yellow diamonds in the light

As the Shepherd says, “Love is beautiful, but it is also terrible–terrible in its determination to allow nothing unblemished or unworthy to remain in the beloved” (179).

Sometimes without even knowing it sadness creeps in. It’s such a cozy blanket, almost comforting but the truth is that it’s debilitating. Once it’s wrapped around it becomes an extension of everything you are. Often it’s hard to realize how low you are feeling until a little spark of joy comes along. That moment of pure bliss is able to illuminate how overshadowed everything else has overtaken by unhappiness. I kind of grew up on C.S. Lewis, where would I be without him and his ability to state such obvious truths about life and remind me that I’ll have these moments from time to time. Though it’s tough to choose one of my favorite quotations of his is, “God loves us too much to leave us as we are.”

One my favorite books is Hind’s Feet on High Places, allow me to squeeze a shout out to my LCHS girls! I find myself going back to this book a lot and I decided to re-read it yet again. Honestly, I’m considering devoting a month of blogging to it because it’s just that powerful. I won’t get too into a synopsis now but the main character is Much Afraid who is on a journey to the High Places by The Shepherd and the companions he gives her are Suffering and Sorrow. Right now this speaks to me, I know that seems a bit much but what am I if not melodramatic?

Not to worry there’s still joy…there’s always joy. From the smallest and often over looked gestures to the gratefulness of my very existence. Here are a few things lately that bring an unforced smile and brighten my days.

peppermint tea, my Clarisonic, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers,

new festive pajama pants, We Found Love by Rihanna, tan towels,

glittery polishes and most of all unyielding hope

...and many more...

As if a rapidly approaching birthday wasn’t enough, I hurt myself getting into the car today. Ouch! I guess stuff like that happens when you get older. I don’t want to be negative when it comes to birthdays and growth and change for that matter but I can’t seem to shake the little gray cloud atop my head. I try reciting all the things I’m thankful for and believe me there’s a lot but I still feel hazy.

Within the last few years, for some reason birthdays and new years have been a little harder to swallow. They are definitely time for reflection and goals however how do you keep the “improvements and goals” from overshadowing the celebration? The pressures, mostly my own, are ever present. Things that I thought would happen or know by now haven’t and as I’m learning to deal with that being another year older manages to put an expiration date on things. It’s silly really because another year is a blessing and if anything signifies more time, and as easy as that concept is to explain it’s hard to believe.

As relative as words like age, time, and the numbers that identify them go I still have my own personal opinions on them and it’s starting to get scarily close to what I worry is too late. One promising growth is that I’m finally getting better at recognizing what I want and allowing myself to ask for these things. And the truth is I’m going big, this year I have many hopes for new firsts, long desired accomplishments, overwhelming fulfillments, progresses I never knew about and many more wishes to be granted.

it’s a complicated rythm of checks and balances

One for me, one for you. Two for me, two for you. All day, every day. As much as I dislike this trait I am a Scorekeeper. Effortlessly tallying up tip for tap, blow for blow. I personally find myself obnoxious in painstaking acknowledgment of these events. I can feel the hash marks burning onto the chalkboard housed in my memory. Whether it is in relation to good deeds or bad, money, favors, objects, I find myself in a constant state of mathematics, adding and subtracting.

I am aware how irrational and destructive this type of behavior is but still I calculate. I’m not assuming it’s all based on control issues and maybe I’m just more competitive than I thought. The passive part of me knows that it’s simple an act of respect, if something belongs to someone or is owed to them I waste no time it balancing the scales…hey I am of course a Libra.

Growing up with a single mom it was imperative to keep score. A very busy, working mom and three outrageous children left especially little additional time to meet physical and emotional needs. Calling dibs and shouting redundant reminders was the only way to ensure that people would “remember” whose turn it was to enjoy whatever the desire in question was. See, who needs a therapist to announce my psychosomatic inclinations.

This dirty laundry is embarrassing and until it’s under control it could sabotage any relationship I posses or hope to, whether it be personal, professional or a random encounter. I’m praying that this oppression is healed because as much as I try to fix me I know that my flesh can only do so much. For any of you that find yourself in a similar situation I’ve found loads of instructive and encouraging scriptures.

I Thess 5:13 James 1:20 I Corn 13:5 I Peter 4:8

Col 3:15 Phil 2:3-4 Psalms 37:7-8

Reason is also choice.

Drifting around in the perpetual state of not knowing exactly what I want but reminded that I am in want of something. For regarding myself as such a professional, organized individual its weird how certain things in life manage to allude me. Would life be easier if I just knew? Would it be better? Let’s start small; simple if you will, topic of choice shall be food because my life revolves around what I eat and what I don’t eat for that matter. I can be very exact at times, I will know exactly what I want, where I want it from and when; along with a smattering of painfully precise demands while other times have a vague inclination of hunger without any direction other than absolute disgust of certain considerations. I’m finding life to be that sporadic. It’s unnerving that it can be so extreme. Sure the spicy ethnic it new and adventurous but beyond that moment or experience everything else might fail in comparison and be bland and frankly unappetizing.

I have never considered myself a fickle person but there are times when I just don’t know…back to food. I have set out two meat options, the age old question beef or chicken? I for the life of me cannot decipher a better meal between the two because neither seems all that appealing at the moment. The only way to solve such a mystery is turn the judgment to my husband, who in truth really has never had a preference about anything. He chooses chicken and in that exact moment I know deep in my heart that is exactly what I don’t want! This will probably remain and unsolved mystery. Based on the immediate look of distain on my face my husband knows I’ve vetoed his choice. This happens a lot. According to my father in law, my mother in law does the same thing quite often. Maybe it’s the result of marrying the men we did or maybe it’s designed deep within my second X chromosome that’s got me wonky.

Either way how is it I know nothing and then the slightest push or pull one way or the other is enough to define what I’d been mulling over for far too long? Should I start approaching people with Door 1 or Door 2; option A or B? I’m not planning on making decisions based on what they want but maybe it’s that spark that will disclose what I want. It’s all in the details…from each of my indistinguishable preferences come all the other curious thoughts, and I just don’t know, at least not yet.

Marriage is an adventure, like going to war.

The other day I was talking to my friends about blogging of course, and expressing my longing to post about the basic events of my daily life. For whatever reason this seems to be beyond my capability and I am only designed to create emotional, cerebral accounts or at least have a moral and purpose behind my story. It almost seems silly because I don’t necessary expect people to appreciate my comings and goings but for whatever reason I want to attempt this challenge. There are regular moments of anecdotal humor that needs some record or acknowledgment.

For instance, as I type , I’m sidelining a text fight with my husband. Being the smarty pants I consider myself I put my foot down on gift purchases. I was sick and tired of purchasing registry gifts for our friends. I was doing all the work and spending but only getting partial credit. The real issue is that I have a hard time buying things and not grabbing a fair few desirous items for myself. Here we are a mere two days away and nothing was been done…and it’s killing me! Then hark, an incoming text, my husband got a gift. What in the what what? After pride and shock pass, I dare ask the question that will only end badly, what did you get them? Dish towels. Eek! Yes, they are on the registry. Yes, they are functional. But how can I explain the Emily Post-esque etiquette to him that they are an additive gift, not the singular, stand alone type? I know this is my fault but seriously? This never crossed his typically ostentatious spending habit self? Oh and being the big spender he is be had them gift wrapped. Hmph.

This very same man, whom I knew was eccentric upon marrying him though admired it more in an endearing way, made me dinner the other night. I’m still trying to grasp the concept. If you haven’t heard me say this, this is my husband that doesn’t even heat up his own leftovers. I can’t entirely blame him because I witnessed a déjà vu with his mom and dad about the microwave and I’m convinced it must be hereditary. Turns out I had an unexplained high fever and was miserably poached on the couch and after whining I managed to convince him I needed pecan pancakes. Leave it to me to be difficult even when fighting a staggering 102 fever. I watched him and corrected ever possible misstep I witnessed until my talking privileges were revoked and my dinner held ransom. He was paying particular attention to them cook, which was a relief since I would soon be ingesting them. As he walked my plate over he slipped out a mischievous giggle. Being the astute wife I am, I knew. How could I not have suspected? There so delicately designed were two pecan pancakes one in the shape of a bunny which he anxiously pointed out the nose, ears and tail and the other not to be overshadowed was the R-rated illustration of anatomy that present company doesn’t possess. Sometimes I forget I’m married to a 13yr boy.

I cannot make this stuff up but hey this is me and I gotta say these are regular occurrences and I personally get a kick out of them, that is after I move beyond my agitation.

because. because. because.

I’m back and have not been away for lack of things to share. I was more in a place of not sure how to share my thoughts, the real ones at least. I wish I could recycle this mood and tap into it on days when a little extra motivation is needed. I’m overcome with a desire “to do, “to complete” and it feels good but something’s unnatural about this high because my emotions of late have robbed any sense of priority of getting thru my day to day. Along with my kung fu fast hands my brain seems to be processing things rapidly as well. Mixed in with all of it is a defining question, why is it so hard to share the good?

This is something I’m not alone in and of that I am certain. Sure, it’s hard for me to share the bad but then again sharing has never been my strong point. Why do I have a tiny sense of guilt with my successes? I’ve actually managed to lose 5lbs and gotta tell you I’m pretty stoked but why do I hesitate in telling people? I’m doing well at my job and absolutely love it but I hardly mention it to others. Why is this? I have my very own cheerleading section that would be ecstatic to know these things and would highly doubt any attack on my joy, so why not?

I’ve had my word vomit under control a long time ago, though for the few moments I’m with the dearest of friends and need to detox so the deepest darkest confessions I’m about to mention rarely see the light of day. The truth is maybe it’s because I struggle in being in others people’s joy. I certainly know how to cry in their sorrows but the other isn’t something I’m good at and I’m ashamed. There is real, sincere happiness when someone experiences a blessing but later when I’m alone there’s a quiet hurt. I never want to take away the wonderful from others so why it is these wounds continue to bleed?

The other day when I was feeling especially unpleasant I found out someone I think is exceptional, whom I naively imagine hardly ever deals with disappointments, had experienced something unthinkable. I was heartbroken. Like I said I know how to empathize all too well. I had one of the obvious realizations that have to actually occur before it clicks. But we’re all the same, triumphs and struggles, spoken or unspoken, noticed or not they are there. It’s not exactly comforting but they’ll always be a yin and a yang that balances each of us and that might be worth remembering next time I avoid disclosure or dwell on shortcomings.

search party

I find myself more quiet and cerebral lately. I’m so aware of others triumphs and tragedies it’s all I can do to not break. Just a few thoughts…

sometimes it’s okay to be silent
do-over’s are make believe but second chances are real
dwelling and remembering are two very different acts

I find myself wandering the internet like one of those late night trips to Target when you don’t need a thing but manage to buy a cart full as you mosey down each isle and bask in the calm. Not sure what I’m looking for but I know I’ll find at best a distraction on the world wide web. I don’t follow too many blogs unless I know the person otherwise I find myself hypercritical of the author or (gasp!) my own blogging efforts. Truth be told I’m pretty noncommittal with the blogs of perfect strangers, some have information and others just comic relief. I often wonder what’s wrong with me when I see so many followers on a given blog and wonder what I’m missing… I came across a woman’s post the other day and I’m sure this is in poor blog etiquette but I had to repost. I’ve never visited her page before so I’m not sure what all it entails but I got a good laugh out of it and the ways people attempt to be comforting but sometimes these things are better left unspoken, please excuse the language as I didn’t edit her post.


I have been thinking about the crappy things that people have said to me in the past few weeks – here is a rundown of some of the gems:
1. Everything happens for a reason. – If you can’t tell me the god damn reason that this happened, get the hell out of my face.
2. Time heals all wounds. - Neosporin heals wounds. If you don’t do something to help the wound it gets infected.
3. Be grateful for what you have. I am grateful for what I have. I am still allowed to mourn my loss. I am still being a mother to my child and a wife to my husband. I am still being a sister to my brothers and a daughter to my mother.
4. At least you didn’t lose a real baby. Yes, I can only imagine the loss of a full term child, or even a child that you spent years with is much harder. The thought of anything happening to Jace has always been my nightmare. I am not comparing battle scars. If that is the case, there are so many people who have gone through worse. This is not a contest I would want to win.
5. You can always try again. Yes, we can. Thanks for that piece of helpful advice. Not.
6. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. No shit.
7. Just let it go. Seriously? Apparently you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Would I be the kind of person who should be a mother if losing my 4th pregnancy in a row did not make me a little sad?

This is my dance space. This is your dance space.

The other day I got Dirty Dancing for a steal of a deal. The fact that I don’t already own it is nothing short of a travesty and frankly shocking! It’s probably due to the fact that many moons ago when we had television it played at least once every weekend on TBS or TNT and I could satisfy my insatiable need for awesomely bad one hit wonders and seriously dated hair and dance moves. I’d been feeling an overwhelming desire to watch it for some time now and for whatever reason made it my mission last Friday after a terribly long clinic and ta-da scored the last copy at Target for $5.00 and had a tickle me Elmo death grip or whatever the new thing is these days on it all the way to the register. One thing people probably don’t realize is here in the mountains resources are limited and if you can’t find it here it requires a trip to Denver or a dreaded mail delivery from let’s say Amazon that may or may not make it to my P.O. Box. We’re certainly not the hill people or anything but I do get a little extra excited when I find exactly what I’m looking for right when I’m looking for it.

Let’s just say I’ve watched it more than once in the short span of time that was my weekend. A mix between my thirst for knowledge and my handy-dandy iPhone I always “research” films as I watch them and Dirty Dancing was no different. First note, they are in works for a remake which I am surprisingly alright with, until that is I decided I can’t stand who’s cast. My initial thought was “oh Zac Efron would be amazing” because I can no longer hide my love ever since the first HSM and feel a little less of a pedophile knowing he’s 23yrs old but still a bit icky. (But if I find out he’s really with Rumer Willis we’re done!) Back on track…turns out people are already talking about him in the lead so dreams can come true.

I guess the most interesting factoid was that it almost never was. Apparently Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze couldn’t stand each other and had previously worked with one another in Red Dawn. Their mutual distain was so strong that they both dropped the film and the producer forced them to watch the screen test to witness the undeniable chemistry and that’s how movie magic happens, people. Also thought provoking was the fact that Patrick Swayze was 34yrs old when it filmed. I did the math myself because I could hardly believe he was more than in his mid 20’s.

Now the funny part of this movie that enraptured my childhood was that for years I never know what in the world was going on. Granted, I was young and naïve but guess I didn’t really need explanations because it really was all about the musical numbers, right? Come to find out Penny was pregnant. Yeah a major part in the story line that I happened to miss. In the time the movie was set it was a pretty controversial issue and people didn’t discuss things like we do. I mean they never said “pregnant” it was “she’s in trouble” and abortion was “help her”. Learning or realizing the nature of the issue made it more dramatic that I’d ever given it credit for.

Oh and I’m not sure if I’m the only one that constantly experiences moments of déjà vu or just the only one who notices…this was more of my Truman Show moments, those ones where it’s so eerily on point with your life that the universe has patched together enough random events that could only be applicable for your enjoyment. No? Am I the only one? Anyway Saturday when I pull into the grocery store lot there is a guy straight up rocking out to “She’s Like the Wind” by our very own Johnny Castle! Okay, who rocks out to that? Totally had to be a first and a song most infamously known as a power ballad from the adult contemporary section, needless to say it made my day and spurned me to watch the flick again.

I’ve included a song from my favorite clip in the national treasure that is Dirty Dancing. Enjoy!

Diagnosis: identification of the nature/cause of anything

Reading. Learning. Research. This whole PCOS thing is a complete enigma; then again being female we have a tendency to posses many mysteries. Apparently I have an over-abundance of testosterone aka the boy-mome. I thought I read it wrong at first because I felt more like a woman than ever. The whole concept is overwhelming and all I can do is gather tidily-bits here and there. As with everything in life each situation is different ,as are the people than encompass it. I’m learning to take testimonials with a grain of salt and not have a meltdown when I disagree with someone’s interpretation of the condition.

Those of you whom I’m were dying to know, I started! The girls at work and I celebrated, yeah it was a pretty big deal. Of course I was indisposed for over a week and could barely walk but feel like I’m shifted out of neutral. Wouldn’t you know it too, my skin cleared up and I lost 6lbs. Odd how it’s the week we ate out almost every night, which in truth is very unlike us. It felt good to wear real pants again, though I love my leggings I was feeling a little sloppy there for a bit. Oh and my skin is amazing, clear skin is so underrated in my opinion. For whatever reason I always associated breakouts with bad hygiene, aka just plain dirty. Of course that doesn’t apply to everyone I guess I’m the case in point for that but it’s made a huge difference in my overall demeanor.

I’m meeting with my naturopath next week to get a menu board going and I’ve gotta tell you it freaks me out. I’ve said for years, “I don’t know how people do it!”. Of course there’s always my dramatic references like Shelby from Steel Magnolias, yeah I’m not diabetic but apparently it kind of mimics in the way the body processes sugar. I so sympathize with people and food restrictions, lactose intolerance, diabetics, celiac, or any allergy or aversion and dieters in general. The fact is I’ve never deprived myself from anything I wanted, back before this I ate what I wanted and frankly looked good, even if I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Obviously things could be a lot worse but I’ve got some serious adjustments to make after 28 years of caution to the wind it’s time to change it up.

I haven’t felt like me or looked like me as far as I’m concerned in a long, long time. Hopefully a combination of my motivation and information will keep me from becoming too discouraged and get me back to me, healthy me. Oh and special thanks to my wonderful friends for the resources and encouragement!

for those that wonder

So I haven’t “really” blog in a couple weeks, certainly not the end of the world but nonetheless absent from this cathartic ritual of exposing more than I ever dared or thought possible. I find myself escaping life in other avenues and pining away for adventures yet to be had. You can’t image the hours spent on travel websites last week. I also plunged full force into dress shopping for a wedding I’ll be attending in September. So many colors, materials, styles and prints… a harmless escape to my online cart that never checks-out. Surface wise this shouldn’t be a growing concern.

For whatever reason I thought about my blog and writing almost every day last week and almost childlike refused to share even a word. It’s hard to determine the exact emotion or what was manufacturing it but I know that I needed to breath out these truths no matter how embarrassing, selfish, trivial they may be, that was why I engaged in this process anyway.

It’s hard to make what I’m feeling come across as witty or endearing because I’m just a mess. Most of the things I’ve been saying and feeling lately aren’t even me. Out of simple fear that the evil comments running around my head get loose I’ve just distanced myself from everyone and everything determined to try to cope and deal.

At the risk of sounding completely melodramatic my current affliction is the fact that my last period was April 23rd, 2011. For those of you who aren’t mathematicians that’s over 100 days and a little more that 14 weeks. If someone had told me they’d experienced this I’d probably be secretly jealous, for those of you that know me my cycles are nightmarish and I can’t say that I’d mind missing one or two. Obviously flaw in this would be miraculous gift is you can’t get pregnant if you’re body isn’t working properly. The second being that I am completely and utterly miserably. I’d probably go about my business and see this blessed vacation as a gift if it weren’t for this. You know that feeling the 24hrs-12hrs before you start when you “just know”…that sense that your just about to lose control of your body for the next few days? I wake with it, work with it, sleep with it. I’m sure I don’t need to delve into the universal symptoms and extreme discomfort that go along with this prolonged process.

One thing and a big thing I’d like to liberate into the digital world is a diagnosis I got from my OBGYN a couple weeks back. It turns out that I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). Frankly, I’d suggest looking it up because I’m still trying to determine in laymen’s terms what it entails. Apparently it’s fairly common, like 5%-10% of women suffer from it after my sarcastic response of “great I get to be another statistic, aren’t I lucky to be so numerically challenge”, I felt a slightly relieved. The associated symptoms are direct concerns that have come up over that last few years such as my fertility issues, weight gain and skin problems. I sincerely thought I’d been punished for perfect skin in my teenage years and to go through such physical changes without cause made me feel out of control and insane.

This turned out more like a journal entry but I need to keep the people that are special to me close and I know they want to support me so it was worth sharing. This is me and my dailies right now.

I’m having a moment…

What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?

a dash of Micah 6:8 and a splash of Matthew 4:4

We all have our favorite smells and spices. That special ability to make a recipe our own, fashioned just right to our particular needs and cravings. Sometimes certain combinations have that just right marriage of complete rebirth into something that you never knew you always wanted. Aside from the obvious salty with sweet or chocolate with peanut butter, life mixes in the strangest dashes of obstacles and experiences.

I’ve been struggling to make my Colorado church my home. I can’t help it, I grew up and got to attend some pretty amazing congregations and based on that luxury I continually let my expectations exceed reality. Actually that’s a general issue with me. The fact is I’ve been sabotaging my relationship with my church. The worship isn’t as good, the pastor looses my attention, and the people are unusual etc... This isn’t a judgment passed on them but more an excuse for me to remain unconnected.

Sunday happened to be a mini breakthrough for me. There’s usually at least one key point in a message that feels like a sucker punch but this time it was an illumination of everything. I barely had time to recover from a statement before another equally as powerful and humbling as the one that preceded it…I couldn’t write fast enough and frankly I barely got most of it on paper for fear of being distracted.

Our general series is about loving one another but the leading subject was spiritual growth. This is always convicting and I’m left to wonder if I’m growing in the proper increments. Like when a parent worries if their child isn’t developing at the rate of others…haunted by comparisons. Somewhere in-between the scriptures and explanations we approached the topic of nutrition came up. My light bulb started to flicker. Ding! For years my spiritual feedings have been a strict diet of baby food. I’ve had these fresh prepared meals catered to suit my personal taste.

As of late, in my new church, I’ve been malnourishing myself, rejecting certain things because I didn’t care for the look or taste of things immediately. I’ve been living like I’d been offered a buffet and I could pick and choose as I pleased. I guess that’s alright for some people and on occasion but just as I need to have a balanced healthy diet in my human body my spiritual body longs for it. Things wouldn't function otherwise or even shut down if not properly tended to.

Just to continue with the literal analogy and switch off my childlike “picky-eater syndrome” I’m going to learn to start cutting my own meat again and eating properly, no more taste testing and adjusting the menu. In this process I hope to mature my palate and develop a taste for life the way He’s intended me to.

reciprocate my love

A pen and paper but words have no sound.
A walk with a breeze but not a thought to hold.
Light notes and pale colors…
I’d like for you to go away.
A part that’s longing to forget.
Getting into these mistakes is aged.
New days with revelations is growth.
Breaking past moments and waiting,
Define me.

the good, the bad, and the absurd

I’m going to tell you something and hope it gets forgotten. Sometimes I wander onto message boards I have no business to being a part of… Back when I was pregnant I got into The Bump. Possibly the worst idea ever. Too much information. Too much negativity. Just too much. I was terrified of every little symptom or lack of them but I couldn’t get away. I was completely sucked into it, while despising the drama the mean girls would create and vicariously living through the naïve and blissfully pregnant. What is it about others seemingly mundane lives that is so engrossing? I guess this begs the concept of reality tv. Okay, I’m getting off track, the thing is I have been known to creep around on there a bit. Okay maybe a lot. Possibly daily.

I pick and choose the boards I enjoy, sometimes for comic relief other times just for a sense of unity. I dare not post in fear that I may be attacked for using the wrong acronym or re-posting a question that’s been answered previously. Sheesh. Makes you wonder why it’s there when it’s been corrupted by so many people unwilling to help without a slap on the wrist? Like I said aside from moments when I just want to scream “What is wrong with you people?!?!” it can be funny, actually hysterical. Mostly due to my un-posted, will-never-see-the-light-of-day remarks.

Last week I was on the “Baby Name Board”, quite possibly my favorite because the same women seem to patrol it regularly with their rules and regulations on spelling, originality, likes and dislikes etc… While I was lurking perusing there happened to be a post with my baby name on it. Gasp! (Please note I have no baby to speak of.) I almost had a meltdown ala Charlotte from the first season of Sex and the City:

No, it's not my name. It's my name, my secret baby name that I made up when I was 11 years old for my daughter when I had her. I told you. Don't tell me you don't remember!

Hi, my name is Rachel and I am a secret baby namer. I have names that I’ve loved for years and am unyielding even if they aren’t met with the same appeal as others. I don’t tell my names, because yeah someone could “steal” it or even a version of it. Plain silliness because I didn’t invent it or own right to it. Either way, I calming clicked to read the responses and everyone hated it. Secretly I was thrilled thinking that due to the unanimous pessimistic reactions she’d dismiss the name. Then again slightly defensive as to why it was such an “awful” name. I find myself stalking the poor woman hoping she brings up other name ideas. I may need an intervention.

connected by mercy and forgivness

This is a blog to a friend. Obviously, this is a public forum and honestly it might apply to a lot of others in their own past, present, future, personal situations. Today I feel humbled. I am surrounded by moments that I’m currently unable to define and often not capable of mending.

I know. I understand. I’m right there with you. I’ve been watching a crack slowly run across my life, then quickly patched it up and as I run the other way. One single break multiples into dozens before my eyes. Maybe if I don’t watch it closely it won’t happen again or doesn’t exist under my hasty remedy. I see it building, the unsteadiness and the instability, so when it breaks I’m not exactly surprised but even with the foreshadow I’m not ready for the crushing emotion. These moments always manage to magnify all the other imperfections. I see myself running from person to person, situation to situation, moment to moment, patching up all my doubts and concerns hoping that either no one notices or just as a survival tactic to keep me from the moment(s) of complete despair.

It never works. No matter how fast I run. No matter what words I try and renovate it with. Not even the distractions I attempt to avoid it with. I had a moment like this last week and did my best to bypass the culminating issues and then…can you guess? Think… I thought of a song. If you haven’t figured it out I’m a musical person. It’s interesting because this wasn’t a worship song. And I’m going to say something and hope, hope, hope someone gets it. Sometimes you think you’ve heard it all, the scriptures that seem to appeal to every and any situation and it’s met with an I know, I know, we all know. Please don’t think I’m discrediting the impact they have but sometimes, for me at least, I need a “fresh” approach and one that I’ve managed to “discover” on my own and beyond that support is the only thing I desire.

Now that I think I’ve made that clear back to the point. The song was by Ingrid Michaelson …go figure, totally adore her. Pretty sure I’ve heard it numerous times and I’m sure it’s about a failed romance or something or other. It’s pretty peppy so I’ve managed to really not dwell on the words. It’s that one “Be Ok” and I think most are familiar with it. The line’s about “gallery of broken hearts” and “let me hold my broken parts” was like an instant revelation. I think I actually got a visual. With any mess we’re so quick to run and clean it up. I always get that quick satisfaction afterword of “see, all better”.

I’ll try not to generalize here but for me, for now, this will no longer do. I’m holding all my broken parts. I can almost literally see them in a duffle bag on the floor next to me. They are mine and they belong to me. I’m not getting rid of them because they’ve been fractured or they won’t fit as well as they used to or imagined they would. When it’s time and I’m ready I will put each one back on individually, relishing in the recovery. I’m no longer trying to rush through these moments only to have my Jenga house topple. It’ll take time and I’ll be walking around bruised and bandaged and maybe even bare a few holes but I think knowing this has giving me more optimism than I’ve had in awhile and keeps me from recycling the same emotions and anguish.

Newton's 3rd Law

Why do people want to change? I mean it’s alright for me to be dissatisfied and pine away days hoping, dreaming, wishing I had Emma Stone’s comedic timing, Eva Mendes’ skin, Alison Sudols’ ability to charm a tune and on and on and on... I think it’s healthy to appreciate other women and the beauties and characteristics that make them special. I don’t think it gets done nearly enough, it’s probably based on our own insecurities and that’s why we can’t openly acknowledge and welcome exquisiteness in all the facets it exists. Maybe if we all start embracing each other for the individuality we all posses whether it be natural or learned it would empower us to accept and love ourselves? Wouldn’t that be something…

Always striving for more and achieve additional moments of acceptance I lose track in the unrealistic expectation and not due to the media but myself. I’d be lying if I said image wasn’t important to me. The truth is I can be extremely shallow when it comes to me, not others. I could care less what so-and so’s hair color is or her shoe brand etc… but for whatever reason I constantly demand a certain level of “show” for myself. People that know me are fully aware of my endless wardrobe; I’m sure I could clothe a small village and make sure they’re perfectly accessorized. Granted, I don’t spend a fortune on clothes but I do feel the need to present myself in a certain fashion and it’s almost like a pastime. The truth is I don’t need these clothes. So long as my items fit properly and are in good condition and let’s not forget at least a little bit socially acceptable that should be fine. Right?

Realizing the constant need to adorn my body with fashion choices that draw attention to the actually articles and distract from me is hard to swallow. I know it’s something I can get a handle on slowly but surely. What is it they say? Acceptance in the first step?

As far as progress goes, I’ve been really into my nails lately. Odd, I know. The thing is I’ve always been insecure about them and wore fake nails for years to experience the illusion of great nails. You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about but they aren’t terrible by any means. My nails beds are really short and wow I sound ridiculous. Anybody see Mean Girls? The scene where they’re standing in the mirror criticizing themselves and Karen says “My nail beds suck!” Umm, yeah I love it because I could totally relate. Sorry just proving my point that it is a valid, perhaps even a common concern. What I mean to say it that I’ve dedicated time to the very thing that I lack confidence in. Every Sunday night I get my supplies together and prep my nails for the week. It’s my new thing and it really has improved my work week and boosted my poise. I guess there’s something to be said for being well manicured.

All in all I’ve made a little bet with myself and I’m hoping to keep it logged. For the ENTIRE week my goal is to take a minimalist approach. That’s right people, not sure how I’m going to pull this off but maybe my experiment will prove positive. Wish me luck!

tan's fade, but memories last forever

I’ve never been a Summery girl…I’m a Fall/Winter gal and those season’s just suit my personality. To me it’s the clothes: boots, sweaters, scarves, the fresh chill and ember warmth, foods, flavors, earthy colors and just the mellow vibe in the closing of a year. Even my musical stylings seem to reflect these inclinations. It’s totally me forever and always. Whoa, how can I get back to my ode to summer after that? Too much reminiscing…

The point of this was to express my new found appreciation for summer and all the wonders that it holds. I think my disdain for summer had something to do with growing up in middle America with the smothering humidity and stifling heat. I don’t pull off uncomfortably hot that well. Some girls glisten and glow with their effortless beachy waves and ooze a casual beauty in spaghetti straps…and uh well I’m not one of them. All of this translates to me being sweaty and frizzy and I require more support than most summer tops are willing to offer and am far too conscious to let additional tacky straps show.

Alright, I’m trying to get to the point but I think I’m finally at the spot where I get the summer lovin’. Not sure what brought it on; possible the long winter and/or maybe even my maturing into an adult that can appreciate things that aren’t may preferences. So here we go my current Top Eight Loves of Summer!

1. watermelons, mangos, strawberries, kiwis and all their sticky sweetness
2. sun dresses and jean jackets for the less confident
3. that one song every summer brings that everyone loves and comes on each time you turn on the radio…that is until late July, early August when you hope to never hear it again
4. and 5. the season embracing bright and bold nail polish colors and the flip flops that allow me to show ‘em off
5. the sudden justification that every meal should end in a trip for ice cream
6. probably alone in this... but absolutely love getting into a car warmed by the sun when I’m slightly chilled
7. the almost spontaneous super power of SMELL : cookouts, rain, bonfires, fresh cut grass, ocean, fireworks
8. impromptu escapes to St. Louis because it seems to be the only time to get away

clubs with initiation rights

Nope. Sorry, this is NOT an announcement but a vent as I collapse in exasperation unto my blog. I’m going to attempt to make a cohesive post from all these thoughts and emotions. If I was ever concerned about people judging me now would be a good time.

Disappointment can be suffocating. My expectations are constantly exceeding reality. I find myself daydreaming wouldn’t it be nice if I woke up pregnant? Ridiculous concept but sometimes it feels like that happens to other people all the time. I actually had a cruel dream that I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. Torture. It’s like that lottery fantasy I waste time planning how I would spend multiple millions when in truth I’ve never even bought a lottery ticket. I’ve never been one to take the lazy approach so why am I enamored with thoughts of the easy way up or out? Why do I think this will happen? Should it? What makes me different?

Question after question laced with a hint of resentment. This really isn’t me at all. I’m counting on it being a phase, an ugly one. Just so everyone knows my heartbreak doesn’t take from any of the joy and love I feel for others. I haven’t struggled with pity too much other than an occasional lapse. Life wasn’t necessarily easy for me and that’s not something I’ll deny but I completely embrace it because without those struggles I wouldn’t be me. I know, totally cliché but oh well. But this time, just this once, I’m ready for a handout.

I feel bad about saying that because my experience isn’t anything special and pales in comparison to others that I can’t even imagine their misfortunes. I feel like a bad person but if something just happened I can’ imagine I’d appreciate it any less…I wouldn’t have to face choices and truths I’m just not ready to deal with…but I guess that’s not the plan. Later in life when these dreams are fulfilled, and they will be one way or the other, this will lose focus and importance, because in eternity this is but a glimpse.

troubles melt like lemon drops

I am a fantastic liar. In part, it’s because I’m my mother’s daughter, this isn’t meant in an offensive tone and she would be the first to agree, but another is the obvious fact that I’m female. I’m not talking about my uncanny ability to simulate an entirely phony scenario but more the things I am convince myself of regularly. I don’t put my hereditary talent to use but for whatever reason without purpose my mind will develop a fabricated account of something. Hopefully there’s no judgment in this omission because if I can’t be honest here then I might as well not blog at all.

Aside from that fault, I think it’s something that as women we struggle with almost daily. Now there are exceptions to everything, though I don’t know any “real” ladies exempt of this. My friends all have their struggles, embarrassments, insecurities etc… I guess I choose to associate with people just as neurotic as I am. Ask me to make a list of my dislikes or flaws and I could fill a page effortlessly. This is not a moment of false humility and not a desperate attempt to fish for compliments…that is a pet peeve of mine by the way.

For whatever reason a falsehood that I have bought into, hook, line and sinker, is that I’m just not as congenial as I want to be, need to be. Sure there’s physical attributes I could criticize but the ones that critique my personality are the most offensive because in reality it’s unchanging. Anyway, last night I went to an event and I was skeptical about socializing with old coworkers. Well the most amazing thing happened; they were thrilled to see me. Genuinely. It felt good to be the reason for the excitement to re-establish relationships that have gone dormant. People were talking to me with such excitement and demanding I make plans to get together. Why was I so astonished? Why had I been so cautious?

It’s me; it’s all in my head. I may not be a social butterfly but I do make my own contributions and without arrogance think that I must bring some enjoyment but for whatever reason feel the need to critique myself. Taking so much pride in my independence I sometimes play it off like I don’t need these relationships as much as I really do. I’m certainly not the most popular but I do offer a “likability factor” to which I’ve always managed to make friends, once you get past any involuntary facial expression that may seem intimidating. I’ve never been the Serena van der Woodsen or Blair Waldorff though there are some eerie similarities I share with Queen B. For others too old for the reference I’d be Lisa Turtle not Kelly Kaposwki. Sorry to get all Sally Field “you like me, you really like me” and I really need to stop with the celebrity references, but I have a sense of relief.

It always seems like it’s something. ..When I was skinny, I was never skinny enough… funny enough, spiritual enough, successful enough, likable enough. I’d like to start appreciating myself more and others for that matter. A compliment from someone is just about the most naturally high for me. I find myself grinning hours afterwards, sometimes even days. I want to feel good about myself and I want others to experience that feeling as well. Self loathing and rejection are robbing me and I’m starting to realized even the little unconscious slips are just as dangerous as all out disgust. Kind of rambling but I wanted to share my struggle to find balance and peace. It’s been a grueling and long journey but I think I’m coming back to contentment.

dream a little dream with me

An easy no fuss way to let you know what's going on in my life and what's on my mind. I'm certain your thinking it...Yes, I'm totally blogging the lazy way this week. Guilty!

My current nail polish...yeah it's not for everyone.

The last book I read…literally stayed up all night to read it in one day.

Last movie I saw…worth.every.penny.period.

An adventure I’m contemplating…one word PLATNIUM!

What I’d love to be doing at this moment…then again who wouldn’t?

Daydreaming about ...sweet, foamy goodness...

Most recent purchase… sometimes I just stare at it, sigh.

Wait...where's Edward?

It feels like forever since my last blog. In real time it’s been a little more than a week while emotionally it’s could have translated into months. I’ve been avoiding it really. My mood hasn’t been the best for sharing. It seems that not saying anything has kept me in good terms and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Besides I don’t want to be that person. Just a lot of blah, meh, ugh, hmph days.

It’s pretty insane how way weather can affect the psyche…which I assume it partly to blame for my frame of mind. It’s been snowing A LOT here and yes I live in Colorado but it’s nearing the end of May and we enjoy summers here too. I mean it’s not Antarctica! I’m not sure which is gloomier, my mood or the weather…it’s almost like I live in Forks, minus the heartthrob vampires.

Aside from the weather defying the fact that it’s Spring/Summer, I’m having my own trouble adapting. The winter season though arduous and long has become an unhealthy safety net and not just metaphorically. It’s an acceptable excuse for everything i.e. I can’t correspond because I’m so busy with work and I’ll reconnect after ski season. I don’t have to work out or even go outside because it’s below freezing. I’m not required to develop friendships let alone maintain them because we’re all busy until the end of April. Well here we are the end of May and I’ve still managed to avoid everything, friends, family, goals, improvements, projects etc…

It’s kind of discouraging to think about it as a whole. I can feel myself shutting down and closing off. It happens when I get overwhelmed or fall so far behind that I lose the will to catch up. It’s kind of become my M.O. which I joke about but in reality it’s not funny at all.

I’ve been reading this book by Francis Chan, Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God…and I know I’m a few years late but I think that maybe “now” it’s the right time for me. Let me preface this by saying this may not be what others take from the book just my perspective. Anyway there is this basic concept of downsizing my feeling from being in a perpetual state of overwhelmed vs. underwhelmed. Again it’s nothing radical but I’m attempting to ask myself what is my purpose today? Not for my life. Not in the next five years or even next week. Just today. Believe me it’s a struggle, to push aside my other thoughts and worries but I’m feeling relief and even a since of accomplishment instead of dwelling on everything that still needs tending to.

My to-do list looks nothing like its former self. Instead of twenty things I’d love to get done and rejoice in the challenge of defeating it, it’s been reduced to maybe five things though I know I can achieve more I don’t want to experience my life through a book of list even though I love that feeling it’s becoming a hindrance. Yes, only I can turn something good into something ugly. No, I’m kidding and I know I wasn’t going to share and boo-who all over my blog but sometimes it’s these itty-bitty revelations that might really help someone else.

forfeit: something surrendered

Choices are a funny thing. We absolutely demand and even long for them however it’s not too often we enjoy facing them. It’s what’s life’s all about, this free-will thing. Options are everywhere, yes or no; black or white; now or later etc… Quite often it’s more than just two definitive selections but I’m just trying to create a concept.

As of late I have been inundated with choices. Now I love that I can control a situation with my preference(s) but at the moment it’s becoming overwhelming. I find myself wishing it was a simple as chocolate or vanilla and relinquishing my personal independence and choosing strawberry. I have always been rather decisive maybe in part because I decide so quickly to maintain a sense of certainty. Is that something you can grow out of? Did I misplace confidence?

I adore spreadsheets and find a way to incorporate all aspects of my life in them. (I know I need another hobby.) There is something so reassuring about seeing things in print. Columns of pros and cons precisely weigh each thought. Well at least they used to. I can no longer trust my own judgment. I truly believe fear is one of the most powerful weapons but maybe my doubt isn’t generated from that but happiness.

It’s an odd notion but the fact is that there’s no guarantee that my/your happiness will bring the same joy to others. So the choices are to sacrifice happiness or pursue it. I’ve never been fond of selfish people making self-seeking decisions but maybe this is that one time I should consider me.

growing up or grown up

I get so afraid sometimes
our life's never gonna start.

No, baby.

We're already in our life.

It's already started. This is it.

You have to stop waiting, baby.

-from P.S. I Love You

As of late I keep having these momentarily lapses of reality. Have you experienced a complete and total conundrum? I never understood the concept of women lying about their age. Not that I’m starting to lie about my age because that would be ridiculous, at least at present. What I mean to say is I think I get it. I feel old and I also feel young, sometimes within the same instance. I found myself looking at anti-ageing creams at the store and felt embarrassed, not because I felt I needed them but more because I’m not allowed to purchase them yet. Really though, it’s not just the associated physical flaws that unearth themselves as our male counterparts manage with much more grace but the pressure I sense in relation to time.

Hope I’m not stepping on any toes because I’m only in my late twenties, ugh I hate saying that by the way, but this is what’s currently consuming me so watch your feet! I have so many goals that have yet to be achieved; so many dreams unfulfilled it’s almost heartbreaking to think about wasted time. Almost in this very instant I am reassured that there’s still time? Is there? Of course but I’m still not at a point to pursue these experiences. What if by the time I finally am it will have really been too late? Today I found myself Goggling searching “late bloomers” and it was surprisingly comforting to see talented people coming into their own when they were older than I am now.

The quiet adventurer in me could just as well walk away from everything today, without a plan and experience the world but the real me, the everyday me, realizes the flaws in these fantasies. What if what I want isn’t possible? Most of the idealist dreams I have contradict one another and both cannot exist within the same life or even lifetime.

I've been like this for awhile, actually it started quite young. Do you remember the Choose Your Own Adventure book series? I so badly wanted to enjoy them like my friends and classmates did but it wasn’t possible. I feared I might make the wrong choice and miss out. I’d read both chapters to determine what my options really were. Looking back it was kind of cheating, cheating myself out of the fun. I wound up reading them again and again to make sure I’d experience every possible outcome. I didn’t want to miss out. I don’t want to miss out.

sovereign

i know it’s not because you aren’t big enough
i know it’s not because you don’t care
i know it’s not because you aren’t capable
i know it’s not because you love me any less
i know it’s not because you don’t have a plan
i know it’s not because there‘s something wrong with me
i know all the “it’s not because” but sometimes I wish I knew the “it’s because”...

blah, blah, blah

Confession… major slacking going on here, which is so unlike me for the most part. Yesterday I actually asked to go home early. I don’t miss work, I don’t call in sick, I’m the employ that is sent home due to illness and/or overtime. I’ve been unfocussed for about two weeks or so and moseying through my workdays and not accomplishing much at home. Typically I’d be embarrassed to admit this and I did have some guilty moments but I just can’t shake it.


Back to yesterday, I literally asked my boss if I could go home and had no reason for doing so. I still can’t believe it. Because he’s awesome he obliged without question. A better person would have taken advantage of the “free” time and done something productive like run errands, go to the store, clean or even grab a mani-pedi. Nope not me, I hopped in the car, got home, put on my comfy gear and crawled into bed. It was 2pm in the afternoon on a Tuesday and you know what it was fantastic. I really wasn’t even tired, though I did manage to doze off; it was just nice to escape the day and do nothing. When my husband got home he gave me the craziest look and asked if I was alight after I responded I was fine he immediately asked what I was doing. All I could surmise was that I just felt like going home.


I’m not announcing it to rub it in and while it was pleasant and harmless I really need to get it together. Afternoon naps on workdays aren’t acceptable as regular occurrences and it would be nice to feel like “me” again: focused, dedicated, attentive.

Five Question Friday

I seriously can’t believe I’m just now doing my first 5 question Friday post. I’ve been attempting them for weeks and now I get to participate in my first one!

1. What is your favorite sign of spring?
Don’t get me wrong I love all the freshness, flowers, and animals but being up in the mountains warmth isn’t always a guarantee. I mean we just had a snow storm yesterday. My favorite thing is the fact that it’s quieting down. We have ten 10 days left until the mountain closes and you can already feel the relief for us locals. The town is less cramped, my husband will actually get days off the dogs can play outside without getting buried…it’s the pleasant quiet that ensues.

2. What was your best birthday ever?
Well I’m hoping it’s yet to come… They weren’t very celebrated in my family so I never had a clear understanding or true appreciation for them. I have been fortunate enough to be surrounded by amazing, thoughtful friends that have done wonderful acts of kindness on my birthdays and I’m starting to see what all the hype is about.

3. What is your favorite dessert?
I’m not a huge dessert person, but I sure did marry one. I love to cook and bake them but I don’t get excited about too many. I think those of you who know me know that I’m a diehard sno-cone fan…and not just any kind. Shaved ice sno-coned from SnJ are my absolute weakness. I never really considered it a dessert because I personally don’t think there is a time frame needed to eat them.

4. What is the best excuse you've ever used to get out of a ticket?
Surprisingly I have a pretty fantastic record. I think the last time I got pulled over was pretty lame and I was going 4mph over…really. I kinda broke down when he got to the car. And no I wasn’t doing my best Meryl to when an Oscar, I was having just about the worst month of my life and I blurted out that I had just been laid off and that was the truth. He looked taken aback and told me that my record was clean so let’s just consider it a warning.

5. Do you wake up before your alarm, with your alarm, or after hitting snooze several times?
I hate snoozing! I don’t know why someone would subject themselves to those annoying noises over and over again. My husband snoozes and I believe most people do and it has to be the worst way for me to wake up. I regularly manage to wake up and look at my alarm five minutes or so before it actually goes off. Granted I’m not one for sleeping in, never have been and I’m not sure I know how, but ugh that racket, no thank you!

Just hangin' out...at least for now

So over the last month I’ve been in the fast lane…of life that is. I mean I was cruising. Being the control freak… err, I mean Nervous-Nellie I am, I was unexpectedly thrilled in my ability to hang on and as they say just enjoy the ride. As you can imagine that isn’t my natural disposition. Generally, I am fretting and asking, “Where are we going?” “How long until we’re there?” as well as insisting to “Slow down!” “Not now”… to put it mildly I’m not the best travel companion. So back to my sudden fast-track, well it ended. Almost as abruptly as it began. The whole experience was pretty frenzied and conflict/road blocks were everywhere however I was unyielding. It was like I had this “goodbye cruel world, I’m off to bigger and better things” bumper sticker".

Now here I am back at the station waiting for my departure… No sympathy required; it was wonderful and exciting and exhausting. Decidedly I won’t fret about what caused things to seemingly halt because maybe they didn’t and it’s my perspective that is skewed. Though for a minute there I was on the edge of my seat with that antsy oh-oh-pick-me-pick-me-oh-me-me expression.

going, going, gone

Bear with me here people it’s another musical blog…kinda. Well Hillsong United did it again, penned a song that speaks volumes and breaks me beyond what I thought possible. So as I’m driving yesterday Search My Heart is getting played on the radio and as usual I’m singing along almost without realizing it. Later on that day the tune is still in my head, as I hum a sing to myself I stop and comprehend what I’m saying. Yeah, yeah, we sing and talk a lot about “restore my life” “I will follow You” “without You I am nothing” “with all my heart” etc… It’s good and yes this isn’t to take any sentiment or many away from them but what gripped me was the opening and closing line. It only appears three times in the song almost unassuming and modest, “search my heart and search my soul”.

I practically reprimanded myself. Do I even know what that means? Am I aware of the magnitude of this request? Of course nothing can be hidden from Him and my desires and deeds are never fully in secret but worshipping to search my heart makes it all permissible. I am volunteering the information and what that means is now I can be called on it and no longer pretend to be oblivious to a sense of conviction.

This got me thinking about a friend’s blog on bold prayer and her searching for hers. In all truth, most of my big and bold prayers are fairly materialist and selfish, hey I’m being sincere. My GARGANTUAN prayer, that I was kinda proud of, was that when we put our house on the market it would sell in the first month and for the amount we were asking. I really felt as though I was exercising my faith and in this market it would be pretty miraculous. Suffice it to say I’m back at square one. Just like my friend I was a little discouraged I wasn’t able to establish the “right” answer or in this context the “right” prayer request.

My desires and dreams change quite often they grow, age, and evolve and I’m not sure if it’s the same for everyone else but I got rid of those comparisons to others a long time ago. Once the fear subsided I felt brave and proud for being able to acknowledge the authority of such things being spoken. Don’t get me wrong I’m still a little shaky but right now I’m living in this moment: search my heart and search my soul.

the ABC's of a fresh start

So lately I’ve been really examining my life. I’ve always been one of those overly organized (can there be such a thing), planning everything up to the exact moment taking into account every possible event that may or may not occur. You know the well not this week because_______________. Oh and not next since_______________. And Fridays are never a good day to_____________. Who made up these guidelines anyway? Are these notions relevant to anyone or anything, really? It got me thinking about what I want and let’s face it “there’s no time like the present” didn’t become a saying without ringing true. I’ve started to compile a list of thoughts and practices I want to characterize my life starting now. Not tomorrow or Wednesday which honestly I feel would a “fresher” start. Who says resolutions are just for the New Year. These are decision and promises that I have devised to focus on what I want for myself; they are mostly my own little reminders and challenges but there are a few I sampled from others over the years. Please excuse the cheat on “X”…it’s a complicated letter.

• Accept that life is in constant motion; with or without my permission



• Believe in my abilities and put them into action



• Creativity and originality don’t always have to be the same thing



• Develop those concepts that seem so beyond my reach



• Emotions are meant to highlight life not define it



• Find beauty…in the day, in others, in myself



• Give, give give and when it starts to hurt give again



• Hopes should be collective and establish relationships



• Imagine as if I were still young and innocent



• Just because I can doesn’t mean I should



• Kindness causes us to learn, and to forget, many things



• Learning that less is more and more is too much



• Movement isn’t necessarily the same thing as progress



• New beginnings can start now



• Overcome struggles head on and eyes open



• Peace is a gift that can be found even in the strangest of obstacles



• Question my choices daily to determine my direction



• Re-dos mean there was an attempt and a longing to thrive



• Support is not only meant to be received but also given



• Talking doesn’t exactly mean something’s being said



• Utter wonder should become part of my daily ritual



• Vulnerability doesn’t have to be shameful



• Willingness is my greatest challenge but also my utmost desire



• eXamine my thoughts and words before they are revealed



• Yesterday isn’t worth dwelling on anymore



• Zeal without knowledge is fire without light

need a purpose?

Music is the absolute best. I’m all over the place with it and something that I think people from all walks are able to identify with. It’s so alarming when lyrics to a song seem so personal almost like they were plagiarized from my own life. Or when you hear something you’ve heard before but finds new meaning.

On that note, DC Talk is a personal fav. If you didn’t grow up with it you won’t appreciate the cool factor. Reflecting back it was nice that there was a band modern enough to get kids to listen to Christian music…let’s be honest back then there were few. It was also responsible from making us think we white kids could rap (Eminem who?).

After the many years I still get giddy when I hear them on the radio. Today I heard the Tobey Mac song “I Was Made To Love You”, certainly not the first time, but today it clicked. I love the message:

i was made to love you

i was made to find you

i was made just for you

made to adore you

i was made to love

and be loved by you

you were here before me

you were waiting on me

and you said you'd keep me

never would you leave me i was made to love

and be loved by you

Pure. Simple. Truth. All this running around and fretting who and I suppose to be and what should I be doing nonsense isn’t necessary. I was made to love Him and through loving Him I should love others and in addition another easily forgotten part of it is to let Him love me.

(just me)

Do you ever think, “Gawd, I’m a freak”? Seriously this isn’t about self loathing or anything but I have these moments daily and am continually comforted that I’ve managed to hide a fair share of my unusual tendencies this long. I’m serious; if people only knew half the things I say and do… I’m not sure if they’d be more amused or concerned.

Don’t expect me to share too many instances because this really is me appreciating the fact that I’ve flown under the radar and hope to continue to. For me it’s the outburst of song as if I were living in a musical or competing in American Idol. (Wha? I don’t even watch that show.) Yes. It happens…in the car, at home, at work, at the gym, well that is when I went to the gym. We’re talking loud, shameless, unnerving. It’s not entirely my fault. Somehow I’ve been given this internal soundtrack that flashes between Britney and Edith Piaf, in case you were wondering; uh-huh this does consist of other languages. Don’t feel too bad for me because I secretly kinda love it. It’s like I’m in my own little movie or better yet Truman Show with a tune that best suites my situation and/or emotion. Am I the only one?

Hopefully this isn’t too certifiable but sometimes I forget what I look like. Okay, that sounds stupid but I’m not sure how to reword it. Anywho, this is probably due to the fact I’m lost in some fantasy world I’ve been performing show tunes in, but sometimes I look at myself and think, “Oh, that’s me”. Almost posed as question. I find the projection of myself at times isn’t equivalents with my general appearance. Hmmm…I might be losing you. For instance, you get this great pair of heeled boots and next thing you know you’ve developed this superhero catwalk approach through the local grocery store. (I live for those sassy moments.) Then you get home catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and are reminded nope, no resemblance to Gisele still just me.

The conversations I have with myself or dogs. The late night make up experiments that must be showered off before work the next day. That fantasies of being someone a bit more interesting…

I’m comforted to know we all have freak- flags whether we let them fly or not. All these neurotic propensities and Rachel-isms are what make me this person that I often conceal but sometimes revel in.

a bunch of absolute nothing

Oy vey and Oy gevalt …in keeping with the little Yiddish I know, I pretty much schlep thru Monday and Tuesday this week. Totally bummed as I managed to catch a cold... I had made it thru 4.5 months of the season managing to ward off all germs and one trip to St. Louis did me in. Trying to be grateful as it’s only a “mild” cold but never the less debilitating. Maintaining the good juju that I’m already on the mend and fighting this thing like gangbusters.

I dunno if it’s because I’ve been feeling under the weather but I certainly haven’t felt like I’ve looked my best (major understatement), maybe more so than in a long while. I guess I’m posting this more for solidarity than anything but I have the overwhelming desire for a MAKEOVER. In an effort to take back my week, after not one but two days of trekking out in public in a disturbingly unattractive state, this morning I was determined to upgrade my look even if I had little to no energy. I’m a firm believe that if you feel good you will feel good…get me?

Being that a new wardrobe isn’t in the budget or even necessary I made up a “new outfit”, a combination of existing clothes and accessories that felt like new. I even decided to slab on some self tanner to warm up my look. Note to self: not something to be done when in a hurry. Potentially regretting the decision given some streaky bits around my wrist and ankles; oh well, nothing some lemon juice won’t erase. I even managed to run by the dreaded WalMart before work and grab some hair color. Okay this may never come to pass but I like the idea of having a little box of affordable excitement waiting under my sink whenever I get the itch. Then again I might be hasty tonight and lament it in the morning. Granted, it’s a lot easier to repair than the fleeting desire for home-made bangs.

Just a few thank you‘s that are proving to repair and brighten my mid- week:

Pandora for your almost telepathic mix of peppy, happy tunes, the steal of a deal $1 gallon of tea that simply warmed and poured in my favorite coffee cup to get a Starbucks-esque comfort, the family size bag of peanut M and M’s for on sale, my trusty collection of headbands to save me from actually doing anything to my hair, not sure who deserves the recognition but in possible collective effort my phone as been eerily yet comfortably silent today, and maybe just a bit preemptive but the option to have a pizza night when all else fails.

Fall so hard; Fade so fast

What in the world, seriously? I don’t know when and I don’t know how… never mind that’s a complete lie because I do know when and I do know how. Sometimes I feel so “grown-up” and changed, proud of the person I’ve been cultivated to become and then I have these major setbacks that threaten to destroy all my progress. Knowing full well right from wrong and recklessly choosing the latter is a disgustingly, selfish act. I thought I was past this?

My fate and His plans kept me from stumbling too far off course but I knew better, I KNOW BETTER. I am my toughest critic, my harshest competitor so these moments of relapse terrify me. My fear is due to the fact that sometimes my failures leads to utter abandonment…The crudest example I can think of is when you’re on a diet and you are overcome by desire and eat the chocolate cake. The one piece turns into practically the entire cake…then who cares. You’re off the wagon so you give up all together. I don’t want this to happen. I can no longer let discouragement condemn my future.

I can hardly bear this feeling and it’ll be awhile before it’s all washed away. Precious moments have been stolen from me and I am the only culprit…I take responsibility. I’m utterly heartbroken to go back and start over again but at the same time humbly perplexed that I have the gift of doing so.

cornbread mama

I’ve never done well with death. Well, who really does? The fact is that I’m not entirely familiar with it. I’m one of the lucky one that still have my grandparents, in fact my great-grandmother only passed a few years ago. I’m so fortunate but it has left me ill-equipped. Yesterday I found out an old friend died and have naturally been unsettled ever since.

I used to mentor her. As a youth leader we were encouraged to counsel the teenagers and have regular devotionals. Not being much older or even wiser made it seem amusing but the more involved I got I realized how much I’d experienced myself and maybe, just maybe, I could be an encouragement or even a poster child of what mistakes to avoid. I had a large group, a loveable bunch of misfits, predominantly emotionally scarred girls. Let’s face it most of girls weren’t able to leave our teenage years unscathed. It was a tough time; these beautiful, creative, intelligent, funny, witty girls were stuck in painful adolescence and I was helpless. Really, I was there to be a cushion of sorts, these tragic things were going to happen and it was inevitable that they’d be hurt but hopefully if they needed someone, I could be that someone.

It’s amazing how sheltered I was while they were exposed to eating disorders, self mutilations, sexual violence, etc…life was being put into perspective. Oh the stories I could tell you…I’m certain I have an entertaining as well as heartbreaking story about each one of “my girls”. Then there was Panda, such a character. She had a knack for always making me laugh. I never really understood why she wanted to be part of the “group”, she seemed so adjusted. Despite any setback she exuded confidence and was ALWAYS pleasant to be around (I wish the same could be said for myself) never the less we bonded.

When I found out she’d passed I was overcome with grief. In all truth she’s one of those people that I’d search for online but couldn’t find a mutual friend and her name was so common it’d need to sift thru 800 others. I fell a lot of regret…I knew there was no possibility of sleep but I laid in bed thinking about her. After a few hours I gave up and decided to look at old photographs. I found what I was looking for, pictures of her. I cried after the first few then I found one from my wedding, the last time I saw her. Then I burst out laughing, in true Panda style she was sitting indoors at a reception table with her shades on. That’s my girl, trying to be street and she knew I’d appreciate it. From then on it was mostly laughter with a few tears mixed in. I’m so lucky that my memories of her are filled with joy and we shared moments that I’m reminded of after all these years. For that I am grateful.

I wish that I’d had an opportunity to see her again before her death. I’d probably get a big Panda Bear hug with no I Love You’s needed and in my loudest fake ghetto voice shout “CORNBREAD” our favorite word.

taboo...just a bit

Okay, side note before I start…I just thought to myself “Whoa, Rach…Two for two? Back to back blogs? Better slow down before you get burnt out.” Then without hesitation the song Mustang Sally popped into my head…even more surprising is I know the words!

Let me let you in on a little secret, not something I’m prone to doing, I know. I think, I might, possibly, maybe, perhaps, someday want to be a mommy. And wow, seriously, I’m kinda freakin’ out now that that is out. This isn’t something I’ve ever seriously desired…I don’t know, I practically raised my brother and sister and my mom wasn’t the motherly type anyway so I guess my view has always been somewhat skewed.

This subject is something I desperately try to avoid in conversation even with my closest of close friends because it makes me so vulnerable and the answers aren’t simple. I despise, no not despise but I feel so exposed when every topic leads to the dreaded “you must be pregnant” that seems to follow every: I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m late… I am fully aware no one means harm in these statements but it’s hard enough without the constant quips. It’s not exactly like we’re trying so there isn’t any reason to be discouraged but as some of you know I suffered a miscarriage and for all the falsehoods I’ve told about my “condition” I believe I’m finally on the mend. So many people have suffered multiple losses and continue to forge on but I am weak, weaker than I’d like to admit. I don’t want to ever experience that level of physical and emotional pain again but it’s a risk that’s necessary. For all you followers, if there are anyway, no need to get wound up yet because this concept is still fresh and it’ll be some time before anything evolves.

The other night I was babysitting for a close friend and it was time to put Owen to bed. Owen is ten months old and was born a month after my due date I guess that’s why I feel a certain bond with him, a what-life-would-be-like connection which always makes me emotional but I’ve never confessed until now. Those moments with him, right before he went to sleep, were magical, merely feeding him his bottle and feeling the weight of him as he relaxed and feel asleep. I pretty much broke down, but in a good way, the best way. The night with the kids as a whole was chaotic but essentially purposeful and I took pleasure in the frenzy.

Now, I’m not ready to move on down to mommy-town but it is a future destination and that in itself is worth a celebration. Well there’s Somebody not entirely surprised by this and reminds me…Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you your heart's desires…Psalm 37:4

Motto. Mantra. Whateva.

I’ve been working on re-setting my habits, with a new concept of “Just Because I Can, Doesn’t Mean I Should” and I repeat it daily. I don’t need to join and anonymous groups or seek professional help but I am a spender. I’ve never been one to splurge, honestly I like the challenge of finding a deal, however I can be reckless.

The other day I was in the library, (you can rent movies for FREE there by the way) and I saw people in the internet room and I was overcome with sadness. Now, I don’t know their exact situation but I assume they were there looking for employment. Most are at least, and I was one of them a little over a year ago. For whatever reason, I felt overwhelmed by my own blessings and convicted at the same time.

When I was younger we didn’t have a lot. My mom was a single parent and work nights. We didn’t have much and at the time we didn’t know any better. Now that I’m older and have my own household I am able to recognize just how little we had. My siblings and I all started work at an early age and worked several more hours than our classmates, it never bothered us, but it allowed us to help support the family and “treat” ourselves. I think the idea was money translated into some sort of success or happiness, not an entirely foreign concept I know. Hopefully this isn’t distasteful but my husband and I have always had money, we’ve been able to travel and purchase things that we want without a lot of effort. We have good jobs and work hard for our earnings but here is the proposal: Just because we have this money should we be spending it? Our bills our paid, essentially no dept, our needs are met but what about the other stuff; the extras?

I spend maybe $50.00 a month of what-nots…coffee, nail polish, movies etc… not really anything I need. How is it I have “extra” money that I can spend without even a second thought? There are so many others desperately trying to just get by, it doesn’t feel right.
I’ve even adjusted my grocery shopping habits. I’m so fortunate that we not only have food but good, healthy, organic food that we enjoy eating. I’ve made it a point to use up the stagnate items in the fridge and pantry in order to create new meals and curb unnecessary spending. It’s actually been a rewarding process and you get that sense of accomplishment.

I realize I’m about 4 years late on the recession but being in a tourist locale has kept us in a bubble and the shockwaves have finally hit our area. There are so many people that have come here with their posh lifestyles that have help keep our little mountain town afloat but now we are catching up with the rest of the economy. This past month, mid-season mind you, the local government had several layoffs, Bed Bath and Beyond closed, Blockbuster closed, Borders closed, and several other stores including Old Navy (I could have cried over this one). All those people need jobs and in an area like this they are limited and commuting isn’t feasible.

Not exactly my most articulate post but this is what’s on my mind and has been very sobering. Maybe now that it’s in print I’ll have more accountability to achieve the goals I’ve set and adjust my routine.

today IS the exception

minimal makeup
blush and gloss
turquoise nail polish
olive green tank
grey boyfriend tee
cream swing sweater
skinny blue jeans
grey leather boots
silver chain necklace
and a messy (possibly the messiest) bun

By some accounts I don’t even really match but today when I looked in the mirror I felt pretty and quite simply satisfied. There are few days this happens so I relish the peace of mind and acceptance of myself. Why was today different? What has changed? My clothes weren’t new; I hadn’t just had my hair done, and pretty sure I was a pound or two heavier after that Girl Scout cookie binge last night…If only I could discover the magic formula I might be able to feel this way everyday

Being a girl is tough…or I guess I mean being a woman is tough. Even the times when I chastise myself there’s a part of me calling out the ridiculousness of it. I mean I am a fairly “normal” person. No deformities, not the heaviest, not the skinniest, generally considered moderately attractive…So why is it I torture myself with false ideas of beauty. Yes, I said FALSE, I don’t like the phrase “unrealistic view of beauty” because it’s all relative, at least from my point of view.

There’s no real closure for this, just a conundrum I think many others can identify with. Maybe I’ll get lucky and these good vibes will continue on thru the weekend.

it's not about me

So I have written a total of three blogs today, wait this is my fourth and first posted. It’s weird when you’re open and perceptive how you can experience so much more direction. Not to say they weren’t adequate blogs, just not for now. After completing the first I kept repeating verses to myself. Turns out it was Psalms 139:1-10. (Why am I continually amazed by the relevance of scripture?) Well I Googled it for the complete passage and it. was. powerful.

For me its perspective/significance had changed, less a word on peace and comfort but now more an admonishment for my "attempt" at secrecy. Who am I to think I can hide my thoughts from Him? My silence isn’t concealing anything. I am seen. I am heard. I am desired. There is no exceptions, no circumstance that will change this. Let me just say it was humbling. Yet another blog for another time…

But for some reason my thoughts were incomplete. I kept the Googled results on my desktop and kept going back and reading and re-reading. After a while, in a moment of idleness, I grabbed my phone to peruse the daily Facebook posts and come across an alarming post from a very old friend. Personally, I don’t know how these people share such things publicly, typically my first reaction but this left me breathless and broke my heart. It was such a desperately sad post about feelings of worthlessness. Then I was brought back to Psalms 139. I was hesitant…who am I to pass a word but it felt right, all doubt and pride aside I responded.

People know I’m a horrible correspondent and I’ve never argued the fact but I wish I made more of an effort to share my heart with people. When I see Facebook posts and blogs most of the time I’m not dwelling on the content but the memories and feelings I have towards the individuals sharing. If people only knew the love and thoughts I have towards them… Not just close friends but acquaintances that seem to be hurting so much and experiencing daily struggles.
People going thru divorce, unemployment, infertility, acceptance, failure etc… I perceive of ALL these things but find myself thinking I should’ve…and that’s simply unacceptable.

My challenge and let’s face it an attainable goal is to reach out to my Facebook friends, whether they want to hear from me or not; and mostly whether I’m comfortable it with or not. It’s really time to set aside my qualms with privacy and these social sites and used them to a positive advantage.

Wish me luck!

New post: definitely; New blog: not so much

I'm not apologizing for going "post-less" so let's be forgiving and just go with it, no questions asked. Confession, I can't get out of my head. I've been in there for weeks maybe even months at this point. Thinking, contemplating, wishing, dreaming, doubting etc... It's time to get out. I can't make this a habit because I'll never leave and really it's no way to live.

In all honesty, I want so much, maybe more than I should be allowed. It's not like a Christmas list, these desires are beyond anything I could have ever imagined for myself. It scares me that I have these "needs" these untapped feelings that conflict with my reality.

Even more contradictory is the fact that they are entirely unwarranted. I don't sit and ponder new demands for my life but am daily rushed with images of absolute wonder...I've never dwelled on such high expectations.

I know, I know...my knack for saying so much without really saying anthing is astounding and it's a slow start but a fresh start none the less.