Letting go

The thing with letting go is that it isn't something you do just one time.  It is something that is done over and over again.  Sometimes daily.  When you've realized that you're still holding on or that you've grabbed hold again.  Letting go is a forever and continual process it seems.

The weekend was about letting go.  Todd and I labored in the garage and our second bedroom most of Saturday.  Building piles of things that we simply didn't need or use and sent them off to Goodwill.

Sleeping bags.  Old decorations.  Stuffed animals.  Hunter green towels.  My "skinny" clothes.   *sigh*

And yes, I let them go.  Not because I don't think I'll ever get there, but because after sorting through them I realized my fashion choices have changed quite a bit in the last decade and there wasn't much I would still wear as my thirty-something self.  I saved one top, a favorite pair of jeans and let the rest go.  Doing that felt both sad and freeing at the same time.

Maybe letting go is supposed to feel that way.  Sad and freeing.

We are tired of the clutter.  We've been selling things and giving things away all year.  I feel like my home is almost able to breathe.  I say almost because we're not quite done yet.  There are still papers to rifle through and files to make and something to be figured out with my craft situation. (Apparently, I have a craft situation now.  Thank you Pinterest.) 

But it feels good to be almost there.  To have things in order, to feel like life is more simplified because we've stopped holding on to things that don't matter.

There's room to move around, room to breathe, room to hope.  You need space for those things it seems.

We are still waiting to hear more about Todd's potential job.  We received some news that wasn't bad, but it wasn't what we were hoping for either.  After many tears and a big heart-to-heart and trying to look a little too far ahead into the future, I let it all go.

I shared my heart with my husband, I prayed and decided that what I needed most was to rest in truth.  We're going to be okay.  God will remember us - He has us.  We have what we need right now and that's really all that matters.  He knows what is best and all I need to do is just rest in Him and live.  Things will happen when they do and I can't plan or will it or control it into becoming.

It felt a bit like losing and I felt like I had won too.  Though I'm not sure why. Maybe letting go is supposed to feel that way too.

Letting go though, opening my hands and letting all that I was holding on to slip through my fingers, allows for Him to fill it with something else.  Something more.

I've Been

I've been daydreaming about fall and decorating and cooler weather and wearing scarves.

I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for things.  And I'm still waiting.

I've been writing less and reading more. 

I've been cultivating new friendships and enjoying them immensly.

I've been looking forward to the summer Olympics.  I love watching gymnastics!

I've been hoping summer would go by a bit more quickly because I'm officially over it.  

I've been working on new things at work - like developing policies and helping to write a company handbook on rules and guidelines.

I've been missing my friend B.

I've been wishing that money grew on trees so I could fly to Michigan and visit her.

I've been thinking about prayer.  I love what Ann Voskamp said about it the other day.

 I've been having a hard time sleeping through the night.

I've been restless and antsy and spinning.  I wish I could say I had this under control, but I don't.

I've been letting go of some things that have needed letting go of.

I've been grateful, very grateful, that Fridays are short work days.

Life Unplanned

I've always had some kind of plan for my life.  Even in the lost moments, the ones where I was wandering and confused and didn't even know who I was yet, I was always planning.  Setting little goals, trying to put things in motion to make something happen in my life.  Searching for significance, purpose and meaning.

Here I am now.  Thirty-one and far from anywhere I had ever planned to be.

I'm not an opera singer.  I'm not a stay-at-home mom to four kids.  I'm not some famous author.  I don't have a college degree and I'm not out of debt or skinny.  At one time or another I had planned for those things to happen and I suppose they still can if I really wanted them to.  I'm still living and reaching for the things.  Although, maybe just no to four.

At the end of the day, most of me feels content with where I am.  I have this underlying peace from God, where I know I'm right where I belong.  He has me in all of these specific places in life because He knows what is best for me.

Yet, I live with deep longings for more too.  I know that He knows about those longings.  He cares about all of the unrealized dreams and all that I'm scared to pursue.  I often feel His invitation to start on the paths that I hesitate to go down.  But sometimes I'm afraid He will leave or that I could get lost in it somehow.

The relationship I have with God is real.  It feels unique to me.  I find myself talking to Him throughout my every day.  I may not always pick up my Bible or get into some deep theological study, but He is truly a part of how I live and do life.  I'm far from religious.  I don't follow rules.  I don't like to put God or what I believe into some definable box either.  Sometimes I feel different than a lot of people who share my faith because of my convictions and how I live looks differently for my life than theirs.  And I've learned that this is okay, because at the end of the day what matters most is me and Him.  What I have with God, with Jesus - it's very real and personal to me.  It has changed me and I hope He is always moving in my heart making me more like Him than I was the day before.

Lately I have found myself curious about what He is writing in to my story.  I feel like I'm heading into a new season and He is gently taking me there.  Things are going to be changing for me and my family.  I've been feeling this tug on my heart and these whispers of where He is inviting me to join Him.  And though I feel somewhat scared and anxious about what it holds and means for me, it's hard to stay fearful.  I feel more at rest the more I allow myself to lay down all that I had been planning and just let Him lead me to the place He has in store.

God has often asked me to do things that have felt risky.  And after I took those steps of faith, I have always been able to look back and see where He sustained me.  Where he took care of my heart and came through.

Sometimes, things in life tend to feel bigger than God.  The road ahead of me feels much like that.  It seems impossible and I have more questions than answers.  I find myself asking Him, "Are you really big enough to do this?  Are you really big enough to make what you're calling me to a reality.  Do you really have this in store for me?"

And I hear his gentle and firm reply of, "I AM."  And it calms my heart and suddenly having answers seems less important.

I know His voice.  I know it when I hear it.  I know that whisper and what I feel in my heart.  Though what lies in front of me is full of uncertainty, maybe if I just keep listening for His voice and following it closely, I'll end up right where He wants me.  Right where I've always belonged.

This relationship, this Jesus, this Voice that I listen to that leads and loves me - it's a truly wild adventure.  A beautiful journey.  One that I could have never, ever planned for.

Monster Truckin'

Our little guy turned THREE on Saturday!  For a special birthday outing, Todd and I took him to see Madagascar 3 on Friday night since he's such a "big boy" now.  However, he was more interested in playing in the theater chairs and pushing all of the arm rests up and down than he was in the movie itself.  Needless to say, it will be awhile before we try that again!

Saturday was his big party day - we had been counting down the days together.  I decided to take it easy in the party department this year and kept it simple.

Since Tommy's most favorite thing right now are trucks - monster trucks, dump trucks, tow trucks, police trucks, hunting trucks, trailer-pulling trucks (I think you get the idea) - I used that as my inspiration for some simple decor.

Like filling dump trucks with chips. Though take note where you place a truck full of chips.  Because it may roll off the table and dump chips everywhere.

Streamers and balloons - when you do them right, they don't look so "cheap."  It took more time than I care to share, but I dressed up the windows in a fun pattern.

I found a cute monster-truck cake at the grocery store. I suppose I could have made it myself, but why, when the store will do it for you?

And I had another banner printed up at work too. He especially loved that the "O" in his name was a tire.

We just had our families over this year for his birthday and the day was very sweet.  I think he felt celebrated and enjoyed - even if he did cry when we sang him Happy Birthday.  (My family sings like a very loud choir and sings Happy Birthday in seven-part harmony - and I'm not kidding).  Apparently, it's just too much.

He got some fun new toys and several new trucks for his birthday - we could almost open a truck dealership at this point. 

I was a bad picture-taker that day and didn't manage to capture a picture of three of us - I promise Todd was totally there. 

It seems a bit surreal.  Why is that time flies so much faster when you have children and life is marked by milestones and birthdays and watching them grow and change and realizing that they already need new shoes again? 

Another birthday.  Another year older.  Another fun party behind us.

Carne guisada

Carne guisada is on the menu for dinner tonight.  It's like a mexican stew with spicy meat, onions and tomatoes and it's typically served with tortillas, spanish rice and beans. 

This particular meal is something I remember my mom making quite a bit when I was growing up.  Anytime I have it bubbling over the stove, it smells like my childhood Sundays after church when my dad would be listening to music loudly in the living room and my brother and I would relentlessly bug each other until it was time to sit down as a family and eat.

To this day, I still pick out the onions and tomatoes, because ew.  But the smell of it cooking reminds me of her.  How her beauty often showed up in the kitchen over simmering pots and breads freshly baked and cookies cooling on sheets of wax paper.  How she always made it a point for us to sit around the table together as a family - that was her heart even if those times didn't end up being meaningful.  She wanted us to be together, to be one. 

She's been on my heart lately. 

Sometimes I wonder what she would think of who I've become.  Who I married, what my life looks like.  Who I am - a self-taught bookkeeper, a ministry leader, a working mom, an only-on-Sundays singer, a deep feeler, an avid party thrower.

The wounded parts of me wonder if she would be critical and ugly to me about my weight.  If she would find something to be jealous of me for because it had always felt that way.  If she would be disappointed that I never made it in to the opera scene.  She had missed her chance and she didn't want me to miss mine.  But, I did.

The parts of my heart that are the truest though - the parts God has touched with His grace and healing - those parts of me know.  I know she would be proud.  I know she would give me kind guidance.  I know she would sit and talk with me about the past when I felt like I needed too.  I know she would share her heart with  me.  And I know she would tell me that my Carne guidsada tasted better than hers, even if it wasn't true. 

There are a handful of things that I have that used to be hers.  I treasure them, maybe more than you should treasure belongings.  But I do because they are all that I have left of a woman that I have gotten to know more in death than I knew in life.  They're my only pieces left of a life that seems lived ages ago when she was present in it.  When I had a mom.

Her cookbook is one of them.  It's pages are full of her beautiful, flowing handwriting.  It contains the recipes that still make me grimace, like Chicken and Wine.  And others that bring back memories or remind me of the holidays like Applesauce Spice Cake and Snicker Doodles.

Taking it out, looking at her handwritten pages, and making one of her meals makes her feel just a little bit closer.  Like she's right there.  Tearfully smiling at how I carry on her memory and how much I understand now that I'm a grown woman and a wife and a mother. 

Some days there's just this undeniable ache.  And I don't even know what it is until I give myself some space and quiet to know where it's coming from.  But it's her.  It's being motherless and her not being here and how some days I just feel that absence deeply. 

Tonight though, I will sit around the kitchen table with my little family and eat a meal that I once shared with her.  Those are the moments that it feels like an honor and privilege, to not just live with the ache of missing her. 

But to be living. 

She would be happy and proud just to see me really living.

Thursday List

When the day starts with surprise gifts and Starbucks from your boss, you know it's going to be a very good Thursday.

And I needed a pick-me up after yesterday's gloomy doldrums.  I felt better after I ate some mexican food and talked to a friend about all that I was feeling anxious over at dinner last night.  After I vocalize everything that I'm spinning over, I'm usually able to calm down. 

Though I must admit - chips and salsa totally help too.

Yesterday was our last day of rain and summer storms for a while - supposedly.  It's been so weird to have a rainy, cloudy July and honestly, I'm ready for our south Texas summer sun and blazing heat that I'm used to.  Is it weird that I miss it? 

Get back with me in a week though when we're in the 100-and-somethings again.

I told Todd last night that I only have a little over a month until it's time to decorate my house for fall.  I decorate mid-September because I'm a little crazy and hope that decorating for the season will usher it in much more quickly.  It has yet to work, but either way - decorating season is almost here and I'm a bit giddy about it.

I'm SO ready for the weekend. 

Date night-in tomorrow, Tommy's birthday party on Saturday, having some friends over for dinner and shenanigans, church, a Sunday nap, and a birthday party to attend - to name a few things.

Fun summer times.

Limbo

I hate when life feels unsettled, when so much is up in the air.  And part of you is just waiting for it all to come crashing down all at once, because so often, that's how it goes.  My heart aches this urgent ache and I just want to know - just want to see a little ways down in to the future.  To see what will happen.  Maybe then I can rest in all that I'm waiting for.

Life feels very much in limbo right now.  There are so many questions.  We have zero answers and I've never done well with waiting.  I want security and something to count on. 

Right now, so much hinges on whether or not Todd will start a new job with his Uncle.  It looks promising, but the timeline is fuzzy and that's what has me spinning. We've been told we won't hear anything until August now.  All of this feels like it's taking forever and it's hard to not to go to the familiar and hopeless place of "Why would this work out?  Nothing ever does!"

I am a worrier too.  I obsess about things and worry and spin and stress until I sometimes make myself sick.  It's a horrible pattern I wish I could be free of.  Somewhere along the way, I decided that if I worry enough about something, then whatever it is I'm worrying about won't happen and everything will happen as it ought to.  And really, sometimes things happen and sometimes they don't - and no amount of worry or over-thinking ever changes the outcome.

Needless to say, I feel emotionally and physically spent.  Worrying exhausts me, yet I still do it. And it's a joy-robber, a life-killer.  The things I choose to worry and fret over cost so much, yet I continue in its vicious cycle.

And always, these are the times God feels the farthest from me.  Because I get lost in stress and anxiety, His voice is missed in the chaos. 

Today is a day that I very much need to hear His voice in the midst of all of the things I'm worrying about and stressing over.  I need a little peace where there is panic.  A little rest where I am weary.  A little hope where mine has run out.

Fully

His childhood seems to be flying by so fast.  Some days it feels like I blinked and my little baby boy all wrapped up in blankets and footed sleepers is now this giant boy who has to sleep with a toy truck every night and now goes to the potty all on his own. 

Until he comes running back into the living room waving his shorts and Buzz Lightyear underwear in the air exclaiming that he peed and now he needs help getting his pants back on, that is.

He turns three on Saturday.  It feels so little and so big at the same time.  Because it means three years ago I gave birth.  Three years ago I became a mommy.  Three years ago, one of my deepest realized longings stared at me with his big blue eyes and wrapped his fingers around one of mine and my heart was changed forever.

Because of my story and where God has met me there, because of healing, of deep friendships and people who have helped me know what it is to fight for my life, I feel and live deeply.  I notice things and soak them in when the moments happen and hope that someday I'll be able to recall these precious moments where life and motherhood felt the sweetest.  It's as if I watch life from the outside sometimes - observing what is around me and how it feels and where my heart goes with it all.

We made watercolor raindrops on Saturday morning.  After eating homemade coffee-cake, we sat in our pajamas at the kitchen table and painted.  I took him for a haircut.  Bought some streamers and balloons for his party this weekend.  Gave him a ridiculously sized lollipop.  And we went swimming in the back yard (in our awesome mini-pool) until our fingers and toes were pruny and our tummies called for lunch.  It was a sweet day, just me and my boy.

But I noticed, that no matter how long I sit and ponder and feel and soak in the life around me, it keeps on going.  Flying fast right by me.  My son keeps growing and so do Todd and I.  

And maybe that's all we can do.  Breathe it all in and try to enjoy where we are as best we can.  It will still pass by and things will still change and before I know it, this season of our lives will have come to an end.  

But I will have really lived it.  And I will be able to truthfully say that I enjoyed it completely.  Fully.

Lollipops

I love this kid. 

Slimy, orange face and all.

Share your story

I have a dear friend named Gary.  He has the kindest eyes I've ever known and his hugs are some of my favorite to receive.  Being in his presence feels safe and I have trusted him with many deep places of my own heart.  Some years separate us in age, but his friendship is one that I have come to treasure.

Over the last few years I've learned quite a bit of Gary and his story.  What his life was like as a boy, where evil came for him, and where he was wounded.  Where God met him in darkness and what repentance, redemption and freedom has looked like for him.

(I have asked his permission to share the following from his story publicly.)

There has always been an unforgettable scene in his story for me.  It's where he is a small boy and his dad is working in the yard.  He's tagging along, being his young and childlike self.  And there is this moment where his dad walks right past him, brushing against his arm, but not acknowledging that he was even there.  I've heard him say that maybe if his father had just tousled his hair, it would have made him feel like he was wanted or cared for or loved.  But instead he just felt rejected, like a nobody.  That was just one scene of many for Gary where his father was distant and cold.

For some reason, this scene has always stayed with me.  I think of it often, especially in the moments where Tommy feels under foot or close to me when I'm busy doing something other than playing with him. 

To this day when I walk by my little boy, or find him close while I'm busy doing housework, I often find myself touseling his hair.  Sending this physical reminder of, "I know you're there, and even though I'm occupied and busy, you matter to me and I love you." 

In those brief moments, my mind always, always goes to Gary as a little boy. I ache and smile at the same time.  Because his story, his longings and needs as a child, and his bravery in telling of those things - all of that has had an impact on me. Gary's story has shaped how I mother my son. 

This is why I'm passionate about telling stories and just as passionate about listening to them.  Because when we share our stories, these scenes - small and seemingly insignificant or huge and life-altering - not only can we shed God's light and perspective on them, but they have the ability to change us.  They have impact on how we live and love others. And ultimately, how we see God.

I suppose I will always think of Gary any time I tousle Tommy's hair.  I hope I always remember the pieces and scenes of other's stories that have left a mark on my heart and changed the way I want to show up and love others.

Tiara-wearing-dream-squasher

- Nothing quite brings my lazy out like a good rainstorm.  It's day three of rumbling skies and waves of rain in South Texas.  This weather is pretty abnormal for July in my neck of the woods.  But I'll take it!

- I only wish I was home in my very favorite and forgiving stretchy lounge pants, watching something Jane Austenish and eating chocolate - it's my favorite rainy day ritual.  But instead, I'm at work and running errands and out driving in it and also having a helluva bad hair day because the humidity just makes it go flat and boring.

- Also, my little boy is home sick with some kind of tummy trouble and I wish I were there to snuggle him and watch cartoons and just being the mama-bear.  Those are the moments when it's hard to work.  *sigh*

- Todd told me last night that I was a dream-squasher.  Ouch.

- But it's true.  I've never been good at dreaming.  I'm much better at stomping all over everything and slandering it with my words and shutting down the dreamers around me - especially my husband.  It comes from that place where I just think nothing good will ever happen or work out the way that I want it to, so I crap all over it and make myself miserable.

- I wonder what it would be like if I stopped this and let myself dream with him.  Because Todd is very, very good at dreaming.  Maybe I have some things to learn from him there.

- I'm the new unofficial party-planner of the office.  (For the record though, I'm nothing like Angela).   Along with cake and a party-tray of chicken nuggets from Chickfila, I got some cheap tiaras and everyone got in the spirit for our co-worker's birthday - even the guys.  It was epic.

- Tommy is going to be three next Saturday.  THREE.  How is the possible?  Didn't I just have him?  I'm throwing a monster-truck party for him - though I'm keeping it simple this year and not getting carried away.  Well, that's the plan anyway.

- It's officially three hours and counting until I can head home and listen to the rain in the comfort of my stretchy pants.  Happy Wednesday ya'll.

the good things

It's when good things happen, that I tend to fall apart.  When blessings abound, or things fall in to place just as exactly as I hoped that they would - that's when I am a complete wreck.  I feel myself turn into a giant mess of anxiety and worry about whatever good thing that's happening. 

It could be taken from me.  I could lose it.  It could fall apart and I'll  be left with my grief and with questions for God about why He blessed me with something and then allowed it to be taken away.  And I'm scared about the durability of my faith.  What another huge loss or major disappointment would do to the deeper relationship that I've been building with God the last couple of years. 

Needless to say, it's hard for me to enjoy and celebrate when the good things happen and come my way.   I often let my fears and worries rob me of any joy.  I almost anticipate for those things to be snatched away from me. 

These days it feels like good things are happening for us.  And I'm scared.  Terrified really.  That it's all too good to be true and that I'm not deserving of these good things anyway.  That they will fall apart and I'll be left in the midst of devastation with a broken heart and another round of intense anger toward God.

Maybe that's what I fear the most - living life where I am angry with Him again all the time.  It took nearly a lifetime to get to this place where I made-up with Him so-to-speak.  I've enjoyed this new place and I fear that some circumstance will knock me over and turn my world upside down again. 

I wonder why it feels easier somehow to have no good things and just go to God with my hopes and longings and prayers and live with a void instead.


This morning I'm aware of my need for some peace and rest in the midst of the things my heart is holding on to and hoping for.  And I'm aware again of my beautifully desperate need for Him. 

Maybe it's when the good things come, that I need Him even more.

You're writing my story.  
You hold my heart.   
And I need You here.  
I need You.

Things that make me smile

Rain.  Thunder.  Wet streets and driving through puddles.  

The possibility of Todd starting a wonderful, new job in a matter of weeks.  

Friends who know how to share in laughter and tears with you because they love your heart.

My soon-to-be cousin-in-law, Grayson.

Our church.  How it feels like home.

Dreaming with my husband about the what-ifs and the maybes and the could-be's. 

Tommy's silly sayings.

This song.

Sharing my favorite grace story with friends.

That God can do exceedingly above what we think and imagine - and really knowing that to be true and real.

Love notes on the refrigerator....

Butterflies.  The kind you feel in your stomach.

Free

This was our little slice of America yesterday.  Wimberley, Texas - where the Blanco river is nestled in the quiet beauty of the Texas hill country.

Some friends from church invited us out to celebrate with them and their family and we were thrilled to go.  The day was perfect - everything you could want your Fourth of July to be.  Friends, burgers, American flag inspired desserts, and fireworks.

We went tubing on the river - and dare I say that I might actually becoming a river girl?  I never would have thought.  But it's pretty fun and definitely relaxing!

My sister-in-law and BFF, Tiffany, came in from Ft. Worth to celebrate with us.  It made the day even more perfect just because she's one of my favorite people to be with.

Tommy was thrilled about the day, because holidays mean that things like cookies are usually found in abundance.  He joined us in the river and got pulled around in a red wagon and went exploring with some of his new friends.  By the time we left last night, it was late and it took him maybe two minutes to pass out in the car.

There were new friends.....

 And old friends......

 And my very, very, best in-love-with friend.

 Kids waving flags and watching fireworks.

Fireworks might be the very best part of Independence Day.  Beautiful bright flashes of light going off in the sky.  A picture of what celebrating freedom looks like.  And, I'm thirty-one years old and they still fill me with childlike wonder and excitement.

I felt very aware of freedom yesterday.  Of the things, the rights, the privileges I have because I am an American.  And more so, I felt very aware of my own personal freedom. The freedom that was given to me and paid for by Jesus Himself. 

As I sat in the river dipping my feet in the water and feeling the warm sunshine kiss my skin I whispered a prayer. "Thank you.  For giving me this.  This day, these friends, the ability to be comfortable in my own skin so that I can be in a  bathing suit in front of strangers.  For bringing me to life so that I'm bold enough to try new things.  For softening my heart and making me new - for letting me see where there has been change and it's all because of You.  You are the reason that I am free.  Thank You." 

Hope you all had a magical, wonderful, fun-filled Fourth of July.

The day we played in the rain

Sunday's big display of rain showers was the perfect day to cross #24 off of my summer bucket list.  When I saw the downpour outside, I opened the front door and looked at Tommy with excitement.

"Want to go outside in the rain and jump in muddy puddles?" 

(Which if you don't have a three year-old child who watches Nick Jr. then you have no idea I'm referencing Peppa Pig.  And Peppa Pig and her family always go and jump in muddy puddles.  Except like sensible pigs, they wait until the rains have stopped.)

"YEAH!!!!"  Was his animated reply.  We ran outside and he looked at me a bit wide-eyed at first.  Like, I can't believe my crazy mother is running out into the street and playing in the rain.  Is she crazy?


Well, yes.  I am. 

He was eager to join me though.  I wish this picture wasn't blurry, because I love - love - the look on his face.  He is so happy and seeing written into that big smile of his brings me so much joy.

Todd came outside and joined us too.  We splashed and jumped and squealed and laughed.  One of our neighbors stood at his door and watched us.  I wondered if he thought we were foolish of if he wanted to be outside jumping in puddles with his own children. 

And I wondered about Tommy - if he might remember this day.  I hope he does.  I think every child should remember days that are full of silly and laughter. Where your parents take delight in you and do crazy things because that's what it means to be a mom and a dad.

Sometimes being a parent means teaching right from wrong and how to have manners and how to pick up after yourself and how to use the potty and bathe all on your own.  Parenthood means a lot of teaching and instruction and guiding. 

But sometimes, parenthood means something more.  You get to teach by example and your children observe you and the way you live and act.  Those are the moments that maybe have more impact than all of the guiding and teaching we have to do.  Because I just don't want Tommy to learn how to be a polite boy who makes straight A's in school.  I want to show him the more.


Where it's fun to get a little crazy and look like the fools of the neighborhood.  Where you crash trucks into your living room walls and not worry about dents or messing up the paint.  Where you let them jump off the couch and hide in the cabinets because they are really a "spaceship."  Where you get to show them how a proper pillow fight is done and that the best part of making chocolate chip cookies is eating the dough.  And when you run outside in the pouring rain and play, simply because you can.

Sometimes, parenthood gets to be about the more.  And those are the moments I enjoy the most.

Maybe it was a little reckless, a little crazy, a little dangerous.  Maybe we did look like fools. 

But it was fun.  It brought joy to the part of my soul that is forever a little girl.

It really was the very best day.

and july begins

July started with cloudy, gray skies.  It began with soft, rumbling thunder and large drops of rain.  With wet streets and muddy grass and with glorious, musical rain-showers.

Summer in South Texas rarely begins that way.  It was a welcome break from the blazing heat we've had.  Because really, summer is not this poetic.  To me, summer has always felt like something to be suffered through, to survive and endure.  To wait until October offers it's cool, autumn relief.  It's my least favorite season of all really.  Maybe it has something to do with the hundred-and-something temperatures we get every year.

Somehow it's July already.  It's time for cookouts and fireworks.  My son's "monster truck" birthday.  Wedding showers and the start of the summer of the Olympics.  Clearly, it's time for celebration.  Yet I feel pensive and melancholy.  Maybe it's jut the rain....

I haven't been sleeping well for the past week.  My mind is alive and awake with odd thoughts and peace feels far away for some reason.  Some of my struggles feel weightier and heavier right now.  I feel like I'm trying to make a new plan and recollect myself so I can keep going and fighting for what needs to be fought.  I wish life could always feel like more than just a battle to be won. 

The last of the rains have gone and the skies are starting to part.  July's hot summer sun is mixing with the wet to make the air tangible and sticky and the most uncomfortable kind of warm.