Progress

Nothing makes me want to eat more than when I am feeling worrisome - especially over money troubles. In the past it has been a pattern of mine to camp out in front of some television show and just eat everything I could get my hands on until my stomach hurt. It's gross to admit that publicly, but it's true.

Last night I made dinner. I also made a small pan of brownies because I was craving chocolate and wanted something sweet. So, I ate my meal. I shared a brownie with Tommy. I did my work-out and even added five minutes on to it. I didn't check out. I didn't over eat. I didn't eat an entire pan of brownies - which is something I could have done in the past. I nourished my body. I enjoyed a treat. I was kind to my body. I took care of myself even in my disappointment and worry.

And after Tommy was in bed and I had done my exercise and taken a shower, I let myself do some things.

I let myself cry.

I let myself feel alone.

I let myself listen to the silence and the quiet and the absence of my husband who I am missing.

I let myself feel the pain of knowing that it's going to still feel like this on at least a month's more worth of weeknights and weekends.

I let myself feel my disappointment.

I let myself question God.

I asked Him if He was punishing me or punishing us for foolish decisions. My heart knew the answer was "no," and I let the truth of that sink in.

I asked Him if He still had us, and if He still had me in this. To which He immediately replied, "Yes. I've got you. I AM."

I know God doesn't speak out loud to us, but He spoke it to my heart and I received it. And maybe that sounds weird, but I know when God is speaking to my heart.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, Todd and I were talking about the day ahead. We were having the bit of conversation that is allotted for a Thursday.

I told him how lousy I felt for powering up and trying to control the situation and what I felt guilty over. I told him how I wish I could see my body change more for all of the work I am putting in. And he gave me words of encouragement. He told me how he has seen me change. He told me that he experienced me responding differently to a very familiar situation for us. And he beamed with love for me as he told me he was proud of me. It felt good to be seen by him where I have made progress and haven't recognized it for myself. It felt glorious to know that he was witnessing a change in me. Changes that I can only get a tiny glimpse of in the mirror every day, in a smaller bra or in slightly looser pants. He sees something more.

And I guess I feel the need to document his words because they feel more tangible or true when they're written out.

I am feeling myself relax a bit.

Maybe because I'm starting to let go of some things. Maybe because trusting God is coming a little bit more naturally and with less of a fight than it used to. Maybe because I am finally letting myself feel my emotions rather than numbing them with addiction. Maybe because it feels comforting that even if no one else sees, Todd sees me and I am putting less and less value on others' opinions of my body or my life.

I'm sure it's a bit of all of those things that is enabling me to relax a bit. Either way, I'm breathing again. I made it through worry mode with minimal damage to myself and others and I'm still alive and fighting. That in itself feels like a giant, huge victory.

His words remain with me. "Yes. I've got you. I AM."

Managing heartache through control

One thing I took home from The Journey was seeing how I manage my heartache through control. That realization made me physically nauseous because it shows up in so many areas of my life. In all of the places I am seeking to control, what I am actually doing is pushing down feelings that I simply don't want to feel - my heartache or pain.

Control sounds like a good thing, but I'm not so sure it is. Control is often associated with independence, power, and toughness. Yet I see where I was created for dependence on God. I was created to need. I need to depend on others and more importantly God, for love, provision, and peace. Powering-up damages others I am in relationship with. And there is a definite difference between having strength and being tough. Strength is manifested through God at work in me. Toughness is manufactured of my own energy and is cold, unfeeling and abrasive.

I guess control is never really a good thing. It distances me from others because controlling tells others that I don't need anything you have to offer me. It distances me from God because I tell him that I can handle things on my own. It's bad for my body and mind because I can't rest. I can make myself sick and then I take out how I am feeling inside on other people.

Control only pushes. Control is gross.

Today I am feeling the devastation of disappointment. I am feeling the the boiling over anger of frustration. And because of it, I am trying to regain control in my out-of-control world. I am powering-up. I am telling God and others that I'm tough. I can take this, I can handle it, just leave me alone. It's a very lonely place to be. And control creates plenty of room for loneliness.

In short, we're not sure if Todd is going to be able to quit the part-time job after all come June. We might have to wait a little bit longer. And while it's not definite, I am finding myself spinning again, creating chaos and pushing others I love away (mostly my husband), in the midst of my disappointments.

That's what managing my heartache is looking like.

The only thing left to do is sit in my disappointments and be present in them. And cry out to God for what I need in the midst of how I am feeling.

I refuse to numb out. I refuse to turn back to ways that provide a false sense of comfort and in turn hurt my heart and my body. I refuse to let my joy be robbed of me today. I know that in my heartache, I can remain full of joy. And it doesn't fix our situation and it doesn't make me feel better, but it's where I am supposed to be. Alive, feeling, and present.

The New Schedule

It feels weird to be here again. Working more I mean.

Last week was the first week of my new schedule as I've taken on more hours at my job. I still have Fridays off, but I work Monday through Thursday in the office now. It felt weird to not leave at 3:00 on Monday. And it felt even weirder to wake up on Wednesday and realize that I better get ready and head out the door.

My body is adjusting to this again. I was used to having some significant rest during the week and I don't have that anymore. And I forgot how long it's been since I worked this much. It's been well over a year.

I suppose I feel mostly ambivalent about this change. I love my job and my boss. I am so blessed and thankful for being here. I love that working more means that Todd can quit his part-time job and we can have our normal life back again.

But.

I already miss the rest and time I had to get things done and accomplished at home. I miss the ability to see friends mid-week. I miss the occasional nap I took during the day if I wanted to have one. Working part-time was quite ideal. Yet it also came with a great cost, and it's one that we felt like we couldn't afford anymore.

Todd is quitting the pizza place after the first weekend in June. We are ready. We are ready to have our weeknights together again so that we can eat dinner as a family or take a walk - or just BE together. We are ready to have Friday or Saturday nights free so that we can go on a real live date together on a more frequent occasion. We are ready to have our weekends free and open so that we can do things together and take Tommy on fun outings. We are ready to get plugged in to a small group in our church because we will finally have the time to allow for it. Nine months into this whole thing, we are so ready to be done. Even if it does mean me working more. And while I'm ready and excited about all of this change and what it means for our life together, I am also feeling a bit bummed out that it means more time away from Tommy.

I never cease to be amazed at how many conflicting emotions can exist inside of me at the same time.

My boss checked in with me the other day, asking me how I was doing with the new schedule and working more. And I told her that I had some mixed emotions about it. I told her that I missed Tommy but I was glad that I can take on more hours too. I told her how on Wednesday I got a little choked up because it was time for Sesame Street and I kind of missed being home with Tommy to watch it with him. The words she spoke to me then were a wonderful gift.

"If you ever need a morning home with him to do that, you do it! Just come in late - it's all good! I think if we can take care of ourselves and extend ourselves a little bit of grace, we can be more productive at work. When our soul is fed and at rest, that is definitely going to carry over into how we work. So seriously, if you need a morning with Tommy and want to come in later, I'm totally fine with that. Or even if you want to head out early sometime or take a day off. Just let me know."

Does anyone else in the world have a boss like this? Yeah, I've never had one until now. She is so easy-going and understanding of my situation as a mother to a young child. This is just one of the reasons I love working for this woman.

So, I may be ambivalent. I may be working more hours. But I have been gifted with a lot of flexibility and a boss who I can go to and ask for what I need when I'm feeling overwhelmed or just missing my little guy.

As I think about last February and being scared out of my mind when the Lord led me to quit my full-time job and asked me to trust Him there, I thought He was insane. I thought I was insane. "I've got you," He said. And He did. And He led me here to a job that has provided exactly what I needed. And not just for our pocketbook....but more importantly, my heart.

Goodbye Tiffany

Some friendships come naturally. They're just easy. Something inside of two people just click and your heart just knows you've found something special.

It's been that way from the beginning with Tiffany. I met her shortly after I met Todd, and she and I instantly clicked. And I knew when I married into her family, that being sisters-in-law was only going to make us closer.

We could be ourselves.
Our sassy,

sometimes weird,
and always very silly, selves.
Friday night we went out on the town one last time before her departure for Dallas on Sunday. We did some of our most of our favorite things. Like taking random pictures in Hobby Lobby and sharing margaritas at Chilis. The night was awesome and couldn't have been more fun.

And then Sunday came and we had to say goodbye.

We hugged and cried. And then hugged and cried again.

And maybe Dallas is only fourish hours away. But it is too far to call her up on a random Wednesday night to see if she's in the mood for some Chickfila and a chick-flick. It's too far away for me to see her almost every Sunday for lunch. It's too far away for a trip to Target where we just walk around and find absolutely nothing but have the best conversation. It's too far away to share a margarita on a Saturday night and gab and gossip and laugh.

It's just too far.
She's one of the best friends I've ever had. And though she's "family," and though she'll be back in town to visit now and then, she's not here anymore. And I miss her like crazy already.

Quiet Mother's Day

Mother's Day came and went quietly this year. Since it happened to fall on the day after I got back from Michigan, I knew I was going to want to spend the majority of the day resting and just being with my boys. I ended up sleeping until noon. I felt like I was a teenager again or something - I didn't even know my 30 year old body could do that anymore.

Family was scattered about on Sunday. My step-mom was sick, my Grandparent's stayed in their town an hour away where my Aunt and Uncle went for lunch. We decided to post-pone mom day celebrations with Todd's mom until another weekend. I guess the day didn't come with as much pressures or disappointments as it usually does. And I feel somewhat guilty for saying that it felt kind of nice to not have to feel "on" or present for the various mothers in my life while feeling the ever present absence of my own.

Mother's Day is hard. I suppose it might always be.

During a free afternoon in Michigan, I went into a small town called Grand Haven with some girlfriends. After a very long walk, we did some shopping. I found a children's book called "My Mom Loves Me." As I flipped through the pages, I stood there and wept.

My mom plays with me. My mom swings with me. My mom swims with me. My mom carries me. My mom hangs out with me. My mom takes me places. My mom bathes me. My mom kisses me. My mom comforts me.

It was precious.

My tears came from a huge place of ambivalence. I couldn't draw many memories of where my own mother's love looked like that. Our relationship was distant and stale and almost non-existent. I don't remember many times where she had done any of those things with me as I grew up. My tears also came from a place where as I looked through each page, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I did each and every one of those things with Tommy.

I bought the book. Full price and everything. And while I bought it for Tommy, I kind of bought it for myself too. It felt fitting to have for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day felt like a regular ordinary Sunday. It felt kind of nice for it to just kind of come and go with ease. When it came time for Tommy to go to bed for the night, he uncharacteristically pitched a fit and sat in his crib screaming. This isn't usual behavior - he's always been a good sleeper and goes to bed easily. So I got him back up and sat him on my lap. He cuddled against me as I rocked him.

And then he whispered quietly...."I lubbs you."

And I whispered back, "I love you too buddy."

I couldn't help but realizing in that very moment that I knew he felt loved by me in that moment. And it's evident that he can understand what love feels like. They aren't just words anymore; I think he understands what being loved and loving someone feels like.

I thought my heart was going to burst. Mother's Day may have been quiet and "ordinary," but that small moment I shared with Tommy made the entire day unforgettable and extraordinary.

The Journey 2011

It's hard to capture the right words for the week I experienced up in Michigan at The Journey. Much of what happened in my heart there feels sacred and I just want to keep it for me and those closest to me.

However, I wanted to share a few highlights here. As I look at each photo that I've selected to share here, my heart is feeling an outpouring of emotion as there could be many paragraphs written about each one.

There were unexpected familiar faces - a special couple who is dear to my heart. A friendship has been renewed to me and I am in awe of God's way of weaving people in and out, and back in to our lives.
An unexpected brother-sister relationship formed between myself and a man in my group.
Valerie. What a joy to know and be known by this woman.
"Mufasa." Though his real name is Ted.
The "cool" girls. A forever friend made. She is one of the most amazing women I have ever encountered.
Roommates. And friends. I'm glad we live in the same city!
On Friday night I shared this snippet of a testimony of what the week had been like for me...."A few years ago I sat at a table across from a woman with tears streaming down her face, begging me to fight for my life. And this afternoon my group gave me words like 'warrior princess' and 'dragon slayer!'" This is that woman. And this time her tears for me were a different kind.
Words. An abundance of words that felt almost too glorious to receive.
The dancing. Oh there was dancing! I have told some that I danced for three hours on the carcass of the dragon that I slayed. (o:
And a new part of "The Journey" begins.
My heart is full, stirred, awakened, disrupted, grieved, overjoyed, broken, full of longing, and beaming and bursting open with HOPE.

A Dancer

Before I left for Michigan, I wrote THIS POST about dancing.

And I guess there is much I could share about my week there, but for now, all I have to share are a few blurry pictures of me.

And they are blurry because I am dancing.
And dancing.
And dancing.
And dancing.
One of the best nights ever. Because it was the first night I have ever really danced in my entire life.

I had much to celebrate that night. And I was free to dance. And so I did.