MY DEVISING

i don't wanna wait & how i learned to in 2018

2019-01-12T15:10:00.000-06:00

I started the first sentence of this entry probably 7 times because I haven't blogged in one million days. But hey, hi, I'm here, and I'll just start typing away!

I started 2018 off with the word Wait. As I look back on the post I wrote about this word, it's amazing to see how the Lord used it this year. Here's a little snippet from that post:

"It can be hard for us to trust that even when we're upstairs crying for whatever we think we need or about whatever dream needs fulfilling or about whatever situation needs solving, God is downstairs working things out. It takes faith to wait while God does the doing. It takes faith to wait when you're not really even sure what exactly he is doing. It takes faith to wait when you feel like he's not doing anything.

I don't love the word Wait because it seems too still and too inactive. And maybe that's exactly the point. Maybe God is wanting to pour some stillness into me, a person who loves to do, fix, and accomplish. What I'm sensing is that this year I need to remember that waiting is an option. And even a good option! Maybe I need to wait on God for answers before I hurry up with a YES. Maybe I need to wait on God to change something before I rush in to fix it myself. I don't know how it will play out or what it will mean, but the fact that it rubs me the wrong way just a little bit is a pretty good indication that I could use a little bit of waiting in my life."

In her Stress/Security talk a couple months ago, Suzanne Stabile said that Ones (my Enneagram number) need to ask themselves 3 questions before doing something:

1. What's it going to cost me if I do it?
2. What's it going to cost me if I don't do it?
3. What's it going to cost me if I wait?

What I learned this year is that choosing to wait simply out of principle and practice solved a lot of problems. Sometimes it's hard for me to imagine that waiting, being still, and not doing anything could actually be the best or the most productive thing I can do. By choosing to wait in several situations this year, conflicts resolved themselves in ways that I couldn't have planned for or even thought of. People changed their minds and decided on different things that I wouldn't have guessed. A lot of things just worked themselves out.

We tend to think of our choices as this or that. But really, there's a 3rd choice. There's a choice to wait, let things happen, and let God take care of it. I'm not suggesting that we stop being proactive and being problem solvers and accomplishing tasks, but I am suggesting that there is a balance. There's a time for all of it.

One of the biggest ways the word wait has played out is in the new part-time work I've recently started. In the beginning of 2018, I was feeling drained and exhausted, knowing I needed something to change but not knowing what that should be. I brainstormed what the fixes could be. More date nights? Get a babysitter one day a week? Start working outside of the home? Nothing felt right though. None of this was it.

Years ago, I remember being told that when you're confused about what's next or where the Lord is leading you, just go back to the last thing he told you. So I kept going back to my word for the year. Wait.

A few months into 2018, I began to notice a slight change as I became more involved volunteering at our church and working with other staff members on certain events and administrative things. There was a fulfillment and energy it gave me. It seemed that my previous feeling of being drained and exhausted was going away.

Fast forward to the summer. Through several situations, the Lord began to bring some things to the surface about what I believed about my gift of administration. I began believing it wasn't as important as the other gifts. It wasn't as spiritual. It wasn't as fun. People would rather be with someone who had any other gifting than this one. This one is structured and organized and rigid. People want chaos and mess, not order.

I spent a few weeks dialoging with the Lord about all of this. I realized that even though I wasn't fully aware I was believing all of those things, I was still living from that place. And because I was living out of this place, there was a feeling in me that I needed to prove myself, prove the importance of administration, prove the benefit of order.

It was in that time that Lord led to me this story in Acts 6. It starts out with, "But as the believers rapidly multiplied, there were rumblings of discontent." There were issues in the administering of a food program. The apostles recognized their attention needed to be on preaching and teaching, not on fixing these problems. So they found other men to take this on. Not just men who were organized and good at this sort of thing, but men who were also "well respected and full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom." As a result, not only were these men as well as the apostles released and available to act in their gifting, but "God's message was preached in ever-widening circles. The numbers of believers greatly increased ..."

After a while, those lies I had believed were replaced with truth and I really did believe them. I noticed a settling in my spirit and in my person about this. I didn't feel like I was proving anymore. There was a simple joy and calm confidence in acting in my gift of administration. Through the Lord's affirmation, I believed it was good, necessary, powerful, valuable, and spiritual.

In the fall, a couple of months after this new revelation and perspective, I was offered a part-time administrative-type position at my church. I was absolutely delighted and floored. It's not at all what I was looking for at the beginning of the year, but when it came my way this winter, it made all the sense in the world. It was exactly what the Lord had been leading me closer to. I couldn't believe what a good and perfect gift it was. That achy longing I had at the beginning of the year for something was placed in me for a reason. And this job was the Lord's answer to it.

I say it every year, but if you don't already do this, ask the Lord for a word for this year. It's really been a sweet part of my journey these last several years. (And I plan on looking at and recapping the last 5-6 years in a blog post at some point. So stay tuned for that!)

I'm so thankful I waited the whole year and that I didn't work with my hands to fix that longing as fast as possible. I'm thankful that the Lord speaks to us and gives us things to hold onto even when we don't know why we're holding on to it.

6 years ago & a podcast interview

2018-07-20T10:33:00.000-05:00

I was on the phone with my brother Mark the other night. I was talking about how I find myself still telling some of the same life stories.

It's not because I don't have new or recent stories to tell of what the Lord is doing in my life. I do. The Lord is pressing in with risks he's wanting me to take and speaking more in my dreams. He's working.

But I won't ever be done with the old stories. I won't outgrow them. They are a part of my Becoming and I was built out of and from these stories.

I find myself starting on this exact day, six years ago, with My Story. July 20th, 2012 was a new beginning. It was the day I experienced sheer darkness, fear, and panic in a way I'd never known. It was the day I knew what it felt like to be physically out of control.

But it was also the day the Lord answered my prayers of wanting more, of wanting breakthrough, of crying out feeling like there was a wall separating us, but not knowing what it was or how to get through it. I didn't know what would come of these prayers. I certainly wasn't expecting anxiety.

It was as if on that day God said, "I love you and I know you. I know your weak spots. I know your struggles. I know your love for control. I know your struggle with pride. I know the grip of fear in your life. I want to break in and stop this train before you crash."

I can only speak for my situation, but I do believe the Lord allowed me to experience anxiety because of the crazy love he has for me. He knew the ways I responded to life and the lessons I needed to learn and how I needed to learn them in order for them to stick. He knew what would happen if I never hit any sort of rock bottom. He knew I could wreck myself and my relationships. He knew I needed transformation.

I came out of that season stronger and with more compassion for myself and for others. And every time I am in a valley or dark spot in life, that is exactly how I come out every time. Not because I've maneuvered my way through it the "right way" or with grace, but because God is faithful and gracious and good.

I will never tire of telling the story of my anxiety or any of the stories in my life that point to God. I will never stop sharing them.

Several weeks ago, Heather, a woman I've known since middle school, interviewed me on her podcast. A few days ago, the episode was released and My Story was re-told all over again. I can't help but think how beautiful it is that the Lord orchestrated all of this to happen within a few days of the 6 year anniversary.

Along with panic attacks and anxiety, we also talked about motherhood, breastfeeding, songwriting, and how the Lord speaks to me in my dreams. It was such an honor to talk with her and it will be a sweet thing to always have these pieces of my life recorded in my own words, in my own voice.

I hope that you will give this podcast a listen and maybe even pass it along to someone who would find comfort in it. Someone who needs to hear another person recounting the struggles that they too are experiencing. Someone who yearns to feel that "Me too" that we all need.

And I hope you will decide that Your Story is worth telling, too.

Listen to my interview on the Uniquely Beautiful Stories podcast here:

iTunes || Player FM || Podomatic

permission to say the words

2018-06-08T16:09:00.000-05:00

My whole life, I never understood suicide. Not until I was reeling with anxiety, feeling the chaos in my mind as well as in my body.

I never had thoughts of suicide or self-harm, that is the truth. But I often thought, I just want to sleep. If I can just sleep then I won't have to feel any of this. I know the desire to escape. Most of us probably know that if we're honest. It looks different for all of us. We all escape in different ways and we do it in tiny ways every day if we're not careful.

I woke up this morning and read this in my devotional:

"Clouds have skirted in heavy from the west. The walls in the kitchen have fallen gray and silent. Joshua's playing it quietly, up and down the piano this morning, the Music Box Dancer. A friend laid out in great detail this weekend how the economy is about to implode. Chronic illness flares. Teenagers ask big questions. I keep smoothing out calendar pages, pushing things back ... What is the answer to anxiety? Joshua's playing so sure, the house lilting, tilting with happiness. That's what Calvin wrote. 'The stability of the world depends on this rejoicing of God in his works.' And again, 'If on earth, such praise of God does not come to pass, .... then the whole order of nature will be thrown into confusion.' Our worlds reel unless we rejoice." (Ann Voskamp)

After finishing those pages and jotting down a few thoughts in my journal, I looked at my phone and saw the news of Anthony Bourdain.

Just a couple of days ago, I posted this video. It's a clip of one of the songs I wrote in the time I was facing anxiety every day.

Soon after that I heard about Kate Spade.

All I can do is claim my experience and what I've learned. And that is this - Jesus saved me from my anxiety. And he is still saving me from it on the rare occasion that it still peeks its ugly head into my day. He didn't delete it. He didn't fix me in one fell swoop. He didn't make life suddenly perfect. But he was with me in it, walking next to me, assuring me of his presence, redeeming things. Were there other factors that helped me along the way? Absolutely. My friends, my church, my family, songwriting, counseling. But I know for sure that darkness could have overcome me if it weren't for the hope and joy that Jesus offers.

And aren't we all just one step away from darkness completely overcoming us? No one is exempt. The prettiest, the wealthiest, the most successful, the funniest, the most extroverted, the most famous. And to be sure that I'm clear - not even those of us who love Jesus and know Jesus and follow Jesus. We are not exempt from hearing the lie that the darkness would love for us to believe. That there's no need for us to be around.

The word I keep coming back to today is permission. Permission to say the words, "I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I don't feel like myself, I don't know if I want to live anymore, I need help, I don't know what to do."

Maybe some of us haven't done a good job of giving that permission to those around us. Can we hear those words from the person who is usually the life of the party? Can we hear those words from the person who has it all together all of the time? Can we hear those words from the person who is always the one that shows up, helps, and gives their time to meet others' needs?

Can we hear those words from the person who has talent, money, success, and fame? Can we hear them without wondering, "But he had all of these things! How could he possibly have been so miserable?" It is that very thought that keeps us thinking there is a formula for mental illness.

If we can hear these words from the people around us, I mean really hear them and allow them to be true without attempting to explain them away, I think things could begin to change.

For what it's worth, this is what I want to say to anyone who is struggling:

The world is not going to be better without you.
You are not a burden to anyone.
You are important and valued and wanted.
Things can and will change.
Tell someone how you feel.
There is hope.

the art of replacing

2018-04-19T14:57:00.000-05:00

(photo by Kelsi Pritchard Photography)

I'll just separate big kid toys and baby toys, I thought.

But small non-baby-friendly items always found their way to our floor and into Veda's mouth. I couldn't really prevent it. But one thing I could do was teach the big kids what kinds of things Veda could play with and what kinds of things we should take from her.

There were two ways to go about this. We could frustrate Veda and create conflict by ripping it away quickly, saying "No!", and going back to whatever we were doing. Or we could gently remove the toy from her hands, saying "No, no, Veda. Not for you," and then give her something better to replace it. I'm always telling Duke and Nova to be sure and give her something else when you take something away.

Several years ago, I learned the skill of replacing worry/fear/anxious thoughts in my mind with truth, with scripture, or, really, with just about anything else.

I used The Rule of 5 a lot when I was first learning how to fight those panicked feelings that would rise up in me. It was something I intuitively did before knowing it was an actual technique. I replaced whatever anxious thoughts were going on in my mind with what was actually happening around me by finding these things:

5 things you can see

4 things you can touch

3 things you can hear

2 things you can smell

1 thing you can taste

There were a few months in that same season of life when I would recite Psalm 91:9-10 in my head over and over every night until I fell asleep. Nights were hard because they were silent and still. If I wasn't intentional, I would end up in a dark place mentally.

We can't think about two things at one time, so understanding I had control over what I thought about and what I dwelled on was reassuring. It was hard work, yes, but it was not impossible work. And the reason it wasn't impossible was because I replaced what was harmful for me with what was life-giving.

It felt forced, disciplined, and even contrived sometimes. I didn't necessarily believe the truth or believe the scripture every single time. But it got me out of the pit and it set my gaze in the right direction. Eventually those things did become true and genuine. I felt them deep down in my soul. Eventually the art of replacing fear became a natural reaction when it crept up. I hardly even had to remember to do it.

I'm not in a different spot now because I simply stopped being fearful or I stopped thinking anxious thoughts. I'm in a different spot because I replaced (and replace) fear and anxious thoughts with something else. Of course, there will always be an opportunity to go down that familiar path. I am not exempt from facing fear and anxiety. However, I am set free from their grip and control. They are no longer running the show. And if I want to continue living free from fear and anxiety, something will always have to go in their place.

It seemed daunting to work through all of it right at first. I remember thinking, "I'm going to feel like this for the rest of my life." I couldn't see how life could change or be different. And I had a feeling that even if it could or would be, it would take a significant amount of work on my part and a complete surrender of my old life, old reactions, old thought patterns, and old habits. I would have to be reworked from the inside out. It would be exhausting.

But what I know to be true is that life with God is not a life of less. It's not a life of restriction or a life of rules. It is a life of more, a life of freedom. It's a freedom we can't quite understand sometimes because we have built up our own prisons that we've gotten really comfortable with.

I had become comfortable navigating the circumstances of life with fear-colored glasses, seeing the next problem, conflict, or scary situation on the horizon. I believed that if I thought through all the scenarios that could ever play out in life that I would somehow secure my future. I would be surprised by nothing, I thought. I believed that my knowledge of all of these possible plot twists somehow put me in control. That my ability to forecast all potential outcomes was some sort of guarantee that if something truly awful did happen, I would escape the full painful result of it simply because I had rightly predicted it. That it wouldn't affect me as much because I saw it coming.

This was the prison I had created for myself without knowing it. Deep within me was a desire to be safe, right, and unaffected by tragedy. And instead of running to God for my security, I built a prison of control with my own hands in an attempt to dodge disaster.

Of course, I had never identified any of these beliefs or lies until everything came crashing down. Until the panic attack.

That was something I hadn't planned for, something I hadn't seen on the horizon. I had missed it. I hadn't thought about that type of devastation as an option. And then it hit me. Even if I plan for all the really bad things I can come up with in my mind, I could still be blindsided by something else terrible. I had to come to the realization that I had absolutely zero control over my surroundings or the future, and that was terrifying.

But finally, because my illusion of control had been shattered, I was able to see clearly how I was operating out of fear. It was scary, but it was exactly what I needed.

God was teaching me to give up and surrender control and fear so that he could give me the really great things that would replace them. They would be things that were better for me, things that would not harm me the way those things would.

When God is asking us for something, it is because there is something better on the other side. God asks to take something from me so that he can replace it with something I can't give myself.

God asks for my Fear and replaces it with a Sound Mind.
God asks for my Anxiety and replaces it with Faith.
God asks for my Control and replaces it with Trust.
God asks for my Scarcity Mindset and replaces it with Give Us This Day, Our Daily Bread.
God asks for my Anger and replaces it with Patience.
God asks for my Self-Righteousness and replaces it with Humility.
God asks for my Judgement and replaces it with Compassion.
God asks for my Perfection and replaces it with Grace.
God asks for my Sin and replaces it with Freedom.
God asks for my Secrets and replaces it with Being Truly Known.
God asks for my Mundane and replaces it with Perspective.

If I let him in, he will build things in me I cannot build for myself.

I love Veda. If I take something from her hands, it is for her good. Instead of that tiny lego that Veda thinks she wants to choke on, I give her a toy cookie jar that lights up, sings songs, and teaches her shapes and numbers. And if she knew what I knew, she'd choose the cookie jar too.

I have learned and am continuing to learn that I can trust that the thing God is working on in me is for my greater good. It is for an outcome far better than I could imagine. And he wants to do the same thing for you.

*I've linked several other blog posts throughout this post in hopes that they will be helpful or encouraging to some of you. If you're interested reading all of my blog posts on the topics of anxiety, fear, or panic attacks, click here to see them all in one place.

expanding in 2017: a search for identity

2018-01-11T14:52:00.000-06:00

Watching The Lion King as an adult requires a few million more tissues than I needed when watching it as a child. The kids and I put it on one morning this past summer while Veda napped. The stampede scene got me as usual. But I didn't really fall apart until this moment later on in the movie:

Mufasa: Simba, you have forgotten me.
Simba; No! How could I?
Mufasa: You have forgotten who you are and so forgotten me. Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become ...
Simba: ... How can I go back? I'm not who I used to be.
Mufasa: Remember who you are. You are my son.

The Lord has been doing a work in me this past year surrounding the concept of identity. I have sensed it weaving through so many parts of my life.

It all started back in January when I read "The Road Back to You," an introductory book about the Enneagram. I wrote a post about the discovery of my One-ness here. It really blew my mind. I'd never encountered a personality assessment that was so spot on and so specific, yet so fluid. I love that it dives deep to uncover your motivations rather than staying on the surface to describe behavior. It's an extremely unique system because of the way it shows how personality types move to different areas in stress or security, the way a certain subtype or wing can flavor your personality, whether or not we take life in at the body, heart, or mind ... and I could go on.

Ultimately, the Enneagram is not about figuring out our numbers and planting our feet there. It's about figuring out what mask, or number, we've been wearing our entire lives and discovering how to uncover our true selves underneath it. It all truly fascinated me and I jumped right in to all things Enneagram.

I began to see things in myself I'd never known weren't "okay" or "normal." I recognized the critical voice I had in my head. I saw the desire in me to be good, to be liked, and to always be blameless. I saw how I prioritize doing the right thing, following the rules, and working hard and how sometimes, that prioritization can be a detriment to me or the people around me. I realized that the high expectations that I pressure myself with were also expectations I (many times unknowingly) held over others.

Fast forward a few months. From the time I had Veda in March and the months following, I experienced some disconnect. I felt lonely in a left-out-middle-school-girl kind of way. It wasn't a depression or an anxiety. It was something else. There were concrete events or situations that could have been blamed for my feelings, but none of these things were actually the root cause. Because of the helpful tool that the Enneagram was, I saw the way I was channeling a lot of the unhealthy side of a Four. I knew I needed to move through my feelings and get to the real issue at the bottom of all of it.

What I began to see is that my feelings were not a result of any particular circumstance. It was that my identity was not secure. I had put the weight of my identity in certain things, and when those things were taken or changed, I crumbled.

I started to desire a new revelation of God's love to me. Of being his daughter. It's one of those ideas I'd heard all my life, but it didn't do anything to me. And I knew that it should. I wanted to understand how and why it defines me and I wanted to know and feel what it means.

Towards the end of May, our pastor, AT, spoke on this very thing and it really resonated with me. In this sermon, he talked about how there is a difference between godly sorrow and guilt.

2 Cor. 7:10 "For the kind of sorrow God wants us to experience leads us away from sin and results in salvation. There's no regret for that kind of sorrow. But worldly sorrow, which lacks repentance, results in spiritual death."

AT went on to talk about guilt. Guilt makes obedience become compliance instead of obedience out of love. Guilt focuses on ourselves, seeking to be right and good. Guilt prevents love and intimacy. Guilt grows fear and hiddenness. Guilt prevents spiritual and emotional growth.

Yes. Obedience did feel like compliance. I did want to be right and good. I did feel a block in my relationship with the Lord.

Then he said, "You cannot outperform the guilt or inner critic in you. You have to love it out."

I was not allowing the Lord to love me perfectly. I was wanting to work and earn my way out of my own guilt.

(I want to interject here and explain what I mean by "guilt." Because we all see and react to the world differently, there are some of us that are more acquainted with guilt than others. Guilt for me looks like ending the day and thinking about how I wasn't as good of a mom as I should have been. It can mean reviewing all of my faults - got too upset with the kids today, yelled, lost my temper, wasn't attentive, was argumentative with Colt. It can mean feeling bad for not getting enough done. It can mean getting in a mode of comparison and thinking of all of the ways I don't measure up. I just wanted to spell some of that out because sometimes when we think of the word "guilt," we forget that it's not always huge crime-like acts that cause it. Guilt can creep its way into us in small ways and on a daily basis without even realizing it.)

Guilt was blocking me from knowing my identity.

Fast forward to book club in July. We decided to read Jennie Allen's "Nothing to Prove." In chapter 2, she talks about how God is not after our performance. This is another thing I'd heard a lot, mostly in my adulthood. But that whole idea felt stale to me. What does that mean? I wrote in my journal, "If I don't have my performance, then what do I even have?"

Gulp.

Performance was blocking me from knowing my identity.

There was some work to be done in me. In order for me to hear the Lord and process my thoughts, my hands usually have to be either writing words or playing the piano. So that's what I did.

What I decided is that it wasn't about trying to believe that my performance doesn't matter or working to not to feel guilty. It was about understanding how loved I was by God and receiving it. Right then. That's where I had to start. And in that love, there is no room for any of that other stuff. Being unconditionally and perfectly loved is the path to knowing my identity.

Once the fall rolled around, we began a Bible study at church and, as the Lord would have it, it was all about identity. What I walked away with was a better understanding of the choice that was in front of me. I can either walk in the Spirit or walk in the flesh. I can either walk in the new covenant with Jesus or walk in the old covenant of law and works. I can either walk ruled by love or walk ruled by fear. I can either walk as the righteousness of Christ or in my own self-righteousness. I have the choice to either put my anchor in my human identity or in my identity in Christ. And what I choose affects everything.

There was once a time in Simba's life when he knew his position in his father's kingdom, and he was excited about it. But all of that changed when he began to believe a lie. Scar planted a belief in his mind that he was to blame (there's that guilt again) for his father's death and that he should run away and never return. Everything shifted in Simba. His identity was no longer found in the fact that he was the son of Mufasa. It was found in what he did (there's that performance again). In his mistake.

We all crave a place to give us identity. It's deep in there, and we can walk around eating bugs and singing Hakuna Matata all that we want, but that will leave us feeling empty. Nothing is cured until we know where we belong. Simba was running away from the very thing that gave him his purpose. He was running away from being Mufasa's son, from being King. His position and purpose in life was found in that fact, so in refusing his Father, he refused knowing his true identity and worth.

We can find things to do and jobs to have and titles to hold. We can be celebrated and loved and held in high esteem. We can acheive things and work hard and get raises. But we will keep needing and wanting more until we realize that none of that defines us. None of that actually fills us to the point of needing nothing else. There are a lot of wonderful things in this world that God has given us, but nothing is as good as a relationship with him. Nothing can fulfill the craving we have for identity and belonging except for our position as loved children of God. Nothing else can so clearly define our purpose, give us energy, spur us on, and provide power and rest like knowing we are children of God. Simba on his own held no power, but Simba as a son of the King held all the power.

Self-care is a big deal these days. And the best self-care you can give yourself is to discover your identity in Christ. To discover that you are perfectly loved all of the time. To discover that you are not the things you do. To discover that your mistakes do not define you. To discover that you are offered grace at every single turn. To discover that you are not and will not ever be abandoned. To discover that you are an adopted child of God. It is only in that revelation that we are able to then turn outward to the people around us and offer love, grace, compassion, forgiveness, and understanding. This is a picture of Jesus. This is the manifestation of Heaven here on Earth. This is how we change the world.

My word for 2017 was "Expand." And just as I had assumed, it wasn't only about expanding our family or our home. It was about expanding my understanding of who I am in Christ. There is still a lot to figure out and there always will be, but I'm so thankful for what God has revealed to me this year about myself through the people around me, my pastor, my Bible study teacher, and the Enneagram. My motivations, my emotions, the way I think, the way I take in the world around me, the automatic reactions I have to my surroundings, my inner critic, my identity - all of the knowledge I've gained about those things has been life changing.

I've been praying and thinking on my word for 2018. On the morning of the 31st, I felt the Lord highlight the word Wait. I took note, but went on with my morning as usual. It wasn't but maybe an hour later, I was in the kitchen making a bottle for Veda. She was up for the day, fussing in her crib, and ready to eat. I had the thought, If she only knew I was down here getting her bottle ready, she wouldn't be crying. She would be fine waiting.

Right after that thought passed through my mind, I realized that Wait was most certainly the word.

It can be hard for us to trust that even when we're upstairs crying for whatever we think we need or about whatever dream needs fulfilling or about whatever situation needs solving, God is downstairs working things out. It takes faith to wait while God does the doing. It takes faith to wait when you're not really even sure what exactly he is doing. It takes faith to wait when you feel like he's not doing anything.

I don't love the word Wait because it seems too still and too inactive. And maybe that's exactly the point. Maybe God is wanting to pour some stillness into me, a person who loves to do, fix, and accomplish. What I'm sensing is that this year I need to remember that waiting is an option. And even a good option! Maybe I need to wait on God for answers before I hurry up with a YES. Maybe I need to wait on God to change something before I rush in to fix it myself. I don't know how it will play out or what it will mean, but the fact that it rubs me the wrong way just a little bit is a pretty good indication that I could use a little bit of waiting in my life.

So, 2018, I wait. I look forward to seeing what God will do.

cloudy days & perspective

2017-11-13T15:09:00.000-06:00

"I want to watch the rain."

I looked up from my yogurt and noticed Nova scooting her chair over to the window at my parents' house. Then, without any prompting and to nobody in particular, Nova said, "God, thank you for the rain."

Gloomy days were always my least favorite kinds of days. I experienced an internal change when the sky was filled with clouds and the sun refused to shine. My mental state was different. I was grouchy, tired, and sad. It was hard to get motivated. I remember it feeling this way most of all in college. Something about those days pulled me into a depression-like state.

But all of that changed when I started dating Colt.

I remember explaining all of this to him. His experience was the opposite. He found those days inspiring and dreamy in all of their melancholy and gloominess.

After we got married, we had this conversation again with his parents. His mom, Jill, said she used to feel the exact same way until Colt's dad changed it for her. On those cloudy days, they'd escape to a coffee shop and make a date of it. Over time, those days began to feel different to her.

Colt and I decided to take their advice and try that method out. We would hop in the car after work and go to Starbucks or Cuppies & Joe and turn what felt like lemons to me into lemonade. Sure enough, those depressing days turned to exciting, cozy ones.

Now it's hard for me to go back and remember what it felt like to dread the overcast sky. Those skies are a gift to me now. I find myself in a different mode when the sun isn't bursting through. I move slower and I don't do as much. I might read a book or I might spend more time writing at the piano. I might remember to do things I typically don't do when the sky makes me feel like I need to go, go, go. No offense to the sun. I love our sunny days. But for someone who loves to do and make things happen, a cloud-filled sky seems to change my agenda. It causes me to slow down and rest.

All it took was a new perspective. A new way of looking at something I'd seen one way all my life. It took intentionality and time, but it happened. And I changed.

Several mornings ago, Duke said, "Mom, you know what I was just thinking about? About how when I was in your tummy and you didn't have any kids and you were so sad and didn't have anything to do. And then I came out of your tummy. And then Nova came out of your tummy. And then Veda came out of your tummy. And now you have so many helpers!"

So many helpers. That's certainly one of way of looking at things. Talk about perspective!

On this cloudy fall day, I'm reminded of how powerful our thoughts are. We aren't stuck. We get to change the way we think about things.

What about you? What do you need to re-frame? What places do you need a refreshed perspective?

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable." Phil 4:7

a celebratory goodbye to nursing

2017-08-24T13:59:00.000-05:00

{I don't feel any obligation or pressure to share my reasons for nursing or not nursing my children. It's just something I want to do. Because of how things went with Nova, I want to share how everything went this time around. Not everybody cares to talk about their own experience with feeding their babies, and that's fine! And along with that, not everyone cares to read about why people choose what they choose. But this piece of my motherhood has impacted me on a spiritual level, and I feel like it's a story that doesn't just give details about feeding decisions. It's a story that points to God, his goodness, and his knowledge of what is best for us even when we don't understand.}

Things were off from Day 1.

I had hoped nursing would work this time around. But for some reason, I knew it wouldn't.

The entire pregnancy, I held loosely to the idea of nursing. I had learned that it doesn't matter how much I know about nursing. If my baby can't or won't do it, then that's that.

Veda wasn't satisfied with feedings from the moment I met her. The hospital is usually a dreamy place for me. People checking on me, taking care of my baby, and bringing me food all while I stay horizontal? Sign me up! But Veda wasn't happy. I would nurse for 30-45 minutes and sometimes she was satisfied. A lot of times she wasn't. So I'd try nursing again. After that point, she would cry and I would "shhh" and rock her until she gave into sleep. And usually, she would only fall asleep if she was on me. Putting her down in the hospital bassinet was not an option most of the time.

It was similar to our hospital stay with Nova, but the intensity was turned up a few notches this time. I figured it was just an eating issue. I thought, Once my milk comes in, this will probably change. This 10 lb. baby just needs some milk!

We had her on a Friday morning and headed home Saturday afternoon. Things got worse. She could not stay asleep in her crib at any point, day or night, for more than 25 minutes. It was miserable. We spent hours and hours going in and out of her nursery, trying to soothe her, trying to figure out the problem. And even in all of our trying, the fact that she was not immediately soothed or even calmed when we picked her up was a big red flag. Day after day, night after night, this continued.

All of this built up to one horrible night that Colt and I will never forget. Veda was inconsolable. No amount of nursing would satisfy. In the early morning hours, after no sleep, we decided to give her a bottle of pumped milk.

Immediate difference.

At our 5 day appointment that morning, the scale showed exactly what we had thought. Our sweet baby had lost a notable amount weight and was hungry - a problem that is so awful and heart-wrenching but also wonderfully simple to solve. Just like with Nova, I was making more than enough, but she couldn't get it from me.

"She's just not getting enough."

The doctor could barely get the words out before I said, "Okay! Well, that's good to know!" My excitement might've caught him off-guard, but in that moment I felt an amazing rush of relief. He kindly suggested we set up an appointment with lactation. But I knew we wouldn't. We wouldn't do that again. No, I would walk out of his office with a bottle-fed baby and I would be so thrilled about it.

I'll never forget the way I felt as we drove home that morning. We had said a celebratory goodbye to nursing and, thanks to the Lord and my journey with sweet Nova, I did it with freedom, ease, and excitement.

My plan was to pump as long as I could. Well, I guess I've learned a thing or two about giving myself grace because "as long as I could" translated into 3 days. This was a busy and stressful time for our family. Pumping wasn't worth it.

That sneaky voice tried to push its way in a few times with "Can't you just sacrifice and pump for this baby? Even just for a month? Are you that selfish?" But I knew what was on the line. My sanity, my time with my children, my freedom, my rest. All of those things take priority over breastmilk.

The first day of bottles couldn't have been more different than the days before it. She was full, happy, and content. She slept in her crib and took amazing naps.

Also worth noting? That same day, we got an offer on our house after just 12 days on the market. It was a red letter day.

Our experience with feeding Veda made me so thankful for our struggles with Nova. I fought hard and pushed and doubted God. It was a long battle and the Lord knew I needed to fight it then. This time with Veda, it needed to be a fast decision with quick answers. With a toddler running around, a 5 year old to take to pre-k, selling our house, packing everything we own, and then moving, it was clear that fighting for breastfeeding just wouldn't make the cut.

I had already seen so much purpose, reason, and redemption behind our journey with Nova, but the Lord wasn't done with it. And that's why, to me, it was worth another blog post. Even though all of those emotions from 3 years ago are gone and healing has taken place, I want to remember that God is still finding new ways to re-purpose that whole experience. And he's not done re-purposing your thing either. The circumstance that you're in or the circumstance that's over. We can have full confidence that God really does know what he's doing as he's weaving our stories.

five years ago

2017-07-20T11:18:00.001-05:00

Five years ago, I went on a triple date with some of my closest friends. I ended up having my first ever panic attack which set the stage for a journey with anxiety.

Five years ago, I woke up thinking one way about mental illness and went to bed thinking another.

This particular story in my life is one of my favorites to tell because it tells of both the powerful nature of God and the practical nature of God. I think that sometimes we feel like we have to side with one, and that's just not the case. God is a supernatural healer yet he also allows us to work and fight through our struggles.

I will never forget the night that I felt the supernatural healing of God. I was experiencing and had been experiencing the symptoms of anxiety for five days at that point. I was shaky, my heart was racing, and my chest was burning. All the classic anxiety markers. And in that moment in bed when I had a revelation of what the Lord was doing in my life, it was as if a fresh wind blew over me. Every symptom immediately left.

But I wasn't miraculously healed for good. There was still work to be done. I saw a counselor, I recited scripture over and over in my head to fall asleep at night, my community prayed for me, my friends rallied around me, my family supported me, my church offered a safe place for me, and my husband walked every single step of it with me. I trusted and believed in the Lord's healing power, but I also had to trust the Lord's healing process.

I know mental illness has gone from being a thing we don't talk about to almost being a "fad." To someone unfamiliar with it, it may seem like it's all being blown out of proportion. But I assure you that there's nothing wonderful about feeling like your mind isn't right, and it truly is just as awful as we all make it out to be.

But the hope is this - there is a Healer who wants to walk in it with us. His plan could include healing, hard work, counseling, medicine, prayer, practical coping strategies, or memorizing scripture. There is a place for all of it and no one journey looks the same.

As I was driving today, I got teary thanking God for where he has brought me. Back in 2012, I couldn't have imagined there being a time when I would feel normal in my mind or body. It's so good to look back and remember. Reminding our souls of the faithfulness of God is powerful. Sometimes it is that simple act of reminding that pushes us forward in dark stretches where there seems to be no hope or light.

I don't look back on all of it with fondness, but I do look back on it with thankfulness. It was hard and painful work, but it changed me. July 20th will always remind me of the Lord's goodness, the importance of compassion for others' stories even when we don't understand, and the circle of amazing people that pulled me through a dark season.

We all have a story to tell. Yours may feel small. Mine feels small. But the conversations I've gotten to have with people over the years because of it have been big. I will keep telling this story until I have no fingers to type it and no breath to say it, not because it boasts of me but because it boasts of God.

Tell your story. Your story could be the beginning of someone else's.

{I have shared a lot about anxiety on my blog and you can read any of those posts here. To read the story of the panic attack and the days following, click here and scroll down to the bottom to start at the first post.}

veda's birth story

2017-06-29T13:46:00.001-05:00

I labored for 3 full days. (In case you missed that post, you can find it here.)

It's strange - living in the world among people and doing the usual things I do while feeling so completely unusual. Those days of laboring and contracting took place in their own dimension. It's otherworldly to me, and it felt like that with Nova too. It's a weird and quiet kind of reverent feeling. Not necessarily serious or miserable (until, of course, it gets serious and miserable). But it's solemn. It feels tender and strong both physically and mentally. I feel the urge to be still and rest as much as I can to store up energy. It's similar to a fever. Not feverish in the way it feels, but feverish in the sense that all you want is for everything stay in place and remain peaceful. Not a lot of movement, not a lot of noise, not a lot of commotion.

It seems like it'd be almost impossible for an environment to feel like that with two other kids around, but they knew things were different. They were their usual 2 and 5 year old selves all throughout those 3 days, but once they saw my hands reach out to the closest piece of furniture, my body bent over, and heard my breathing, they came to my side quietly and rubbed my back. I would nod my head as they asked, "Mom, are you having a 'constraction'?" They had been watching how Colt responded to me and decided to react in the same way. It was really precious.

On Friday morning, March 10th, at 3:45 a.m. we had been at the hospital for around 30 minutes. Once we signed our names on some initial paperwork, the nurse checked me and I was a 5. A five! I was so relieved and so excited. By 4 a.m., we were in a room and by 4:30 a.m., I was a 6 and fully effaced. My doctor came in around this time and broke my water. As soon as we got settled, I told the nurse I'd like an epidural whenever they could get around to it.

It was totally my plan to try for another natural birth like I had with Duke, but I also didn't want to labor all the way to a 9 and stall for 3 hours like I did with Nova. Getting an epidural at a 9 was not something I wanted to repeat. And because I had been up with practically zero sleep for the past 72 hours, there was no way that I had the energy, stamina, or mental power to continue laboring. Opting for an epidural was a no-brainer. I needed that bed and I needed those drugs and I needed some rest.

Several of Bethany Barnard's songs made it onto my labor playlist. "Your praise is an ocean, and my troubles are a puddle"

At 5:00 a.m., I got the epidural. Praise God from whom all epidurals flow. Around 7:15 a.m., our nurse, Jody, was about to start pitocin as another nurse was checking me. But once they saw that I was a 9.5, they realized there was no need for pitocin. They could summon the troops. (My doctor had a root canal scheduled for that morning, so there were at least two of us that wanted this baby out as soon as possible.)

Contracting as the epidural was kicking in

After about 5-10 minutes of pushing, our sweet Veda arrived at 8:07 a.m. on Friday, March 10th, 2017.

She was identical to Nova when she came out except for that full head of BROWN hair. My heart leapt when I saw it! She was a dream come true. All of the nurses began commenting on her size and I thought, Eh, she looks average. Then I heard the nurse shout, "10 lbs. 1 oz.!" from the scale. I laughed and thought no wonder it hurt to walk! Later on, they measured her length and she was 22 inches. Colt noted, "She's almost halfway to a Frontier City ride!"

Duke had his spring pre-k program that morning, hence the dots on his face. :)

To me, Veda's birth story is the least dramatic of the three. It was the longest labor and there were exhausting and painful hours when I felt really desperate, but the hospital part of it? E-a-s-y. By the time I got to that point, I was planning on getting an epidural so there was nothing to question or decide. I knew after 3 full days of contractions that this birth would resemble the others, but most certainly Nova's. This wasn't going to be one of those "My 3rd baby just slipped right out!" stories. All signs were pointing to a long and hard and 3-hours-to-change-1-centimeter kind of birth. Because I had experienced a natural birth and an almost natural birth that was absolutely crazy, it made sense to take a completely different route. What if I sat in the hospital bed and hung out and waited to dilate? I could hardly fathom it!

I love that they each have their own special story. One was by the book, one threw the book out the window and set it on fire, and one gently reminded me that the book doesn't exist. Although my birth experiences didn't come without a handful of doubts, disappointments, and, ultimately, life lessons alongside them, my dreams came true. The Lord wanted my story and these kids' stories to look this way. I have three healthy children and there was not one moment in any of their labors or deliveries that was an emergency. That right there is a blessing and a miracle, and I will never take it for granted.

We are so thankful for our sweet Veda making us a family of 5.

Photos taken by the lovely Sara Young
Read Nova's birth story here and Duke's birth story here.

the days before veda

2017-05-25T10:18:00.002-05:00

Recording and writing about the day of and the days surrounding my kids' births is one of my favorite things to do. Their birth stories (Duke's, Nova's) foreshadowed so much of their personalities. I think it's so wonderful that even from day 1 we began to get glimpses of who they would become. Veda's labor and birth seems to fall somewhere in the middle of Duke and Nova. She wasn't as stubborn as Nova, nor as prompt as Duke.

I'll start at her due date which was a week before she actually showed up. Each day, I jotted down some thoughts, notes, or happenings.

FRIDAY, MARCH 3RD

Veda's due date, March 3rd, came and went just like Nova's due date. It seems that of all the days I've ever been pregnant, the due date is the day that the most people happen to ask, "So when are you due?" They never expect to hear, "Well, today!"

I woke up, took the kids to school, met up with my mom for a mani/pedi, went to my church for a meeting, and then ran some errands. That evening, Colt and I got to squeeze in one last date.

I had registered to go to a conference the next morning, but as I went to bed that night, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. How do I want to spend what I assumed would be my last Saturday morning before a new baby? I thought through it as I fell asleep. One of the hard things for me to sacrifice during newborn season is not getting out as much as I want to. For me, getting my babies on good schedules with dependable rest and feedings takes priority. So that gave me my answer. I planned on waking up and heading out the door first thing in the morning.

SATURDAY, MARCH 4TH

I walked into the church that morning with my 40 weeks plus 1 day belly and all the chaos that comes with buying a house and having yours on the market. One guitar strum into the conference and I found myself weepy. There was a lot going on in life, yes, but more than that, I was feeling the sweet, weird, other-dimension-like tenderness of living past your due date. I was a prime candidate for tears.

It's funny that something I was so unsure about attending ended up being a pretty precious milestone for me. I was challenged in the very thing that was coming my way - a new season.

I am constantly at battle with myself to do more or to do less. I've learned that my natural tendency is to say yes and to commit to more than I should, or at least more than is good for my sanity. Because of that, I've learned to say no and to really try and weigh what takes priority. However, I've also recognized that the enemy can be behind that voice. I can think I'm doing a good thing by saying no or not jumping into something when really it's just fear of the unknown, fear of taking a risk, fear of crowding my plate too much. Not my new habit of guarding my time.

It's not like I walked away with a whole new direction on my life, but I walked away with a little more kindness towards that thing in me that so quickly and eagerly wants to jump up and raise my hand at every request in life. It was good for me to go against my natural grain these past few years by practicing the word "no." I have to remember that no is an option and that it's good for me. But it's also good for me to embrace the healthy version of being someone who says yes and fills life up with what the Lord is asking me to fill it up with.

Being busy isn't innately bad. Like everything, it has to be monitored, balanced, and moderated. What can be bad is the kind of busy that we are. A life of world-induced busy or Claire-induced busy isn't going to feel satisfying or allow for rest, but a life of Lord-induced busy will.

SUNDAY, MARCH 5TH

Colt and I got to play one last time together this Sunday at church. Not being able to play/sing on Sundays together is one of the things I miss a lot when I have a new baby. It was sweet that we got one more chance to do it.

MONDAY, MARCH 6TH

I went on a get-the-baby-out walk this night with Tally and Sara. I've done these walks with each of my kids and it's been interesting to see what has come, or hasn't come, from them. After the walk that night, I sat on my birthing ball for an hour or so. Throughout the day, I did a few side lying releases, a suggestion from my fancy midwife friend, Jenni. I also started popping those Evening Primrose Oil pills.

Colt and his man-bun assisting me in a few side lying releases.

I finally got my bag and the kids' bags packed for whenever Veda decided to show up. You know, things you should probably check off the list three days after your due date.

TUESDAY, MARCH 7TH

I had one of those still-asleep-but-awake moments early this morning when I thought, I'm having a contraction, but I don't have to wake up for it. After a handful of contractions in that state, I finally jolted awake at 5:15 a.m. with a contraction that had a little more sting to it. However, I could still lie in bed and breathe quietly through it. And that's how they continued for the next 2 hours in bed. I had about 7 of them, 15-30 minutes apart.

I got up that morning and realized there were some other signs that things were moving along. Contractions continued the rest of this morning, but only every hour or hour and a half.

I had an appointment at 11:45 a.m. that day and was excited to tell of my labor beginning. I had dilated to a 1 at 36 weeks and a 2 at 37 weeks. I stayed at a 2 until this day, 40 weeks plus 4 days. My doctor told me I was 70% effaced and dilated to a 3. A THREE. I had already been amazed at how much I'd progressed so far, but hearing this was beyond exciting.

Around 3:30 p.m. that afternoon, contractions got closer together and happened every 15-30 minutes until 11:30 p.m. that night.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 8TH

I woke up with a contraction at 1:30 a.m. and had one every 45 minutes to an hour throughout the rest of the morning.

Around 2:00 p.m., they took a turn and got a little more painful. They occurred anywhere from 9-30 minutes apart and the intensity had grown by the time we went to bed that night.

My parents kept the kids overnight because I really thought this was it. Colt and I took a late night walk, hoping to rev everything up. However, the reverse happened, as they began to spread out a little more.

We went to bed late that night. Contractions continued and, while I was able to drift off to sleep in between them, I did have to get out of bed to stand up and breathe through each one.

THURSDAY, MARCH 9TH

Around 4 a.m., I moved to the bath. Lights were off, candles were lit, music was playing, and I was contracting every 6-10 minutes for awhile. After an hour and a half, they began spreading out a bit more, so I decided to finish the night in the living room.

That morning, we decided to head to the hospital. It was around 9:30 a.m. and although I felt ready, I also felt strange. I shouldn't be headed to the hospital in the daylight to have a baby. That's such a nighttime-while-everyone-is-asleep kind of activity. There's something weird about this. But contractions were pretty painful and around 8-9 minutes apart, so we went.

As things like this go, we stepped into the hospital and the contractions spread out. We were there for a total of 2.5 hours and I only had 4 contractions in that time. Also, the nurse informed me that I was still dilated to a 3. "You said I'm still a 3?" I had to make sure I was hearing her clearly. It had been 2 full days of labor since my last appointment when I was a 3. All of that and no progressing? It was hard to believe, but I did light-heartedly tell her, "You know, I knew this couldn't be it because it was daytime. I don't go into active labor when the sun is out."

She asked if I wanted to get induced. As much as I wanted this baby out and these contractions to stop, I said no.

A few days earlier, I had a dream that was so vivid. I dream a lot and so many of my dreams have real meaning. God gives me direction or reveals something or gives me some kind of encouraging word/picture/story for someone else. Many times, even seemingly silly or strange dreams have significance. So over the years, I've learned to pay attention. I won't go into the details of the dream, but I felt very strongly that I should trust what I was sensing and opt out of getting induced.

This left me with no other option than to go home. I had to keep laboring and keep doing what I was doing which, at this point, felt like a form of torture. I'd never gotten labor "wrong." It was surprising to me that with the way my body felt I wasn't further along. I was exhausted and hitting my emotional breaking point.

Colt and I got in the car and I cried a lot. We drove through Cane's to grab lunch and the sweet young girl working the drive-thru said, "Whoa, you're about to pop!" It made me want to cry more - not because she had offended me, but because I was thinking, Well, you'd think so!

Colt drove me to my parents' house where the kids were and then he headed back to work. Contractions were very painful and came every 6-10 minutes throughout the evening. There were also some additional signs that labor was picking up and things were changing.

We had the kids stay with my parents overnight again because I was certain there couldn't be another day of this. There was just no way.

We headed home and decided to sleep on the two couches in our living room because it was much easier for me to pop up and contract from there. At the nurse's suggestion, I took a Tylenol PM to keep me drowsy enough so I could fall asleep in between contractions. I also kept the low murmur of HGTV on in the background to help distract from the pain. The contractions continued throughout the night around every 10-12 minutes.

It was a slow and quiet night with not many words to each other. For most of my contractions, Colt, a normally heavy sleeper, heard my movements as I got up to stand. By the time I let out my first breath, he was next to me. I will always hold some sweet memories from this night.

FRIDAY, MARCH 10TH

The pain took another turn. I was absolutely certain this wasn't going to slow down. We were going to have a baby. We left for the hospital around 3 a.m.

36 weeks - thoughts, reflections, and excitement

2017-02-02T17:04:00.000-06:00

This pregnancy is coming to an end. (Well, I use "end" loosely. I'm 36 weeks tomorrow and, while I don't wish to go 13 days over again, I'm not ruling it out of the possibilities.) Although I won't miss breathing heavily, the nightly heartburn, and the constant need to pee, I will miss Veda being in my belly. I really like and enjoy being pregnant even if it means I get fat face, my voice changes, and I have to do gymnastics to put on my pants.

For those of you who know my life (or who read this blog), you may remember that Duke came on his due date and Nova came 13 days late. Because their birth stories turned out to be so absolutely and perfectly matched with their personalities, I am so curious to see what this little babe will do. Will she be full of surprises? Will she be "nice and easy," as Nova once claimed over her? Will she be stubborn? Will she be early? Will she be late? Will my labor be any easier than the other two?

I have no answers to these questions, but I love not having answers. I love this part - the wondering and the waiting. I wish that at any point in my life, I could jump back into being 36+ weeks pregnant for just a few minutes to feel these unique feelings of anticipation.

But even beyond the last days of pregnancy, the labor, and the childbirth, I am so excited to see our family of five take shape.

I know there are plenty of things I could be worried about. How will everyone adjust? Will Veda nurse? Will Nova do okay suddenly not being the only girl? Will we all lose our minds in this house? Can I really tote 3 kids around all by myself? Etc. But honestly, I haven't worried about this stuff that much. I have talked about it and thought about it, but I haven't really worried about it. I guess that's maybe part of the third-time mom gig though. There are things you know and can plan for, and then there are things you just have to let happen. So instead of losing sleep over worrying, I have mostly lost sleep over the things I'm most excited about.

I am excited for that first moment of meeting Veda. "Meet" doesn't even really work as the word to describe it. I mean, how do you describe the moment when you finally see the baby you've been dreaming about, planning for, talking about, and carrying for 9 months? "Meet" hardly does it justice. It's one of the most beautiful, most overwhelming, most perfect moments in all of life.

I am excited to watch Colt. I love watching Colt in new-dad mode. The way he carries me through the labor and delivery, the way he pushes through exhaustion to support me, the way he jumps up to change all the diapers and fill all the requests I make of him, the way he cares for me. It's odd because it's the most tiring season of all of life, but it's also romantic and dreamy.

I am excited to watch the kids experience all of it. To see Duke become a big brother again, but with a completely different perspective and understanding this time. To see Nova practice her mommy-ing skills on a real little person. To see both of them step into new roles, new responsibility, and new big-ness.

I am excited to see this house burst at the seams. It's something I don't think I ever imagined when we bought it. I envisioned having kids here I guess, but not necessarily three of them. There's something sweet about using up every inch of every floor and every shelf of every closet. While moving and getting a little more space is something we'd love to do at some point, we are patiently waiting for the right house and for God's timing. Until then, the five of us will be here together.

I am excited to see who I become. With each child - the pregnancy, the delivery, the first months - God is very intent on teaching me things. He chisels away at me, working through the grime of my sin and wrong beliefs. He teaches me about his character and he teaches me about mine. It might sound strange, but I like myself better with each new baby he has given me. I like where 30 year old Claire is way better than 25 year old Claire. Each new baby has made me a better person, a better wife, a better mom, and a better friend. Don't misunderstand me - I can list all of my flaws and struggles out for you quite easily. But there's a lot of self-awareness that comes to the surface in newborn land. God does some meaningful work in me through motherhood and, while I don't necessarily enjoy the learning process it takes to get there, I am always thankful for it. What a beautiful thing it is that God uses the blessing and the weight of most wonderful gifts to mold me into who I should be.

Veda Claire

2017-01-30T15:38:00.000-06:00

I was thinking we might actually birth this baby before giving her a name, but I'm glad to have settled on one beforehand. Baby #3 has officially been named Veda (pronounced Vayduh) Claire.

The first time I ever heard the name Veda was on the movie "My Girl." (Although hers was spelled Vada.) The second time I heard it was in college. There was a band named Veda (now Vedera) that I really liked. But it wasn't until we were sifting through girl names this time around that I saw it and thought it belonged on our list to consider. I remember loving the sound of that name as a little girl and I still feel the same about it today. Claire was an obvious choice for us for her middle name. I love that her name will carry a piece of me.

Veda means knowledge or understanding and Claire means bright, clear, or shining. I love the combination of all of those things, and I will be praying them over her. That she will be a person who has a clear understanding of who she is and who God is. That she will have a gift to discern and know things that may feel confusing or unclear to the people or world around her. That her ability to understand people or situations produces a big heart of compassion in her. That she will be a bright representation of the character of God so that others come to a knowledge of him through her.

Veda Claire, we love you so much already. See you soon.

looking back on grace, looking forward to expand

2017-01-18T16:28:00.000-06:00

I just re-read my post from last year about grace, which was my word for 2016. It was an interesting read because I had forgotten how I felt coming into this past year. I can't really put my finger on it or give some life-changing revelatory moment that shifted my thinking, but I do know that things have changed. That doesn't mean I've mastered this art, of course. Giving myself grace and allowing myself room to make mistakes or change plans will always be a challenge of mine. (After all, I'm a 1 on the Enneagram. It will be a lifelong mission.) But I do know that God has worked in me this past year and I'm thankful to be in a new place.

As I enter into 2017, there's more of a comfort in knowing I can't do it all or be it all. God has never asked me to. And no one else has either. It doesn't feel like "giving up" anymore to pick what's important to me, do it, and then say goodbye to the rest. (Jen Hatmaker's chapter in "For the Love" about picking what's on your beam was really helpful and encouraging to me if you happen to find yourself stuck in that conundrum.) Ultimately, the choice in 2016 was to decide what I would believe. Would I believe what the world says - that having it all is really important? Would I believe the perfectionist or inner critic that can lurk inside of me? Or would I believe what God says about me, my life, my gifts, and my purpose? I must've opted for the latter more often than not because I felt lighter leaving 2016.

When I look back on the year, I think of two specific seasons when I reacted in a typically "out of character" way for me, proving that God was doing things in me and shifting my mindset.

First, I think about how releasing an EP with my band, Mopak, was a set plan for this past year. It was on the horizon with a very clear path leading up to it. These songs had been birthed in me during the recent years and I felt like they were ready to share. I was so excited to tell this story. As a band, we were writing, practicing a handful of times each month, and even playing places. (I know, a band playing gigs! It's revolutionary! But it actually was for us.) Everything was going as planned. Until it wasn't. We kept having to push our recording date back, the songs weren't completely ready, things were feeling rushed, and, to top it all off, our Kickstarter didn't get funded. Things stopped falling into place and it just didn't feel right to shove them there. Aside from all of that, our bassist was awaiting the arrival of baby #4 and I had just gotten pregnant with baby #3. It was obviously time for another shift from band mode to baby mode.

It wasn't a devastating time, but I was pretty sad to put that project on the back burner. However, it surprisingly took me less time to get over this disappointment than I would've imagined. Typically, my response would've been to sulk for weeks, contemplate the meaning of my life, doubt my skills, question my ability to do what I say I'm going to do, and internally punish myself for not meeting my very desired goal. But I knew deep down that if and when the Lord wanted this music to be finished, he would make it happen. Thanks to God, Colt, and my people, I was able to move on pretty quickly from this let down.

I hadn't revisited any of these thoughts or emotions until our pastor said something a few Sundays ago. He was listing off different life circumstances or feelings that might resonate with us. I sat at the piano feeling disconnected from all of them. Until he got to the last one. "I feel like I need to remind some people in the room that a dream delayed is not a dream destroyed." My eyes immediately filled with tears as I thought about this delayed musical dream. On the one hand, I'm living out the dream of having a third baby. But I am still holding this project in my other hand. There's a tension that exists in holding both and waiting. Yet, what a sweet reminder that this dream has not been destroyed. Who knows all of God's reasons for delaying it, but I trust he has some good ones.

So as I moved out of this season with the band, I moved straight into the first trimester of this pregnancy, my second example of when grace just had to win. I was an exhausted mom of two living with constant nausea, aversions, cravings, and intense emotions. Needless to say, a lot of things fell by the wayside. A bin of clean laundry to fold resided in our living room as if it were a piece of furniture. Many days, dishes were in the sink when Colt came home from work, which is not how I typically operate. We spent more money on going out to eat than we ever do. To-do lists were made and items weren't crossed off. I felt like I was a zombie going through life most days. And while I didn't do everything right in that season of life, I will say that I really did my best to not beat myself up about my lack of energy and accomplishments. I jumped into grace and made a nice little home there while my body was forming this new little baby. As someone who values hard work (sometimes a little too much), I am grateful for the reminder that my worth is not determined by the amount of household tasks I get done in a day. That's a hard one to remember as a stay-at-home mom.

2016 was a great year and I'm glad I got a bit closer to understanding what it looks like to live under the umbrella of grace instead of expectations, goals, and plans.

I have been thinking and praying about what my word would be for 2017 and I feel like the Lord gave me the word Expand. I type this word as my arms curl around the expanding belly in front of me. It's obvious that I'm expanding, but I think my belly is just one of the many ways I will experience expansion in the coming year.

My heart is expanding as it stretches and loves a new member of our family. Our family number count is expanding. Our home is expanding to squeeze 5 people in it. My capacity will expand to handle and manage three children each day instead of two. My perspective and mind will expand as dreams and hopes may look differently than planned or require a different timeline. And I have no doubt that the Lord has some ideas of his own around the idea of expansion. I am always a work in progress, figuring out what parts of me to hold on to and what parts of me to let go of, change, and allow the Lord to work on.

I am looking forward to an exciting year that will certainly be full of challenges and adjustment, but will also be rewarding and full of growth.

welcome to the third trimester

2016-12-09T11:48:00.000-06:00

Several nights ago, I was at a lipsense party and trying on the millionth color of the night. I never wear makeup, so deciding on a lip color was ... hard. Am I picking an everyday color even though I'm not an everyday-lipstick-wearer? Am I picking a every-once-in-a-while color which basically means the tube of lipstick will last me several years? Thankfully, I have good friends who know about makeup and told me what to do. I ended up with an everyday color as well as a bit of an intense color. But the best part about the whole night was when I had this intense color (Rhubarb) on and Sara said, "Claire, you need that color! That's what I picture you in! Your black and white stripes, glasses, fun lip color, and blogging!" This has made me laugh intermittently throughout the past weeks for lots of reasons, but one being because I hardly ever blog anymore.

I really like blogging and, trust me, there have been plenty of #thingstosay about life, but once I arrive at the coveted naptime each day, I find other things to do. But I'm making/letting myself blog today so I can share a little life update.

Colt and I just got back from our babymoon in NYC. It has always been a dream to go with him (one more thing crossed off my 30x30 list!), but even more so since seeing "Waitress" back in May. I wanted so badly to see it with him. He surprised me with plane tickets for my birthday in July and we finally got to make that dream, along with many others, come true this past week.

I'm so thankful we got some solid time together before this little baby girl comes in March. We slept in, had brunch, explored, took evening naps, and had conversations that were completely interruption-free. I really love this guy.

Grand Central Station

The New York Public Library

"Wicked"

"Waitress"

Stardust Diner

The 9/11 National Memorial Museum

Joe's Pizza

SNL Dress Rehearsal

On the SNL stage

Rockefeller Tree

Central Park

But I need to back up for the sake of the documentation of this pregnancy. Somewhere around 15-16 weeks, the nausea stopped, the exhaustion let up, my energy level shot up, and I was able to eat (and enjoy) food in my house again. But man, that first trimester was hard stuff. I felt sick, had lots of headaches, dealt with a sinus infection (my first ever), and had a constant list of things I absolutely could not eat and things I desperately had to put in my mouth within the next 30 seconds or I'd melt. But I survived. I made it through with the help of chicken noodle soup, naps, lots of eating out, Colt (who basically ran this household because I felt paralyzed when it came to chores and preparing food), and Sara Groves.

So take up what we’ve been given
Welcome the edge of our days
Hemmed in by sunrise and sunset
By our youth and by our age
Thank God for our dependence
Here’s to our chasm of need
And how it binds us together
In faith and vulnerability

This cup, this cup
I wanna drink it up
To be right here in the middle of it
Right here, right here
This challenging reality
Is better than fear or fantasy

Listening to these words reminded me that this season of feeling sick and exhausted while taking care of two children would only last for so long and that I could still find beauty in a challenging reality. I was still grumpy and unendlessly hungry and just had to have fries and a malt to survive the day many times, but there was also a calm knowing that this was all still a wonderful thing - to be pregnant with two other little people running around, reminding me what all of this was for.

Finding out our little babe was a girl was so much fun, but no surprise at all. I mean, honestly, we all knew it was a girl. In fact, when we told Duke, he was a little frustrated. "Mom! I told you it was a girl this whole time!" And it's true, he did. I'm so excited for Duke to be a big brother to two precious girls and I can't wait to see Nova fill her new big sister/middle child role.

A couple of weeks ago, I failed my glucose test and had to take the 3 hour one. It felt pretty devastating to me because I didn't fail with Duke or Nova. I thought something might've really been different this time. Thinking about watching what I ate for the duration of this pregnancy sounded like absolute doom. I was so relieved to find out I passed the 3 hour test and that all of my levels were completely normal.

Although I have definitely noticed how different things are being 30 and carrying baby #3, I'm still feeling great. I have always loved being pregnant and this time is no different. I am aware of the crazy blessing that it is and am very grateful.

As for now, I'm 28 weeks and my mind and days are occupied with my "Before the Baby Comes" to-do list, which has already included an exciting room change-up for the kiddos as they now share a room. It has had its challenges, but sleep is something we take very seriously in this house. We try to give grace and let the fun of sleeping in the same room run its course, but we also try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum. It's been around a month now and I think we've all adjusted pretty well.

Other than that, our to-do list includes things like building extra shelves in the kids' closet so we can add Nova's clothes in with Duke's, putting the crib up, getting the nursery ready, and many other miscellaneous things that are completely non-urgent and unnecessary in order for the baby to come but that seem like emergencies to me. Ah, nesting. I love it. It's like an excuse to be my naturally crazy self about getting things done. Of course, it feels overwhelming at times, but it's also so exciting to be making room for a new member of our family. I don't think I ever imagined living in this house with 3 kids, but here we are and we're going to make it work!

Just as suspected, this pregnancy has gone by a lot faster than the other two simply because my days are busier and fuller. And with the holidays coming up, the new year will be here before I know it. And from there, it's baby shower, final preparations, and, of course, the waiting for her to come, which is my favorite part of all.

"Jesus is still King" and why we keep saying it

2016-11-09T20:47:00.000-06:00

We all woke up feeling different things today. Some woke up feeling absolutely devastated. Some are full of fear, wondering how the future will play out. Some woke up feeling triumphant. Some are full of excitement, feeling confident in the choice our country has made.

As for me, I woke up today feeling neither devastated or triumphant. I am neither full of fear or full of excitement. I'm sure part of that is due to the fact that I'm just not that into politics. But the other part is that no matter who our president is, I know who my King is.

But I have to stop and explain because I have a feeling that the "No matter who is president, Jesus is still King" message is getting misunderstood by some people. Maybe it feels like avoidance or dismissal or ignorance. But I want to tell you what it means to me.

"Jesus is still King" doesn't mean I have forgotten the pain that some feel today. In fact, it is only when I think of this one thing that I am emotional. I can see and completely understand why fear is a new or stronger reality today for some of my friends and neighbors. I am not a part of a minority of any kind in any category. I have not known the kinds of emotions that many are overwhelmed with today. But I can assure you that I am full of compassion and I want things to be different. I am not unaware. Yet because "Jesus is still King," there is hope that can be poured into that dark place and I want to partner with the Lord in that for the people around me.

"Jesus is still King" doesn't mean I don't care about our government. I care about the future because I have children who will live in it. I care about the decisions that are made. But because "Jesus is still King," I know that this government on earth cannot and will not change the truth of who Jesus Christ is.

"Jesus is still King" doesn't mean I disregard the authorities that have been placed in my life. I don't like that Trump is the next president, but he is. I have to walk a fine line, especially because I have little eyes watching me. It's important to me to teach my children that we respect the president. Yes, we pray for him. Yes, we may disagree with him. But bashing him is not going to do my children any good. Instilling fear in my children about him will not serve them well in the future. So we will weigh President Trump's words and decisions. We will talk about what things mean and not only how they affect us, but also the people around us and the people unlike us. We will talk about what our part is in all of this. We will talk about how things line up with what Jesus says. We will see the good and the bad. I don't have to be Trump's number one supporter, but I also don't have to hate him. I can see Donald, his flaws, and the consequences of those flaws, yet also see that he is someone the Lord created and loves. Just as I know I am full of flaws and not exempt from consequences, yet God still chooses to love me. Because "Jesus is still King," I can hold all of this seemingly conflicting and sometimes even offensive-feeling information in my hands and heart and use these moments to further describe the character of Jesus and the story of the Gospel to my children.

"Jesus is still King" doesn't discount any good or bad dimension to this election. It doesn't discount truth, feelings, or fears. It doesn't cover things up. It doesn't shove things under the rug. It doesn't mean I live with eyes closed and ears shut. No, reality still exists. But "Jesus is still King" adds another dimension. A dimension that can't be messed up by our human hands. A hopeful dimension. Because I am a follower of God, I believe in a world outside of this one. I don't believe this is all there is. I believe that life on earth is a blip on the line of eternity. I believe my hope doesn't have to be placed in anyone or anything on this earth. I believe I can put my full security in Christ. There is hope to be found. And the only reason is because "Jesus is still King."

becoming a family of 5

2016-09-28T17:32:00.000-05:00

As a new mom of one, I wondered how in the WORLD people ever had more than one child. What kind of witchcraft is involved for such a feat? How were they doing this? Did they just give up on their lives?

I was a mom of one wishing to be a mom of more one day, but I could not wrap my brain around how that was actually going to be possible - physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally. I looked at these moms like they had found some magic ingredient I was somehow missing. Maybe I'm just not 'mom material,' I would tell myself in my Kirsten Dunst voice.

Fast forward five years and I find myself pregnant with baby #3. I'm totally drinking the Kool-Aid.

I had forgotten I used to have all of these thoughts until I talked with a mom of one a few weeks ago. I noticed the way she looked at my friends and me. Like we were heroes and had done something truly amazing. She didn't know how we did it. But I reassured her that one child is very hard. One child is plenty of chaos, crying, whining, diapers, boo-boos, laundry, discipline, and messes. Adding more is just more. More of all that same stuff. More can still be hard, and it is many times! But man, once you get that baseline mom-ness in your blood, the adding of another kid just isn't as traumatic. At least that's how it felt for us when we added Nova into the mix.

I can't speak to what three will do to my life. I'm aware of the concept of being outnumbered, but right now, I'm really not worried about it.

I've learned that there's a fine line between my love for plans and worrying in advance. I'm working on it and I think I'm getting better. I still love my precious plans and playing out some hypothetical situations that are healthy and productive to play out, but I'm trying to stay away from worry and fear. There will be a lot of changes over the course of the next year. Lots of things up in the air. But what I've discovered is that I don't have to know how things will go down before they do.

This realization came a few months ago at our women's retreat where one of my favorite women in our church spoke. She talked about growing up as one of nine children. People would ask her mom how she did it. How did she do NINE children? Her answer was simple and so encouraging. She would say, "Well, when I had one kid, I had one-kid grace. When I had two kids, I had two-kid grace. With nine kids, I have nine-kid grace." This was like a breath of fresh air to me.

There's simply no use in wondering whether or not I'll have the grace or patience or mom-ness to handle three children because I legitimately don't have the grace for it right now. I have the grace and capacity to handle what's in front of me - Duke and Nova. It does me no good to jump forward 6 months with worry and doubt in my mind.

Now, that doesn't mean that grace is magically and easily planted into our hearts at the time we need it. These kinds of graces the Lord gives us come with refinement and our share of growing pains. That's inevitable. But God gave me what I needed when I had Duke and when I had Nova. And he'll do it again.

We are really excited to be in this spot as a family. Duke is thrilled and totally gets what's going on. Nova knows there's a baby in my belly, but obviously has no idea what is actually going to happen. Many times, Colt and I exchange glances with raised eyebrows when all hell is breaking loose in our home, reminding each other that another one is, in fact, on the way. But then we sit on the couch after bedtime routines and talk about how crazy we are about our kids. We can't wait to see who this little person is growing inside of me.

We are incredibly thankful for where God has us as a family right now and look forward to what the coming months will bring.

the birthday club turns 30

2016-08-23T16:12:00.001-05:00

I almost don't have any words for our trip we took to NYC back in May. Almost. But for the sake of this blog and my memory, I'm going to find some.

Reese, Sara, and I had been dreaming about a trip for quite awhile. We figured that the year we turn 30 would be the best time to do it. Back in the summer of 2004, the three of us took our senior trip to NYC together. So for 2016, we decided returning to NYC would be a great idea. And just for fun, here's a little walk down our memory lane of some interesting fashion choices and the time we hung out with Bachelor Bob in a cafe.

But New York City wasn't the original plan for 2016. We initially thought a relaxing, beachy-type getaway would be nice.

But then we heard about the musical.

The musical, Waitress.

The music was written by Sara Bareilles and we are some of her biggest fans. So we bought our tickets and made our plans to see the musical and spend a few days in New York.

Let me tell you, it was the most wonderful trip. It was everything I hoped it would be and more. I think we all agree that our most favorite hours of the entire vacation were the ones spent in Brooks Atkinson Theater watching Waitress the musical.

At it's most basic level, it's a story about friendship and the journey of finding yourself. There were so many sweet pieces of these three friends on stage that reminded me of the three of us sitting in the audience.

I can't fully describe what it is about this musical that has totally grabbed my heart and attention. But part of me thinks that it all just happened at the perfect time, and that is what is so beautiful about it. A year to the day after some big life changes in our trio, we take a trip to celebrate turning 30. Almost exactly 12 years after our senior trip to NYC, we return. Our favorite artist collectively, Sara Bareilles, wrote the music for a musical that would be out at the exact time we were planning to go somewhere. The musical was centered around 3 friends with some similarities in personalities and life struggles. It all fell together perfectly, the stars had aligned, and a dreamy getaway was the result. God had this lovely reunion planned for us just at the perfect time and I'm so glad he did.

There were some other great parts of our vacation as well. Like when we walked into an Italian restaurant and the man/host/guy in charge just looked at us and said, "No." We still have no idea what exactly he was saying no to, but we figured that meant there was no room in the inn so we moved on to our next restaurant option. I'm glad we ended up elsewhere because a vibrato-filled middle-aged couple was doing music at the restaurant and we got to request some tunes from "Oklahoma." We got the whole restaurant singing and clapping along! Good job, Oklahoma for being awesome and having a cool musical.

We also ate tons of great food, walked the Highline, visited the emotionally stunning 9/11 memorial, saw "School of Rock," went to the New York Public Library, ate dessert at Serendipity, took a picture outside of a Dean & DeLuca and got warm fuzzies thinking about Felicity, had the best burger of my life at Shake Shack, ended up in Queens at midnight by accident (subways, y'all), re-visited the Stardust Diner (not everyone can say they've heard a musical theater version of Motorcycle Driveby, but I can), went to a cat cafe (YES A CAT CAFE) and I drank my latte while my crazy friends hung out with cats, ate pizza on our hotel floor, slept in, and just, you know, did whatever we wanted.

It was wonderful. Every last drop of it.

Being able to walk through your high school years, college years, working/mothering years with the same people is something pretty special. There's something unique that has to happen in friendships like that. You have told hold on tightly to the person while also holding loosely to who they might become. We've all changed and grown into people I don't think we would have ever imagined we would be back when we were 14. And I mean that in the hard ways and the good ways. I'm so thankful for who we all are now. I'm grateful to have friends that know all of these different versions of me yet still love me no matter what.

Now, we're officially 30 year old women and we've officially been friends longer than we haven't been. Love you, Birthday Club.

taking the power out of panic attacks

2016-06-17T11:39:00.002-05:00

All I was doing was listening to a story that Colt was telling in the car. Nothing crazy was happening. But it doesn't always take something crazy to rev up panicked feelings.

I've had a few panic attacks in my life, all of which happened within the same 5 day period. They are awful no matter when they happen but they're especially terrifying when they happen for the first time and you have no reference point for them.

When panicked feelings come up in me now, I have tools for dealing with them. I had to dig these tools out during a conversation with Colt in the car just a few weeks ago. We were on our way to church on a sunny day. Colt was telling me a story that was semi-stressful. I say "semi" because it was only stressful on his end. I was simply a listener and the story had nothing to do with me personally. But somehow, I was triggered. Maybe I was feeling the weight of it. Maybe I was putting myself in Colt's shoes or another character's shoes in the story. I have no idea what actually occurred in my brain. But one moment I was fine and the next I was not.

There was nothing to panic about and no apparent danger, but my body was reacting and telling my brain otherwise.

After dealing with the panic the way I knew how, it subsided and was gone. Colt had no idea what was happening, but after he finished talking, I told him that I just fought off a panic attack.

As the days have passed by, I keep going back to that car ride. Moments like that don't happen often, but I wouldn't say they are rare either. I have had handfuls of almost-panic attacks and I knew what to do. But something unique happened this time. While the panic began to stir, this string of thoughts ran through my head: What if I had to start living like this again? What if anxiety hit me again and I had to deal with it every single day? I can't do it again. It's so awful and dark and hopeless. It makes life feel pointless and like it's not even worth getting up for.

All of the words tumbled in, uninvited, one after the other. I haven't been in that spot mentally in 4 years and I've forgotten what it feels like to think like that. It was as if the Lord was giving me a reminder. And I truly believe that moment and those thoughts occurred because I'm supposed to tell you about all of it. I'm supposed to share how panic attacks feel and how to fight them.

I want to help take away the mystery and power of panic attacks. Sometimes when we keep things stuffed away in a secret place, they grow into bigger, scarier monsters. I'd love to pull the Panic Attack Monster out of the closet, show you exactly what he looks like and reveal how powerless he really is.

(A quick note: This is not a "how to not have anxiety" self-help post. This information from my experience is specific to panic attacks, not anxiety or depression. If you are experiencing ongoing anxiety or depression, I cannot encourage you enough to see a counselor and get help. For some, managing panic attacks is doable and is the extent of the problem. And for others, more is needed. More was needed for me back in 2012. Do not feel inadequate if you are in the latter category. Getting help is a brave and wise decision.)

My mind was blown 4 years ago when my counselor told me that having a panic attack was up to me. I'm in charge of this thing? It was scary and overwhelming, yet also very empowering. So I'm telling you the same thing. You can feel the start of a panic attack without having it turn into a full-blown one.

So let's start at the beginning of a panic attack.

There's a trigger. Sometimes I can pinpoint it and sometimes I can't. The list includes but is not limited to unusually stressful or chaotic situations, feelings of being physically trapped, large amounts of conflict in the room, dark stories/movies on screens (Batman is obviously the reason for this), etc. Sometimes there is a reason why these feelings start up and sometimes there is no reason at all. But it's worth looking at what scene is set up for you when you begin experiencing panic. You may find common threads and be able to identify some triggers.

Next, you start feeling things. Usually the first thing I feel is a hot tingling run through my body from head to toe. Immediately after that, I feel short of breath and my heart starts racing.

Up until this point, there's nothing that has happened that has been within my control. All of it has been immediate, involuntary, and unstoppable. But right here - this is where I have a choice. And so do you.

Here's what I do:

Breathe. For me, I've found that if I don't get my breathing managed, then my mind may run away. I take deep breaths in my nose and out my mouth. If I'm in a car when this happens, I point the air conditioner my way or roll down the window. If I have access to the outdoors, then I step outside. That seems to help.

Think and look around. Back in 2013, I wrote about how I began feeling some panic while we were out with friends. My response was to begin narrating the scene in my head. In my post, I wrote:

"While eating delicious meals at restaurants and having great conversation ... BAM - one of those thoughts that doesn't belong. It was many things. You don't deserve to be away from Duke enjoying yourself like this. You should be home with him. You don't know what could happen. You won't be able to get to him fast enough. Don't you remember what happened? Something is going to go wrong. Immediately, I had redirect myself. It seemed so elementary, but I had to think about where I was, what I was doing, and who I was looking at. My name is Claire and I'm in Norman and I'm eating these chips and this queso is so tasty and Ashley just said something really funny and ... You can't think about two things at once, so if consciously thinking about putting a chip in my mouth was going to eliminate fearful thoughts, then that's what had to happen." (from my post, Learning to Fight Fear)

No one actually told me to do that, but I found that it turned a panicked situation completely around. And it's worked every time since. It's only been in the recent months that a wise woman/counselor/mentor at my church explained The Rule of 5 for panic attacks. As it turns out, I was unknowingly doing something that is recommended. Find 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste. Panic attacks want to take you to a faraway and nonexistent land of imminent danger. This technique keeps you grounded in the here and now.

I am so thankful I haven't had any other panic attacks since the ones I had in 2012. However, that doesn't mean they haven't knocked at my door. The opportunity has been there, but I haven't allowed them to manifest themselves into anything more. And that's not because I'm awesome and strong. I believe many things contribute to this - my relationship with God, prayer, counseling, the tools I use to combat panic, and the community of people around me.

If you are in a dark spot, wondering why you feel these sudden waves of heat and panic or why your heart starts racing in a completely safe situation, then you may be experiencing symptoms of a panic attack. I'm no doctor, but it's worth considering. Don't be afraid to speak it out loud to the people around you. Don't be afraid to ask your friends or doctor about what you're feeling. Don't be afraid to see a counselor.

Don't be afraid of panic attacks. You're bigger than they are and you've got this.

a problem with grace

2016-06-01T16:42:00.000-05:00

I have been stomach sick over this gorilla thing.

Partly because I am a mom of two little children who could very well have made this same mistake.

Because I'm not a gorilla or a little boy or a zookeeper, I naturally find myself sympathizing with the mother. It doesn't make me anti-animals or anti-take-responsibility-for-our-children. I'm just a mom who's sad for another mom. The truth is that we are all one step away from a horrific event like this suddenly happening. I don't for one second think I'm exempt. There is no bullet proof parenting method that protects our children from instances like these. This mother experienced a close call, and we all have those close call moments. They just aren't broadcasted to the world.

I have had one of my own close call mom moments. And I can't tell you the number of times it loves to creep back in, keep me up at night, smother me with guilt, and bring me to tears. Sure, nothing happened and everyone is fine. But those close call moments aren't forgotten by moms. It's almost unbearable for any mom to even hold the thought "I could have lost him."

But we did lose the gorilla, some of you may say. And you're right, we did. It's very sad.

It's sad that we lost this gorilla, a beautiful and rare animal.
It's sad that a mom lived out a kind of nightmare that all of us pray to God never happens to our child.
It's sad that a little boy fell into a gorilla enclosure, couldn't get to his mom, and was probably scared out of his mind.
It's sad that a zookeeper had to pull the trigger.

Do I personally think this was handled correctly? Yes. I would shoot a gorilla to save my children and I'd shoot one to save yours. But the whole thing is still awful for all involved. It doesn't matter how you turn it.

So yeah, I've been sick about it because imagining my precious Duke in an incredibly dangerous situation that I cannot fix makes my stomach churn.

But the other reason this whole incident has been so disturbing is because of the universe's immediate reaction to it all.

What is it about our humanity that drives us to want to pick a side, condemn a person, judge a situation, and comment with our "If it were me, I would have _____" following a terribly devastating circumstance? It's like the grown-up version of bullying. Tearing someone down by pointing out all of their mistakes so that we can feel better about ourselves or our point of view.

What everyone needs is a good dose of grace here.

Grace to the gorilla for ... acting like a gorilla. (I wouldn't have thought I needed to say it either, but I have found that people are defending this gorilla. I'm not quite sure who they're defending him to, but I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page here. Gorillas will act like gorillas and are obviously not to be blamed for that.)
Grace to the little boy who, like many children, was curious and accidentally found himself in a very dangerous situation.
Grace to the zoo who had to make a hard decision. Grace to the person who saved a human's life but who still knows what it feels like to shoot an endangered animal. You wear two very conflicting badges by two different groups of people - Hero and Murderer. I can only imagine what a tough place that has put you in.
Grace to the mom for being a mom just like the rest of us. Grace to her as she replays this event in her head and navigates these next days being the target of judgement by many who don't know her.

There's a lesson to be learned. And I don't think it's about gorillas or parenting. It's about being the kind of person who gives grace first, not judgement. It is possible to look at this complex situation and find grace for all involved, whether we agree with how it all went down or not. We can still treat people the way they should be treated.

Back in high school, my grace tank ran on low a lot of the time because I so often failed to see my own shortcomings. That I had a problem with judging others. That I was far too critical of people. That I lived in fear a lot of times without even knowing it. Layer by layer, through growing up and through life experiences, my own issues have come into the light. A handful of layers were exposed in college and many more were revealed in journeying through anxiety. And then there are the thousands of layers that show up in motherhood. I've learned that I like control, that sometimes I resort to fear-based decision making, that I compare myself to others, and that I'm selfish. (And many more, but I'll spare you the list.)

No, I don't have the grace thing down. I'm still a work in progress. But I think once we see our own weaknesses head-on, our hands that once held stones release them and find a way to embrace the people around us who are hurting.

Take away the gorilla, the boy, the mom, and the zoo. Are you someone who gives grace?

If we find ourselves angry at one side, forming petitions, and casting judgements on those involved, it may not be because we're right. It may be because we have a problem with grace.

God, thank you for the many people who have loved me and have shown me grace even when I have made mistakes, lost my temper, said unkind things, been irresponsible, and made bad choices. Thank you for all of those people in my life. Please continue forming in me a humble heart that is fit to love and give grace to others in the midst of their mess.

the story behind our new EP

2016-05-06T10:27:00.002-05:00

Asking people for money is one of the worst things. But when you're a musician wanting to make a record in 2016, it's hard to get around it. The majority of music is practically free these days and not many people will even fork out $10 for an album done by their most favorite artist. Which is why I'm here asking you for help.

But before I get any further, let me start at the beginning.

First of all, I'm in a band. We recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund our next EP which we plan to release this summer/fall. Although our Kickstarter promo video shares a general idea of where these songs come from, I wanted to give a more detailed account here. So, if you're wanting the full story behind our upcoming EP, you're in the right place.

On July 20th, 2012, I released my first EP as a "solo artist." (I use quotes because while I do take my music seriously, I don't take myself that seriously. But I'm not sure what else to call that first project of mine.) My goal for this little EP was to have a simple representation of my music - just me and the piano. Up until that point, I'd always worked with our band, Mopak, on Colt's songs. Recording my own songs was a big step for me and I was excited to conquer that uncharted territory, small as it was.

On the night of that same day, July 20th, my life changed. We were out on a triple date with some of our best friends (the folks who make up Mopak and their wives) when I had an unbelievable and sudden panic attack. My first one ever. I had no reference point for this. Little did I know, I would spend the next days filled with excruciating anxiety, visiting the ER, and getting prescribed Xanax because "sometimes these things just happen." Needless to say, the accomplishment of releasing my solo EP was buried and marked in my heart and memory as being one of the scariest days of my life.

If you've been a part of my life or read my blog for any amount of time, you know the rest of this story. (The whole story is here.) After months of counseling, lots of prayer, and lots of wonderful people encouraging me, I reached a point where I had found a new normal. No, my anxiety wasn't eliminated, but I could manage it.

As I was coming out of this really dark season, I began to write songs that were very specific to my struggle. I dreamed of one day recording an EP that would tell this story from start to finish. I had a few songs written, but couldn't seem to complete the project. Those songs sat in my notebook for quite awhile.

Fast forward to May of 2014.

I was faced with new challenges as I waited on Nova's arrival (my second child), didn't experience the birth I had hoped for, and struggled to nurse her. There were some emotions that were uncovered through all of those hard moments that I hadn't really experienced before. A spirit of disillusionment, anger, and disbelief began stirring in my heart. For lack of a better phrase, I struggled with my faith. I think "struggled with my faith" sounds really sweet and hopeful sometimes. But this wasn't that way. I was questioning the character of God and it was a devastating feeling.

As I moved through that season, I realized there were some common threads between those two journeys. Both of these journeys (the anxiety and the struggles with Nova) exposed who I really was and what I really thought. I learned things about myself that I'd never known before.

In the midst of that struggle in 2014, I dug those songs back out from 2012. I began adding to them, making changes, and writing new ones. Then it hit me. All of this went together. It was one big story about coming out on the other side of doubt, frustration, cynicism, anxiety, confusion, and abandonment. It's a story of being honest with yourself and others about who you are and what you think. It's a story of working through something really hard and allowing yourself to be changed because of it. It's a story that we all relate to.

We all walk through dark places. Not one person is exempt. But what we do with all of it either pushes us forward into better versions of ourselves or keeps us imprisoned to bitterness, grudges, pride, and isolation.

So that's the background of this whole thing. And here's where you come in.

We need help. More specifically, we need money.

Think of it as supporting people who are doing what they love. Think of it as supporting the art of music. Think of it as supporting honest storytelling. Or just think of it as a pre-order.

Releasing this EP will be a milestone for me. It's a way of redeeming that release on July 20th, 2012 that quickly became overshadowed by darkness. It's the end of a chapter, the tying of loose ends, the closing of a book. Sharing these songs is part of the closure associated with these seasons of life. Sharing these songs is part of the healing process. This EP is a full-circle moment for me.

I'm asking for your support to get this record done. I'm really proud of these songs and if you're a human who likes music and has endured any kind of hardship in your life, I think you'll like them too. I kindly ask you to please consider helping us make this EP by giving to our Kickstarter, and by spreading the word to any who might be interested.

moda spira

2016-05-03T15:39:00.002-05:00

source

Sometimes there are bands that walk into your life (or your ears) at a specific time and because of who you are or what is happening in that very season, that band becomes unforgettable. It becomes tied to that season. That's how Page CXVI is for me.

Back in the fall of 2012, I had just begun seeing a counselor for my anxiety. I had also just completed my first year of motherhood. Everything around me and inside of me had changed and the night that I saw Page CXVI was a milestone for me. It was the first time since I'd been on my mental health journey that I felt like I had heard music that gave me the "Me too!" feeling. I think that's what most of us songwriters want. We want people to hear our songs, relate to them, be changed by them, and carry them in their hearts. That's what Latifah's song "Roll Over Me/Joy" did for me that night.

That concert also spurred me on in my own songwriting and reminded me to dust off my notebooks in the midst of chasing around a toddler. In a lot of ways, that concert was part of the push I needed to keep writing the songs that now make up the concept album that our band, Mopak, is currently working on. As I sat and listened to Page CXVI that night, puzzle pieces started coming together and this EP started to take formation.

All of this to say, Page CXVI has a warm fuzzy spot in my heart. My journey and their music aligned at a really sweet time. So when Latifah asked on Twitter if any bloggers wanted an early stream of her new project Moda Spira, I quickly responded!

It doesn't take long to realize that this album has a completely different flavor to it than anything Latifah has done previously. I love when musicians feel the freedom and courage to move in a different musical direction. Adding Latifah's dark and rich vocals to a blanket of cool synth sounds, creative BGVs, and electronic drums makes for a tasty feel.

The tunes that have really stuck out to me in all my listens are "We Hold On" and "Shaking the Walls." They both have an easy, pop, anthem-y feel that immediately gets you moving and nodding your head, yet they're still grounded in musical and lyrical depth.

I asked Latifah to give a little snippet about the project. Here's what she had to say:

"I have been wanting to flex my songwriting muscles in a different way for awhile. I knew I wanted to explore a solo project to write songs about my personal experiences. I wanted to make a record that had my guilty pleasure sounds with earnest content. Moda Spira came into being from that place. I love RnB, 80s pop, Jazz, Motown, Soul, Cinematic Indie Rock, etc. and it was a blast giving nods to my favorite sonic landscapes.

The content came out of my personal relationship, it's ups and downs, and ultimately what it was for us to press into continually choosing one another through hard times. When you love someone the bad along with the good cannot help but eventually be exposed about yourself and your partner. I am deeply grateful for Reid's devotion to growth and commitment in these times and I wanted to spend energy reflecting on that season for us. Relationships are cyclical and we need reminders that there can be hope in hard times."

This album is worth a listen. Pre-order Moda Spira now or check it out when it releases on May 13th.

what's all the tomorrows?

2016-02-24T16:51:00.002-06:00

If your kids could pick one superhero power to have, what do you think it would be?

Flying? Being invisible? Shooting webs from their hands so they can climb tall buildings?

I can tell you with 100% certainty that Duke would pick none of those. My sweet Duke would pick the ability to know the future.

"What's tomorrow is?"

This is one of his daily questions. It happens at lunch time, it happens at dinner time, it happens in the car. He wants to k-n-o-w.

Typically, I give him a bit of information to satisfy his structured personality, but I try to leave the majority of the plans up in the air.

"We're going to the store and then I'm not sure what else we'll do."

Then he usually asks, "And then what's the next day?"

Is the kid mine or what? Eesh.

At that point, I go into my spiel about how we don't need to focus on any other day besides today.

But a few weeks ago, it reached a new level.

He asked, "What's all the tomorrows?"

While this made me laugh, I could so relate to his yearning.

I've known for awhile now that one major thing I will be partnering with God in is teaching Duke to hold the future loosely and to understand the value of being okay with the unknown by trusting and resting in God.

And I guess I could probably use a continual lesson on that myself.

Just a couple of weeks ago I fell apart because too many planned and "certain" things ended up changing or messing up. A relaxing bath didn't happen because, well, children live in my house. A dumb DVR didn't record The Grammy's because technology, though we wish to believe it is, is not perfect. And many more things like that. Separately they seem small, childish, and silly (and they are, really), but combined in one evening they made me feel I was being shoved in a constant detour. It sent me into a selfish spiral and by the time I got to the end of the night, I had completely ruined any hope of an enjoyable couple of hours with Colt because I was lost in the depths of pride and self-pity.

All of life (or my life, at least) so far seems to be a lesson in releasing control, plans, and guarantees. Sure, it's okay to be a person who loves structure. But the true test comes when those things are challenged. Does my world crumble? Do I crumble? There is something wrong when our peace, contentment, and joy are dependent upon things going as planned.

I believe there is something that God is calling each of us to let go of or loosen our grip of. It may not be plans or the future. Maybe it's money. Maybe it's a job. Maybe it's a position or status. Maybe it's an ability. What is that thing that we're desperately holding onto because it seems to give us happiness and purpose? What is that thing that when taken or altered in any way causes us to become shaken and unstable? I'm not suggesting that we give everything up that we love. I'm just suggesting that we search ourselves to find where we put our security. Where we find our security, we also find our identity.

Duke will never have the power to know the future. But I pray that as he grows, he finds his security in the One who knows and holds his future.

deeper realities

2016-02-03T14:56:00.001-06:00

Colt was gone for 7 days on a work trip recently. He doesn't travel a lot for his job, but the few weeks out of the year that he does, I'm not always a sweetheart about it. When he's away, I tend to report all the chaos, all the drama, all the bad behavior, and all the feelings I feel. Communication is good, but that's not technically what that is. Through my juvenile updates, I hope to yield some kind of result from him that sounds like this: "Wow, Claire, you're the best and doing the hardest job and I can't imagine doing it and I probably couldn't do it and what would I do without you???"

Newsflash: that strategy usually doesn't work the way I hope for it to. Not because Colt doesn't praise me. He really is great about doing that. But because even when he does affirm me after a week of being gone, it doesn't feel how it should feel because of the way I've acted. It feels crummy because I've been crummy.

So as we approached the week of him being gone, I knew I needed to pray.

I told God, "I don't want to act like that. Being with 2 little people and doing all that comes with it by myself for a week is going to be tiring. That's the nature of it. Colt's going to be gone and the kids will inevitably act like their normal, childlike selves. Since those circumstances can't change, please just change me. Work in me. More patience, more kindness, more endurance, more self-control. Let me enjoy my time with my kids."

Well, I can officially say that the Lord answered my prayer. It wasn't the awful and ridiculously hard trial that I had anticipated. Things were normal. Messes, diapers, laundry, tantrums, timeouts, cleaning, whining, taking toys, cooking, baths. No magic and no perfectly behaved children. Just normal life. The circumstances weren't different, but I was different. More specifically, my attitude was different. And because of that, the circumstances felt different. Surprisingly, it seemed like those 7 days were even better than our normal. Truly, I had nothing to do with it. The only explanation is that the Lord was working in me and I was actually paying attention.

What I've been thinking about lately is how I pray. How we pray doesn't matter in the sense of what words we use or how smart we sound. No, what matters is our heart. The heart behind my prayers that week was Do a work in me so that I can face this week with your power and strength, not mine rather than God, just please make the kids behave and make things easy for me. We all know where that last prayer will lead – straight down the road to disappointment and unmet expectation.

Now, we are certainly allowed to ask God to change our circumstances. He is powerful and many times, he will do that. He works miracles, heals people, remedies our situations without us having to lift a finger, and gives us good gifts we don't deserve.

Yes, I believe God loves to change our circumstances. But, more than that, I believe God loves to change us.

If we find ourselves stuck, praying the same "change my circumstance" prayers over and over, but we see no fruit, it's probably a good idea to take a deeper look. Maybe the Lord wants to do something with us, not our circumstances. As Paul Miller puts it in "A Praying Life," we don't want to miss finding deeper realities because we were just looking for pleasant results. And the great part is that when God changes us and brings us to those deeper realities, our circumstances can change! The specifics of the circumstances may not be different, but because we walk through them relying on God's strength and with changed hearts, our circumstances feel different.

And so you know, just because I'm writing this with my own fingers and I believe it to be true doesn't mean I'm awesome at it. I'm learning and I'm trying. Some days are easier than others. Some days, change sounds exhausting, I refuse to listen, and I stand stubbornly in the same place. For those days, there's always grace. But some days I choose to listen, take correction, and admit the places where I need growth. It may seem counter-intuitive, but it's on those days, the days that I welcome the change, that I feel more at ease. Because I realize and accept that the pressure is off of me.

"A Praying Life" by Paul Miller

Sometimes God really does box us in and, many times, he uses our circumstances. Sometimes there is nothing we do can about a situation. We can't fix it, we can't speed it up, we can't make it better. It's in those times that we are pushed toward God. And the best thing we can do for ourselves is to go with it. Talk with God, express our feelings and frustrations, ask him questions, humbly listen to what he has to say, and be open to receiving correction.

We were all eager to finally see Colt when he returned home. And I was eager to run a bath and spend a good hour in there alone, in silence, with hot tea in hand. But even though I was tired and ready for a break, I felt satisfied. God didn't leave me to do that week on my own. He gave me just what I needed. Instead of finishing that week wishing Colt would gush about how he couldn't live without me, the Lord gently reminded me that I'm the one who can't live without Him. I'm thankful to know a God who knows what I need, is committed to changing me, and always nudges me toward deeper realities.

opting out of resolutions, opting in for grace

2016-01-20T15:59:00.003-06:00

Resolutions for this year? Well, it's really the weirdest thing. We turned the corner from December to January and it felt like a balloon deflated in me. Not depression or sadness or anything like that. More like exhaustion – plain life exhaustion. An if I really want to live life the way I think I should and could and am called to then I need way more energy than this exhaustion. So for this year, there are no resolutions. (Gasp!)

Let me explain.

Best case scenario is that I'm an active, healthy, ministry-minded woman who is a loving wife, caring mother, loyal friend, attentive housekeeper, prepared meal planner, consistent blogger, and focused musician. Sounds dreamy because that's what it is – a dream. The truth is that I cannot be all of that simultaneously. I'll skip days of exercise. I'll tell the family we're going out to eat. I'll lose my temper with the kids. I'll take longer on a music project than I had planned. I'll say something rude to Colt. I'll push blogging aside because my mind is tired. I'll let the laundry get out of hand. I want so badly to do it all and to do it well. But the kind of pressure I would have to live under to achieve all of those things to their fullest each day would require a non-human quality in me that I just don't possess. None of us do. There is an ebb and flow in all of these roles, jobs, and hobbies and I must accept that reality.

As I've reflected on this upcoming year, I've decided that what I need most is grace. For 2016, I'm opting out of resolutions and opting in for grace. (This doesn't mean you can't have resolutions and also be filled with grace. Saying that for the sake of the easily offended internet.)

The past several months in church, an old song has made its way into the set list several times. But a few Sundays ago, one line of lyrics was highlighted for me. Out of nowhere, words so simple and old and familiar to my heart became like a sword.

And we can feel the love of God in this place
We believe your goodness
We receive your grace

We receive your grace.

I began to ask myself, do I really receive his grace?

I've discovered that when I hear grace, I hear the wrong thing. I hear, "Hey Claire, here's a cop out for all of those things you feel like you need to do and be. Just take the grace and chill out! No to-do lists and no stress!" When I think of grace like that, it takes away the joy I find in chasing after what I love to do and who I want to be. I certainly don't want to end 2016 filled with so much "grace" that I accomplished nothing, added on an extra 10 lbs., and slept too much.

But something tells me that's not quite what the Lord had in mind.

There's a difference between the grace I manufacture for myself and the grace that the Lord gives.

The grace I give myself sounds lazy and uninspiring. It sounds like giving up. But the grace that God offers says, "Claire, I just want you to know that I'm proud of you and I love you no matter what you get done today. I love who you are and I love what you're chasing after. Just remember your purpose in all of it – to know me and make me known. Keep that in mind and you'll succeed every time."

Someone that loves and accepts me 100% even when I don't deserve it? Why would I not say yes to that? What keeps me from accepting grace in my life?

Pride.

Much like a child, my attitude towards God sometimes is "I do it! I do it!" Grace is hard for those of us who kind of sometimes a little bit think that they don't need it. Although I feel like the Lord has lovingly educated me in that area, I still find myself feeling frustrated that I need grace. I don't want you to have to cut me slack, God, because then that means I'm not capable.

(crickets)

Um, guess what, self? I'm NOT capable. I need all the slack there is! When I decided to become a follower of God, I admitted my sin, recognized my shortcomings, and said a big YES to forgiveness, grace, and love I don't deserve. It has nothing to do with my good deeds, my effort, or how many things I get checked off my list. When I drop my pride, I can see my need for grace.

Personality.

"I put pressure on myself, that's just what I do."
"That's the way I am and I can't change."
"I don't like to have to depend on anyone other than myself."

If we have given our lives to Christ, none of these excuses work anymore. It's not a personality thing to not be okay with grace. It's not okay to be perfectionists. It's not okay for us to walk around with these self-made weights on our shoulders. This is not how God meant for me to live and it's not how God meant for you to live. We are not programmed to bear the burden of our sin or our to-do lists, and when we do, things usually get messy. Choosing grace even when our natural personalities and instincts scream otherwise looks like, "God, thank you for making me someone who is independent and who loves to get things done. But I recognize that I can't do it alone and I need your help. I see that I hold on to too much. Teach me how to give things over to you. Teach me how to be dependent on you. I want to be who you've made me to be and I want to live in the grace that you give me."

Guilt.

Satan's specialty. If he can make us feel guilty for everything we're not doing right or not doing at all, then we get stuck. In motherhood, we like to call this Mom Guilt. And you know what, this is the year I kick Mom Guilt to the curb. Mom Guilt is exhausting, unnecessary, and just a pack of lies. We can't experience the freedom that Christ offers when we're bogged down by guilt. We get so wrapped up in our failures that we start to believe there's no grace left for us. What would it look like if I chose to accept my humanity and say yes to the grace of God in my life?

Dishes in the sink that I just couldn't get to - ~~guilt~~ grace.
A 4 year old who can't identify all of his letters because I haven't made a consistent effort - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Kale smoothies that have never been made or given to my children - ~~guilt~~ grace.
A recording date that continues to get pushed back - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Kids that have never had a picture taken with Santa - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Photos on my hard drive of my kids that have yet to be organized - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Workouts that sometimes only happen once a week instead of five times - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Not sending Duke to the 3/4 year old preschool program but choosing to keep him in Kid's Day Out because it worked better for our schedules - ~~guilt~~ grace.
Frozen pizzas because can I just finally not cook for once? - ~~guilt~~ grace.

Those are small things, but they add up quickly. If I condition my heart to believe that I should feel unnecessary guilt, I am isolating myself from grace. If I truly lived in the grace that God is ready and willing to pour out on me, I would find myself feeling an abundance of freedom and love.

When pride, a piece of my personality, or guilt comes up against grace, I have a choice to make. I can either believe a lie or I can ask the one who will never lie to me, "What do you think about this? What do you say about me? What is the truth?" I wonder what would happen if I began approaching life that way. That is the task at hand for 2016.

I cannot encompass the perfect version of me that I aspire to be. And the closest I will ever come is when I allow God's love and grace to soak into my heart. Feel free to remind me of grace when I get all I-can-do-all-things-through-me-who-strengthens-me. 2016, here we go.

looking back on 2015

2016-01-08T16:34:00.002-06:00

HIGHLIGHTS

I ended 2015 as a 29 year old woman, a wife that is more happily than ever married to Colt, and a mom with two precious kids, 4 and 1.5 years old. We love our home and the Lord has provided everything we've needed. We are surrounded by close family, precious friends, an unbelievably wonderful church, and a loving community group. 2015 has been a good year. Here are some highlights:

We met up with the Watsons in California for vacation.
We swapped our dining room and music room.
I wrapped up the Nursing Nova blog series (along with my emotions and misplaced frustrations).
Nova finally got tubes and, while there were a few infections that followed, the tubes have saved our lives and our sanity.
I ~~pooped my way through~~ ran the relay in the OKC Memorial Marathon.
Colt added on the side gig of becoming the youth pastor at our church.
We went to Maui with my family.
After a 4 year process, we released our first EP as Mopak and played a really fun release show. (Listen to the EP on Spotify!)
I got better at saying no.
I got to write once for Gospel Centered Discipleship and once for For Every Mom.
I had my first commission to write a lullaby for a long time friend's baby girl.
We said goodbye to Colt's sweet Nana who lived such a God-honoring life.
Colt and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary.
I cut my hair off.
We paid off Colt's student loans.
We started working on a set of my songs for our next EP.
I went to the movies for the first time in 3.5 years.

BLOGGING

In 2015, I wrote 79 blog posts. That number is considerably smaller than previous years, but I'm okay with that. These were some of my most-read and/or personal favorite posts:

i went to the movies
icky feelings
the 7 year itch
dear first time mom
areas to examine when overcoming anxiety
a summary of nova's first year
waiting for the storm to pass
life still happens when you aren't nursing
you are worth the celebration
the evidence of motherhood
build courage by embracing suffering
how nova slept through the night

RESOLUTIONS

These were my resolutions for 2015:

wear my retainer at night more often
Hit and miss on this. I wore it more, yes, but not as much as I'd hoped.

have both bathrooms semi-updated
We didn't do much to our master bath this year except for add a new rug and organize the shelves. But in our guest bath, we painted the wood trim white, painted the walls grey, got new rugs, got a new shower curtain, and added a cute photo of the kids on the wall.

finish writing my album
Yes! All songs are written with a few tweaks left. Currently, we've got 2 of the 6 figured out as a band. Practices are scheduled each month and hopefully we'll head into the studio in the next few months.

spend some kind of time with God consistently
This happened much more. When I wrote this goal, I thought that I'd either land on doing it before kids wake up or after they go to bed. What I ended up deciding is that spending time with the Lord in the morning is the best - but not necessarily before they wake up. Most of the time, when I get up before the kids, there is some kind of silent alarm that goes off in their rooms, telling them that they should also get up. It's weird. I get up before them, they wake up early. I get up with them, we all get up at 8-8:30. It became more of a stress and frustration trying to get up early and beat the clock. What works best for me right now is getting the kids fed, cleaned up, and down to play. After that, I sit down at the table with my breakfast, journal, and bible/bible study/devotional. It's a noisy, interrupted time, but it's also special because my kids see me do it. For now and in this season, it works best like this.

MY WORD

My word for 2015 was surrender.

In Life. I saw surrender play out in saying no. I talked about that in this post. I learned that saying no is good and necessary. Maybe the most important part, though, is realizing that I don't have to feel guilty for saying no. For my sanity, my emotional limit, and the health of my family, I have to say no to the things that bog us down, busy us up, and make us crazy. That took surrender – surrendering a "yes," surrendering the outcome of saying no, and maybe even surrendering a desire that just didn't fit in this season.

In Marriage. I can certainly say that there is more of an ease to our marriage as we enter into this year as compared to last year. I can feel the growth and the change. More surrender, more giving in, more apologizing, more serving, more giving up of what we want for the sake of the other. I am married to a great man who is a leader in all of these things so I consider myself very blessed.

In Friendships. I saw the fruit of surrender here. I saw what happens when you give of yourself, your time, and your resources. We're all bound to be at rock bottom at some point. I've had my moments and the way my friends rushed in during those times will never be forgotten. I got to be on the other end of that many times this year and it was so rewarding. It's a privilege to walk alongside people in their burdens. It's just what Jesus wants us to do and when we do it, it is incredibly fulfilling. Yes, you have to give things up to do it, but the return is so much greater.

In Motherhood. I've discovered that I feel the most frustrated, alone, exhausted, fed up, and numb on days that I'm doing too much, expecting too much, or only focusing on myself. Of course, all of those emotions are normal to feel as a mom, but what I do and how I react because of those emotions is where I mess up a lot of times. I usually have the wrong response. Occasionally, very occasionally, I can look inside of myself, find the deeper issue, and make a change. On those days, I win. I find the piece of me that needs to surrender. For example, a few days ago I was having one of those days. I was so done with all of it. One more making of a lunch was going to kill me. One more "Can you say that to me in a different way?" was going to make me pop. But the next day? I was fine. It was easier. I liked my kids more. The difference? I surrendered some of my time to make sure I spent time with God and I surrendered thoughts of what I wished I was doing or what I felt like every other person was doing and focused on what I was actually doing. When we hand things over and give things up that aren't meant to be held in our brains and hearts, life works better.

I love picking a word at the beginning of each year because it gives me something to focus on. I saw this word on my wall every day. Some days, I put it into action. Some days, I didn't. But I'm so thankful for the days I did and for the constant reminder of how important surrender is in so many different areas of my life.