someone else’s finger did the doing that we literally have no control over when activity will resume.
And that’s incredibly difficult for some of us.
As I was thinking, I realized that I’m not typically for an intermission. Maybe it’s the rebel in me, but if I’m at a movie (or any other more fancy theatrical thing), I’ll get up when I want to. My bladder is the size of a peanut so if there was an unspoken rule I’d need to wait for intermission, I can guarantee you that wouldn’t matter. And I’d prepare in advance and have drinks and snacks purchased pre-show. And no, Connor, you can’t have more! I also just don’t love crowds so when everyone and their date rises to rush concessions or the restroom, you can count me out.
But the fact remains, we are on a break (Ross and Rachel anybody?). We’re in a state of brief intermission.
So what is brief? We don’t know. And that’s hard. School has been shut down. Spring sports are just, not. Employers have labeled employees and services as essential (or otherwise). And can I just state for the record for those who are not considered essential? You are. You so are. Don’t take it personally. Hair salons and tattoo parlors are closed. And my biggest first world problem? Coffee shops are drive-thru only. I really, really miss working and sipping on my coffee. Mostly, the people-watching. But just that sweet space I could hold for hours away from the couch. Bliss.
I’m here to offer up some perspective though, if you’ll humor me. It’s as much for me as it is for anyone else but that’s why this is my blog. And we all have that beautiful thing called choice. Anyway, while we don’t know what brief is, I can attest that we’ve been told this life is but a vapor so while some days can feel like years right now? This life truly is brief. So there’s that.
But there’s also the pause; the intermission. And because I’ve been in a bit of an intermission for much longer than this stupid virus has imposed, I am coming from a place of empathy. I promise.
While life feels so very different right now, I see some light and some hope. Here are a few examples:
Geez, that was a lot. I’m (not) sorry for that but the other quick thing I want to mention during this intermission that I’ve now just hopped on stage for is that I think there is a comparable season for us to consider as we enter into Holy Week.
I’m considering the notion that maybe this entire life is actually just an intermission … the break in the action between when Jesus is going to come back to restore what was lost all the way back in the garden … the Eden one.
We sometimes call it the messy middle. I’ve heard it likened to the space between the two gardens. But suffice it to say, this life isn’t even what we were made for! And that totally makes sense to me. We weren’t made for the pause button … at least not forever. We were made to seek something more.
We were made to be reconciled back to a God who aches with us as we ache over what we thought was our normal. And truly, I believe it’s okay to grieve some of what we’ve had to let go of in this space. But, surely, normal and home are found on that day when we come face to face with Him. When the intermission ends and the activity resumes, we can choose to come into the final act fully refreshed and ready to spend an eternity with the only One who can make sense of this messy middle. And while we are here, we can make the most of what we’ve been given (see above).
In the end, it’s just Him. And I think in the space of this brief intermission, He wants to show us that. He wants to show us the value of relationship despite distance. Truly, we were made to find rest, to restore our likely weary souls, to find our way back to our people to show them what His love looks like as it lives in us and to create out of the passions He gave us.
Thanks for humoring me. And thanks for allowing me in for just a hot second. And if you ever need to blow off some steam about how ridiculously frustrating the middle can be, I’m here for it. Because while I know it’s easy, in the moment, to offer perspective, this is likely one of the most difficult seasons we’ve ever had to face. And no one should feel like they don’t have a safe space. So just know that there is one right here.
Have faith, hold on to hope and be love. Just. be. love.
Does anyone still do golden birthdays these days? Are any of you old enough to know what that means? I was sitting here thinking back to when I turned 17 on that one fine (and I’m sure, cold) January 17th back in … eh, it doesn’t matter the year. Because I’m too old to remember. But doggoneit, we just had a golden day around here and it was for my one and only golden child.
I was so super proud of myself this year because at least three weeks in advance of Connor’s birthday I had a cake ordered, gold-colored candles, a gold-flanked 14th birthday banner and a shirt I’ve wanted to order for years from Amazon in-hand. I’ve not ordered it previously because it isn’t on Prime (which is so dumb!) but it made sense for the golden theme. I mean, you only turn 14 on the 14th one.time. It might be totally lame but I love it; it says, ‘February 2006 – Limited Edition – 14 Years of Being Awesome’. And yes, I made sure he wore that sucker to school. But my hunch is no one saw it because the child lives in a hoodie. It’s fine.
We also had our ducks in a row a couple weeks prior about our plans because Connor’s birthday happens to fall on the highly-anticipated love fest that is Valentine’s Day so instead of trying to do dinner out, he chose B.C. Pizza, cake and ice cream in with the fam bam. Honestly, it’s one of the many reasons I think the world of this child. He’s not terribly high-maintenance (maybe just thank God in general for boys) and he is ridiculously happy to eat gluten free bacon and cheese-laden bread. Also, a huge shout-out to Connie’s Cakes in Grand Rapids. They delivered what I heard was ‘the best cake I’ve ever eaten in my life.’ So, good job on that, too.
So, while it was a golden birthday, I really mean it when I say this child is golden. Maybe it’s supposed to be man child now. I don’t know when they make the official switch but I do know that we talk more about him being a man (ahem) than we talk about him being a child. And I’ve watched him change so much again just from a year go, deep voice aside.
I thought I’d put a quick list of ‘things I never want to forget about Connor at 14’ together so I can refer back when I’m much older, like 41.
Connor’s 14th made for a good sampling of who he is right now. He had a great day at school (which he said was easy), a dance after (to which he said he didn’t dance with anyone … can we just all pause and say a big ‘hallelujah’ about that?), a shower (in which he takes too freaking long), his favorite meal (that he can devour in three minutes-ish), gift-opening with the fam (where I had no choice but to get him a membership to the Dollar Shave Club – save me) and a basketball game that he forgot to tell me about until ten minutes before he wanted to leave (yep, that’s 14).
I love him. He is my hero. He makes me more proud than I ever could have imagined he would (even when he does act like a teenager, because he does!). And I just know that God has so much more for ahead for my golden man child.
