Saturday, February 27, 2010


I've been jotting down ideas on this imaginary notepad in my mind for a long time. Ideas for things to write here, things I want to tell people but don't have the guts, things I'll never tell anyone, and mostly ideas for a book. Corey pokes me in the ribs about writing a book anytime we read a new one that is particularly engaging or watch a movie about some aspiring writer. Last night we finished "Julie & Julia" which I found surprisingly lovely. My problem is, I think I'm subconsciously coming up with ideas for everyone else. I want to write something that will please people, but nothing genuine ever comes from that so I always end up stuck and not believing in myself. I also wonder if I should write something completely fictional or stick to what I know and add a little of myself to the mix. It just seems so daunting, like a project I'll start and then stick in the corner hoping to finish if I keep it in sight, the one that just gets junk stacked on it. If only I could find a story deep within me that I could write just for myself...I think that would be the one worth reading.

I have another post I really want to write about my odd view of my role in this marriage of mine, but I need to get some rest. I'll let it stew a bit before I open the lid here.

Monday, February 22, 2010


It's 326am. By all means I should be sleeping, but a wicked cold, too much decongestant and lingering thoughts keep me diligent in my sleeplessness. I am thinking about today, about the ups and downs and bouts on inspiration. My son has decided to turn fit enamored on us and I am at a loss as to how to handle both it and his verbal defiance. It is a huge part of our day to day right now but somehow also seems so trivial as I know it is a season, that consistent discipline and an ability to hold my ground will, in time, change his ways. And even though I know this, I can't seem to stop complaining about it. I hear the words come from me, talk of his actions and my absent husband and it just disappoints me. I am content in my circumstances, I love this life and what I am able to do but for some reason I also tend toward attention seeking behavior, craving pity and sympathy that I really don't need. The grace of those around me abounds and I realize that maybe I should lend a little more to myself.

I keep thinking about my strengths and weaknesses, the chances I could take in my life to live bigger and bolder and have fewer regrets. I'm so safe right now, so afraid to let go of the simplicity of our life, so afraid to listen to the voice of nonsensical decisions that would likely lead to pure joy and less control. I feel a whisper that our family is not meant to stay small, that God has plans to prosper us, that he trusts us with many lives and many souls but that means less order, less outings, even less time to connect with Corey. But it also means more life, more love to give and receive. Corey and I hope to bring a new and fresh start to a little life somewhere, to take a child into our family who is wanting for one, but I feel a deep pull inside telling me that adoption will become a joyous addiction. When, where and how many children is vague. Our hearts are open.

The chance I know is begging to be taken lies in serving, in giving my all to this community, in being a shepherd of lost youths. The network of needy young people in the high schools of Southside Peoria beckon both Corey and I, but we feign to jump in and do something. The time commitment is petrifying in our world of limited togetherness, but I wonder too how choosing to save and impact these lives in our own small way might bring us closer in monumental ones. I doubt our ability to do enough with these small children in tow, instead of just stepping out on faith and trying, I hold back and wait for the pieces to be shown. I want clarity. What I need is trust.

"God doesn't require us to succeed; He only requires that you try." -Mother Teresa

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


I've heard people familiarize their relationship with God as a grander, more abstract paternal bond. It makes sense on one hand, that God, Abba, Father, would seem to us much like our earthly dads, but then it doesn't add up for me. I never knew my dad, don't have even one memory of him. Does that make God absent for me?

Lack of "religion" in my early years was really not a curse. Though many heart wrenching mistakes were made that may have been prevented with a stronger moral code, they are what brought me to a place of humility that God himself used to make His way in. In the same way, growing up without a father meant that the idea of Abba was new and fresh to me, I have no hurt feelings or regrets when it comes to Him because I have no real "daddy issues." To me, God is real, and strong and full of love and grace and openness. I can talk to him knowing that He is content just to know that I approach him with my whole self, that He doesn't judge or condemn my words but rather, is overjoyed that I took the time to bring them before Him. The only kink in this is that having an emotional bond with God is constantly trying, it nudges at me incessantly and I can't seem to make any headway.

I fight with myself and my own judgment of those women whose love for the Lord is fierce and tearful. I, all in one breath, envy and doubt their passion. I ache for such a connection but just can't seem to let myself believe that theirs is true and genuine as opposed to a charade. This is one more brick from my wall of sin that seems mortared so deep as to be impenetrable. I find it true of so many relationships as well. Even in my marriage I go to bed feeling as if there is a deeper connection Corey and I are meant to have, would have, if I would just choose not to hold back. Maybe that is a whole other post in and of itself.

In writing this I empty the contents of my deepest pocket of regret. I also realize that to admit it is to begin to change, to look hard at myself and my shortcomings that I might one day pull out a victory rather than another coin for the fountain of who I'm not supposed to be. God doesn't want me to feel that I don't feel enough, He wants me to be free. God as my father. Wanting my happiness above all else, for in that state, I am of most value.

Monday, February 15, 2010


I have a difficult time with relationships. Growing up close friends were lacking, I spent most of my time wandering from one group to another, desperate to fit in though aching to be different. I wanted to be beautiful yet mysterious, popular and chased after.

I never made it.

I got invited to a few of the "cool" parties only to make the most detrimental choices of my adolescence and secretly had the most fun hanging out with the "dorks," who accepted me for who I was even though I hardly knew myself at all. So these inconsistency created a void in me when it comes to letting people in, revealing the truth of who I am and what I feel and where I stand on things. I find it to be true in some form even now, even after God has been doing a powerful work in me for over 8 years.

There are friends here in this new place that I feel the Spirit speaking into my heart, friends that I am being called to let in, to be real and vulnerable with, to tell them the things I always hold back. But I'm AFRAID.

The three women in my life that I consider the closest of friends were all born of adversity. We struggled through things together, they told me the hard truths and I, in turn, denied my selfishness to speak truth into their lives. Why, then, do I find it so hard to try again? Why am I so afraid of rejection that I let loneliness take it's place instead of taking the risk? I'm tired of masking my shallowness with a smile, but where to begin is the true challenge. I guess you just dive in, knowing that the buoy of acceptance is just as close as the anchor of betrayal and that no matter the outcome, eventually you'll make your way back to the surface.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

selective hearing

The house is quiet save a steady and grating ticking from the clock a top the mantle, and I'm thinking or writing but who knows what will come. My life is simple in it's complexities. Wife to a wonderful though drained and down trodden first year resident, mother to two gorgeous children. A gregarious two year old in a current state of attachment to me that I both love and loathe in one emotion, who loves me fiercely unless I get in his way or turn off the TV. A beautiful and content 4 month old daughter who is so lovely despite being marred by a cosmetic defect whose cause is still a mystery to medicine. I love these roles, I don't mind being defined by them, I am grateful to be trusted to support and develop the lives of these three wonderful people, but I'm often wondering if there is something more for me. I'm scared to know, scared to try and fail. I'd almost rather never know that I could have made an impact. Almost.

The days in this yellow house are often full of life, full of laughter and tower building and staring into the eternally loving eyes of a nursing child; and I KNOW that I am happy here. But like a dark and menacing cloud there is ever a whisper in my heart, a tiny resonating voice trying to convince me that I should not be at peace, that I should resent my husband for how little he does around the house, that I am failing my child by letting him watch 2 hours of TV a day, that I am not measuring up. When I pause, when I am still, I know the truth. I know that I wouldn't want my sweet spouse spending his precious time doing dishes and chores in lieu of chasing our little man through the house, or thrashing about with him to heavy metal. I know my son will be better off watching Elmo so that Mom can have some peace than dealing with a stressed and temperamental mother. I know that I am doing the best I can, even if I also know that I can do better, that each day is a day to push myself a little more. Those are the things that matter. I have to get it out of my head that there is always more I and he could do for our children and each other. I have to drown out the whispers with truths.

So I guess the point of me writing this is speak for mothers, to speak up against the guilt we bang ourselves against day in and day out. Fight the whispers and find a quiet moment to let your heart soar on the beauty of who your are and who your family is because of you.

And that is the first thing I chose to write.

The First

A sermon and a friend got me thinking.

I don't believe in myself much, I often view myself as mediocre at many things, not talented or exceptional. Maybe if I take hold of one of the unimpressive skills, coddle and caress and encourage it a bit, just maybe it could be exceptional. Olympic and impacting. Maybe I'll start with writing.