looking ahead.

january.

both the end of the christmas season and the start of a brand new year.  it always feels a little depressing to me, and invigorating at the same time.

this week, we've all dragged ourselves forward--a little reluctantly--into the post-christmas-vacation-life.  it's been a week of the dreaded alarm clock, whiny children (and parents), to do lists and me apologizing to my husband on a nightly basis for falling asleep during one of our netflix binges.  it's getting ridiculous.

but mama is tired.

at the start to every year, instead of thinking more about what i'd like to accomplish, i tend to reflect on what the last year has looked like.  treasuring all of the memories made...all of the different snapshots in time that i want to hold onto.

and this year, there were many.

snowstorms and gardens growing.  little hands covered with flour from helping mama bake.  picking roses from the flower beds and taking trips to the beach.  first soccer games and gymnastics classes.  watching their faces light up at disneyland and pool time amidst the palm trees.  catching starfish and chasing fireflies.  surprise road trips through snowy new england countrysides and finding golden tickets at town easter egg hunts.  baby girl's tap shoes and ballet skirts.  jumping in leaves and catching snowflakes on our tongues.  prayers to follow jesus whispered out of childlike faith.

it's been a great year.  one of the best, actually.

as i've reflected on this last year, it has been one of healing and restoration; where the lord has so graciously soothed my heart in so many ways.  he has brought light back into my life, after so many years of walking through darkness.  it's been a season in my life where he has sweetly reminded me that the god who has walked with my through the valleys and climbed the mountaintops by my side, will always be there... holding me, loving me, and graciously redeeming me no matter what.

the past eleven years of my life have brought such pain and darkness.  as i look back... from my dad's diagnosis of a fatal disease, to watching sickness rob me of my sweet dad, to his time in the hospital and eventually his passing... i see how these years of fear, uncertainty and pain have chipped away at my soul, my faith in the lord, and the very nature of who i am.  there have been so many happy times to be sure: marrying the love of my life, watching my babies grow and making a home for our family... some of the most joy-filled times of my life... mingled with some of the most sorrow-filled ones too.  and all along, the lord was faithfully loving me, whispering his promises of restoration and hope to my broken heart.

and this past year, i was ready to listen.

i was ready to let go of my fears, my questions, my wrestling with the "whys" and "what ifs" and exchange them all for freedom.  for love.  for the hope of what's to come.

and i'm so grateful.

the other morning i was standing at the kitchen sink, wrists deep in suds.  emmy played quietly and music kept me company while i accomplished my otherwise monotonous daily tasks.  the song "good good father" began (chris tomlin), and suddenly emmy was at my side, begging me to pick her up.  "dance with me, mama!"  as i gathered her into my arms, and we swayed nose to nose, my heart was overwhelmed with thankfulness and tears spilled down my cheeks as i listened to these words:

"oh i've heard a thousand stories

of what they think you're like

but i've heard the tender whispers of love

in the dead of night

and you tell me that you're pleased

and that i'm never alone

oh and i've seen many searching 

for answers far and wide

but i know we're all searching 

for answers only you provide

cause you know just what we need

before we say a word

you're a good, good father

it's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

and i'm loved by you

it's who i am, it's who i am, it's who i am

you are perfect in all of your ways

you are perfect in all of your ways

you are perfect in all of your ways

to us.

you're a good, good father."

as we start a new year, i'm so thankful for a god who heals the broken hearted.  who turns our ashes into beauty.  i'm thankful that although i don't know where the road will lead me in two thousand sixteen, i know the one who will be holding my heart every step of the way.  

and i'm so thankful for that hope as i look ahead in joyful expectation of what's to come.

my grammy.

it was a late summer day, and as the sun was sinking low in the august sky, i heard the familiar close of my grandparents screen door as i sat on their front porch drinking ginger ale.  "i think i'll go for my walk", my grandmother announced.  i was seventeen and still loved my grandparents company.  i'd sit for hours with them on their front porch, on their old wicker furniture, peeling with chipped white paint.      we'd play cards or watch the cars go by... and even up until getting married in my late twenties, i'd spend the night at their house, keeping long standing traditions alive.  my grandmother walked several times a day, and since i so enjoyed her company--and dusk on a summer day was always one of my favorite times--i jumped at the chance to join her.  as we walked her well worn path along the streets that knew her footsteps well, we chatted and drank in the peace of the sun melting into the horizon and the summery smell of freshly cut grass.  i remember her saying what i had heard her say countless times as i was growing up, a smile in her voice: "i just love walking... it is my time with the Lord". She told me how she would pray as she walked, how she met different people on the streets she traveled several times a day, and shared with me how she longed for heaven.  That always left an impression on me.  As a teenager and young adult, I couldn't imagine wanting to give up life here on earth and yearning with such a deep desire for a place I knew so little about.  But I could see in her eyes, and hear in her voice, such an unwavering conviction that she had lived a good life, and was ready for the good Lord to take her to the home that He was preparing.  And it is this resolve--this steadfast faith--that marks the life of my grandmother and continues to bless my heart as I reflect on a lifetime of memories, and just what her legacy has meant to me.

on sunday morning, my grammy got to finally see that heavenly home that she had so desperately longed for, as jesus took her from us and brought her into his presence.  it had been a week of rapidly declining health that came as somewhat of a shock to us.  as difficult as it was to watch her go, we spent some sweet time with her and were able to say goodbye, which i am so very thankful for.  the day before she passed away, i spent some time sitting by her bed.  i watched as she slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling and wondering when it might not.  i cried and prayed and remembered, and thanked god for all of my memories.  something in my spirit knew that this might be the last time i had with her, so i treasured the peace and silent moments as i sat by her side.

i remembered all of the sleepovers--from the time i was a little girl, to my days as a single seminary student--and the mornings that i woke up to the smell of popovers baking in the oven and coffee brewing in the kitchen.  i remembered the sight of her kneeling on the floor between me and my sister's twin beds, praying over us before she turned out the light.  i remembered being snuggled up in blankets in front of the television as she waited on my sister and i, bringing us ginger ale and crackers and cheese, and knowing that as much as i loved being spoiled by her, she loved spoiling even more.  i remembered the smell of bacon frying out on the front porch, as she stood over her electric pan in her housecoat.  i remembered playing records on their record player in the living room as we danced, and the sound of her laughter.  i remembered sitting up at her old fashioned typewriter, my feet barely touching the floor as i clacked on the keys and made up stories and poems, just like she used to write.  i remembered my sister and i getting to pick teacups from her collection to have our coffee in after sunday dinner...and she'd always let us top it off with a scoop of ice cream.  i remembered her famous parker house rolls, and christmas light drives, and staying up late just the two of us, playing cards or watching dick van dyke.  i remembered the sight of her and my grampy faithfully sitting in the crowd at every basketball game, every school concert, every production i was involved in.  i remembered in these last years, how much comfort i found in visiting her... she didn't always know who i was, or could remember my name, but she could remember every word to every beloved and treasured hymn, and we would sit and sing them together, as tears streamed down my cheeks.

that day as i sat in the quiet, remembering, my grandmother flinched in her sleep and i grabbed her hand.  her eyes fluttered as she started to wake and i began to talk to her.  she struggled to say anything back, but as i said "grammy, i love you," she mustered all of her strength to get the words to come out clearly, "i love you too".  i squeezed her hand and said, "grammy, you're getting ready to go home, aren't you, to be with jesus?" she looked into my eyes and said "i can't turn around."  "it's okay," i said, "you don't have to.  i just want you to know that having you as my grandmother was one of my life's greatest blessings."  she fell back to sleep, then, and i stayed a while longer, holding her hand.  that ended up being the last words i ever spoke to my grammy, and for that i am so grateful.

my grammy has left behind an incredible legacy, but if you would have asked her, she didn't consider herself to be anyone special.  she was a humble servant, someone who was consistently giving and thinking of others.  i remember her taking me with her on one of her visits to a local nursing home, and being so impacted by watching how she quietly and faithfully served.  she baked meals, delivered homemade treats, mailed care packages and continually put the needs of others before her own.  even in her last years, anyone that spent even a few moments with my grandmother knew about her faith in jesus, and how her love for him transformed the way she lived and interacted with people.

one thing that will forever impact me about my grandmother was that no matter how pain she endured, or how much she lost in this life, even when her mind and memory failed, she always remembered scripture, and the words of hymns that she loved so dearly.  countless times over the past few years, my grandmother has sung the hymn "god will take care of you".  i have no recollection of her singing this as i was growing up, but after my father died four years ago, my grandmother started singing this song. it was almost her way of finding comfort in the fact that she had lost her only child, and then a few years later, her husband.  i loved hearing her sing these words, and they always encouraged my heart:

"be not dismayed wate'er betide,

God will take care of you;

beneath his wings of love abide,

God will take care of you.

God will take care of you,

through every day, o'er all the way;

he will take care of you,

God will take care of you.

through days of toil when heart doth fail,

God will take care of you; 

when dangers fierce your path assail,

God will take care of you.

all you may need he will provide,

God will take care of you;

nothing you ask will be denied,

God will take care of you.

No matter what may be the test, 

God will take care of you;

lean, weary one, upon his breast,

God will take care of you.

God will take care of you,

through every day, o'er all the way;

he will take care of you,

God will take care of you."

while my heart is sad, i also rejoice.  my grandmother is finally home, the home that she so desperately longed for.  and while i grieve, i have a lifetime of memories to gather around me for comfort, and a faith that was instilled in me due to my grandmother's legacy.  

grammy, i will never forget the sound of your laugh, or listening to you pray, or those walks where i would hear you yearning for heaven... or your sweet voice singing of god's faithfulness even until your last breath.  i don't know where our family would be if it weren't for your vigorous, unshakeable faith in the one who holds us in His hands.  your faith has forever changed me and the course of my life, and i only hope to be to my girls and my future grandchildren what you have been to us.  i love you with all my heart, and i can only imagine how you were greeted by jesus saying to you "well done, my good and faithful servant."  see you soon, grammy.  i can't wait.

the best good friday.

it has been a week.

you know, the kind that everyone says you will laugh about someday when you look back?  by the way, i'll be interested to see if that's true...when our family gets sick, we get sick.  and usually, we get sick together.  we go big or go home, people.  and it's not fun.  i'll spare you all the details, but let's just say mama was home in bed all week with the flu, and bella soon followed suit.

i am not a good patient.  every time i get sick, i cry.  i feel like i miss out on life.  i miss my kids.  i get bored.  and i have a hard time not working (at school and home) and trusting that the world will be able to go on without me.  it's a problem, really.  i'm trying to work on it.

this week i felt especially sad being confined to my bedroom for a few days.  holy week is such a special time for me, as a mom, creating memories and traditions with my girls and teaching them about Jesus.  and i missed it.  almost all of it.  and there were tears.

and even so, god was gently reminding my heart that stillness is always good--even if it's forced.  even when we don't want to be still.  there is so much to be found in it.  so much that our souls need.  i tend to be a do-er type, so this is always something god is bringing to my attention.

be still.  no expectations, no doing.  just be.

friday morning after another bout of sickness for my sweet bel, i sat with the girls on the couch cuddled up in blankets and we watched some movies about the easter story.  we talked about what the day--Good Friday--meant, and why it's so important to us.  and that afternoon, as i was putting bella to bed, god reminded me just how important these times of stillness are.  sweet conversation.  times of singing old hymns and tickling their backs and prayers lifted up and all the simple, precious moments of just be-ing.

snuggled up in her bed, with her covers up to her ears, i talked to my bella about how special she is because of jesus' love for her.  she lifted her face to me, eyes dancing and said in her sweet, soft voice: "he has forgiven us of all of the bad sins we've ever done.  he loves us so much and he will never leave us."  tears began spilling down my cheeks.  you know, those "mom" moments where you think surely this moment is what its ALL about.  all the hard, make-you-want-to-pull-your-hair out days lead up to this one moment in time... and it's suddenly MORE than worth it. and that maybe, just maybe, even in spite of all of your weaknesses and flaws they are still learning something good?

we've had this conversation many times before, and i think bella has probably prayed "the sinners prayer" at least ten times... but i just knew she didn't really understand it.  until now.  she continued to tell me what happened when jesus died on the cross and what it means for her.  and when i asked her if she wanted to pray and ask jesus to forgive her and come into her heart she nodded emphatically.  "mama, can you help me?" she asked, and then dove right in, praying a prayer that let me know she knew exactly what she was praying.  "is that a tear?" she asked, pointing to my cheek when she was finished praying.  "yes it is, honey... happy tears.  do you know that the bible says that all the angels in heaven are rejoicing right now?  and i think your bampy is throwing one great big party!"  her eyes got big.  "yeah, i bet he has donuts!"

so today, everyone is feeling better.  we were able to go on an easter egg hunt.  we baked our traditional resurrection cake.  easter baskets are ready for tomorrow morning.  but nothing can ever begin to come close to the gift of those moments of stillness with my sweet girl.  it was the best good friday ever.

thank you, jesus.

imperfect.

{source}

i feel as though i've had writer's block for the last several months.

this blog has been such a wonderful place for me.  a blank page to document who i am and (hopefully) how i'm growing.  a little corner of the world that is mine.  where i can freeze time just where it is each day i pause to write.  where i can journal my little family and bottle up my girl's childhood.  share a recipe or two, and some decorating projects in our home.  a collection of my most favorite things.

i've always expressed myself best through writing.  when i was little, i constantly had notebooks going all over the house; their pages filled with stories scribbled from my ever vivid imagination.  in fourth grade my teacher told me i should be an author when i grew up.  i told her if i ever was, i would dedicate my first book to her.  in my adult years, writing has been my best outlet; a way of helping me grow and process.  it's been through penned pages of my endless source of journals, and now through the clatter of computer keys, that i have felt closest to the lord.  i've poured out my heart, written out my prayers, journaled my deepest fears and greatest joys.  i've recounted beautiful and tragic moments of my life, and i've found a way to share my story.  it's nothing special; but it's the journey god's given me, and i've always felt that by sharing it, god just may use my words to tell someone else "i've been there".

sure, god uses our seasons of plenty to encourage and bless others... but i believe it's through the authentic and raw exposing of our struggles that our stories breathe life into those around us.  we all need to know we are not alone.  we don't have it all together.  and that we can be beautiful, worthy, and enough in the grace of jesus... even in all the imperfection.

i've always been a perfectionist.  to the core.  in my work, my home, my appearance... it's a draining thing, really.  i don't recommend it to anyone.  truth be told, motherhood has kind of wrecked me; but in a very good and humbling way.  i spend way more days in yoga pants than i do in nice clothes.  and it's a good day if i get to run a chi through my bangs, forget about washing and blowdrying my hair.  my house--well--let's just say my kids are slowly destroying everything, my couches are dotted with water stains from leaky sippy cups and don't even get me started on trying to organize their craft supply... or any of their toys, for that matter.  and wanting everyone to think i'm a top notch mom?  well, i'm humbled continuously because of my girls amazing abilities to throw the most epic tantrums of all time.  other moms relate?  yeah.  why i care about what the staring strangers in public places think about my mothering ability is beyond me, but i still struggle with that one.  i told you.  motherhood is a complete perfectionism wrecker.  for that, i am thankful (most of the time).

somewhere in my teenaged years, i got the message that there was a pedestal i was on, and i needed to do everything i could to stay there.  i began decades of a works based relationship with jesus, where i was the good girl, made all the "right" decisions on the big stuff... went to a christian college, got my masters degree from a world renowned seminary and fell in love with a wonderful man and did everything the "right" way.  after i graduated from seminary, i started a full time ministry job as a counselor at a church in dallas and me and that wonderful man started talking about marriage and making sure that was the next step that god wanted us to take.  i got myself so wound up trying to make sure my life choices were pleasing to god, that because of that and other reasons i ended up ridden with anxiety.  like, major anxiety.

one morning, i sat on my bed with the bible open in my lap praying for god to show me something in his word that would calm my striving heart.  immediately, he directed me to ephesians chapter 3... one of my favorite verses was always ephesians 3:20 "now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to his power that is at work within us..." but this time god was whispering to me to read the earlier verses...a prayer the apostle paul had written to the ephesians:

"i pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his spirit in your inner being, so that christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  and i pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power together with all the lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of christ; and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of god."

ephesians 3:16-19

that morning, god's unconditional love brought me to my knees.  my perfectionism (also read: pride) had completely broken me.  for the past several years since, i've been on a journey of admitting my flaws, accepting my shortcomings and allowing god to love me regardless of my "performance".  

this november will mark three years since i lost my dad and encountered one of the toughest spiritual battles of my life.  so much of what i always knew about god, and had experienced in my intimate walk with him was broken in the traumatic way i lost my dad.  i'm not always sure about how to get that same relationship back... or if i ever will.  and that girl who wants to do everything right and perfect has been resurfacing a lot over the past few years.  accepting the fact that i can struggle, that i can be angry with god, that i can allow myself to grieve and be broken has been a very hard thing for me.  give thanks and praise god for being the one who gives and takes away?  absolutely.  but i have to daily tell myself that it's okay to not have that attitude all the time.  it's impossible, actually.  and that's where jesus comes in.  he is there to fill in the cracked places in my soul.  to hold me when i'm hurting.  to love me when i'm angry.  to gently whisper his promises to me when i want to hold onto everything in my life and not trust him with anything for fear of another loss.  

as our women's pastor at church so gently reminded me as i sat across from her sobbing a couple of months ago: there is nothing i can do that would make god love me any more or any less.  i can come just as i am; broken and hurt and scared... and trust him to do what he does best.  LOVE.

i'm not at all where i wish i was in my healing process, or where i want to be in my walk with god.  it's still difficult at times for me to open my bible.  my mind often races too much to pray as fervently and consistently as i used to.  and i think i could still cry almost every sunday at church during worship.   but god's word tells me that my brokenness is beautiful to him.  it's better than any striving, than any prideful perfectionism, and i'm learning to find the beauty in that myself.

"my deepest awareness of myself is that i am deeply loved by jesus christ and i have done nothing to earn it or deserve it."

-brennan manning

resurrection cake.

i love traditions.

i know i've written about this before, but i grew up in a family that was ALL about them.  and i loved it.  now it's so important to me to build traditions of our own with the girls... it's such a special part of childhood and family life in general.

naturally, holidays are the perfect time to develop these traditions and sweet family moments.  however, in my best efforts, i find a few things that are difficult in the task to do so: number one, our girls are still small and while doing special things is super fun, it can also make me want to poke my eyes out.  seriously.  and sometimes--well, most of the time--things don't go the way i have imagined in this idealistic brain of mine.  number two, it's an ongoing task for nick&i to try to teach our girls the reasons why our family celebrates holidays like christmas and easter.  for us, easter is far more than bunnies and eggs... but to them right now, cute fluffy animals, pretty decorated eggs and easter candy are what's most exciting.  so we are constantly trying to find ways to teach them more and more about our faith and our savior's love for us.  which can be a huge challenge.  ever tried to explain death and resurrection to a two and four year old?  geesh.

so while scrolling the internet one day, i found a few different ideas for "resurrection cakes", and i thought they were so cute, and a great (and delicious!) way for teaching the girls more about easter.

here's what we did...

resurrection cake

materials needed (besides recipe ingredients):
* cardboard
* tinfoil
* coconut
* green food coloring
* candy eggs
* oreos
* chocolate sticks
* glue
* biscuit cutter

- preheat oven to 350.
- we used this chocolate cake recipe from the pioneer woman, but we halved it.
- grease and dust a pampered chef batter bowl with cocoa.  fill bowl with batter and bake for 1 hr, or until knife is clean when inserted into cake.  allow to cool.
- wrap a good sized piece of cardboard with tin foil.
- take several oreo cookies and remove the white filling.  finely crush the chocolate wafer parts in a ziploc bag.
- in a mixing bowl, mix a bag of shredded coconut with a few drops of green food coloring until coconut is evenly colored.
- once cake is cooled, take a biscuit cutter and carve out a portion of the cake to be the "stone".
- we used this super yummy chocolate buttercream frosting recipe from mel's kitchen cafe; highly recommend.
- using a spreader, frost cake and "stone".  dust cake with some of the oreo crumbs to resemble dirt; save a good portion for later.
- add coconut "grass" to cover the tinfoil, leaving a section by the opening of the tomb uncovered.  add a few pastel colored egg candies; i used reeses peanut butter eggs just because they're my fav and we had them on hand for filling the girls easter eggs tomorrow.
- fill the tomb opening section with the rest of your oreo cookie crumbs for "dirt".
- cut a few chocolate sticks to make three crosses.  glue together.  when glue has dried, top cake with crosses.

voila!  this is going to be one of our new family traditions.  the girls loved it; they helped me mix it up and bake it this morning, and then they were so excited to wake up from their naps and see the decorated cake!

 

happy easter everyone!  i can still hear my dad's booming voice excitedly say: HE IS RISEN; HE IS RISEN INDEED!

so grateful.