War Room in the real world

I finally watched War Room. What a beautiful, captivating testament of Faith! If you know me, you know that movies like this feed my soul. I thrive on healing and restoration. I think what I am meditating on most is what I read between the lines. I came away with three questions (so far):

•Do we notice when those around us are in spiritual distress?

When Miss Clara first hears Elizabeth express her spiritual life as "lukewarm," Clara immediately recognized that God was providing an opportunity for her. 

•Do we invite our brothers and sisters in Christ to fight, with our families, in prayer?

Miss Clara prayed, hoping she hadn't "pushed too hard" with Elizabeth. But the truth is, Elizabeth had to allow God room to work in her heart. Those around us are human, but they have hearts that desire closeness with God as well. We can only choose to be open, to be vulnerable and to trust that God is using the "Miss Claras" in our lives.

•Are we confident enough to lead with faith?

Are you willing to be a Miss Clara for someone else? Do you accept that the only real answer you need in order to lead is "Jesus?" It doesn't take decades of study...  You don't have to be perfect, you just have to accept God's grace.

I'm including my favorite scene from the movie. Whatever we do, we owe it to ourselves to be hot or cold, not in between. We will miss out if we do not choose step out on faith! 

Charcoal Brownies and Grace

Based on the title alone, you're probably eager to hear what I have to say. If I am being truly transparent, I am eager to hear what else God has to say to me on this topic as well.

GRACE.

I live a rather minimalist life. As far as it depends on me, I try to scale back and really un complicate my life, home and schedule as much as I can. It's just more manageable that way. It keeps my introvert battery from reaching 'E'. It has been this way for as long as I can remember! As a child I begged my mom for alone time (since i didn't have my own room, this had to be sanctioned). It wasn't personal. It wasn't selfish... It was introversion. Our needs are quite personal when we are drained. Be it quiet, a hobby or just an empty room... We need space.

I learned a long time ago that I want to give my family good things. I want to be able to play my part. I want to love them in word AND in deed. So I make my quiet time a priority. I have learned that I cannot short cut that quality time...why? Ah yes. That's what it is. Alone time is my heart's way of receiving my love language... Self love is so vital. If I don't actively give myself LOVE... Then exactly what is it that I am giving them?

This brings to me to today's title:

Charcoal Brownies and Grace.

Yesterday I had a God moment. The day before, I ordered groceries online and arranged to pick them up before lunch the following day. I know our schedule, so I timed it perfectly. But I had forgotten my wallet at my in law's house, so I stopped there first. Upon arriving I learned that their plans were evolving, so free time had come up and they expressed willingness to watch the girls while I run over to the store. I paused thinking, Well, I ordered the groceries online... So it's really just THERE AND BACK, but 30 minutes alone sounds great! So I chugged my coffee and took off. Upon picking up the groceries, I began chatting  with the woman helping me load them. She was so sweet and kind. Obviously a mom (you can always hear it in their voices.) She could tell we had kids by what I purchased, but saw that I was alone. I joked, Here I planned my whole day around making things simple and smooth with my girls... And now I have this spontaneous time alone! Too bad I already said I would be right back! This woman, no more than 45, looked at me as if we were old friends and said, Don't go get them. Just don't. Take care of yourself. They are happy, healthy and safe. Don't go get them. I smiled and realized why I felt such a connection with her... She was being Jesus to me. So I called my mother in law, she was happy to keep them longer.

Fast forward. Jason and I communicated well. I made my needs known. We had a friend over that evening. I cooked our favorite meal, the house was in it's normal condition. Nothing extraordinary was happening. We finished our evening, our friend went home... Crap! I thought. I forgot to make brownies for Jason's work party. Offering to make brownies was really the sneakiest thing I could have done. You see, I make brownies way more often than I would like to admit. Let's just say we are wealthy with brownies. I could make them in my sleep--- Or so I thought. I put the brownie dough in the pan, preheated the oven and set a timer. Jason asked if I would cuddle with him for a bit, so we weighed our options and I chose to step away from the kitchen. As you can probably assume, I never heard the timer go off. Not because the sound doesn't carry to our room (a factor I had considered before stepping away). No, the reason I didn't hear it is because I fell asleep. I didn't foresee this happening because over the last 4 months I have been getting my alone time at night once everyone falls asleep. I was physically unable to sleep until I had that quiet time. This day was different. This day God gave me grace. He surprised me with an outting alone. He filled Gemma's extrovert batteries AND my introvert batteries at the same time. I fell asleep so naturally because I felt peaceful. 

I have been asking myself for 24 hrs now... WHY?? Why give me such a gift, why demonstrate such grace at the grocery store... If I was just going to go home and screw it up? 

A beautiful friend of mine asked me this morning "Are you surrendering to this season?" Meaning... Our kids are little for such a short time... Am I rushing? Am I expecting too much of myself? I laughed, not yet fully grasping the question: "I chose BROWNIES! Three ingredients and POOF. I chose these over making Gumbo, or chicken noodle... I am choosing easy, simple... I'm not overextending myself. Should I just quit? Should I not even do the little things for Jason?" I didn't have an answer. All I could figure is that this is unnatural. A mother cannot seriously do much less than what I have been doing. I watch kiddie shows. My 2 year old has an iPod for when I need a break. My house is minimal to reduce chores. We don't eat fancy. My 4 month old rarely wears clothes. Laundry sits in piles for days and it doesn't bother me. Where am i doing too much? What corner should I cut next? Should I hide from my kids more often? Pinterest projects are way off my radar these days. Target is my idea of a vacation. 

Tonight, laying in bed, it finally hit me. God offers grace. He gives peace. He gives second chances. He gives hope. So I had to ask myself... If there is nothing "frivolous" left to cut out, maybe it's not God who is trying to get my attention. Maybe it's Satan? YIKES. If you knew the names I have called myself today, you would be surprised it took me so long to realize this. The brownies baked for 3.5 hrs. They were black and half of our home was in smoke when I woke up. What woke me up? Not the smoke. Not the timer. Not even a smoke detector. Nope... It was Reia. GRACE. God gives grace. You see, Reia could have slept another 2 hrs. That would be her normal sleep at that time of night. But  coincidentally she just began 4 month old sleep regression. Are you realizing the same thing I just realized? He gives and takes away! God only gives good gifts. Had there been a house fire, we wouldn't have been warned by our smoke detectors. What a grace from God. Now we can replace the batteries. 

I cannot do less, all of the frivolous corners have been cut... But I CAN accept more grace. I really messed up. I am a tired mom who is just trying to imitate my Heavenly Father and give my family good things. I fell short this time, but one thing is for sure... I will treasure these two great lessons I learned about grace. By remembering these things, I will remember God's grace and dismiss Satan's accusations. You cannot give what you do not have: That applies to both grace AND the accusations. 

“What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!””

Luke 11:11-13 ESV

Simply Hard

There were a few days recently where I was just utterly drained. Depleted. Empty. You get the picture. It's not a place that I'm unfamiliar with... I am a parent of two kids, 2 years old and under. It happens even when we try to combat it. Why? Let's talk about that.

One of those days went like this: We were staying in a hotel. Jason wouldn't come back to us until we were ready to return home that evening. It wasn't a first. It's been done before. It's doable.

But we had been staying in a hotel. 

"Not a problem. I prepared for this:

Tablet, check. 

Snacks, check.

Diapers, check.

Head Phones, check.

Chargers, check.

Favorite Toys, check.

Emergency Clothing Changes, check.

Homeopathics, check.

Easy Out-of-hotel plans, check..."

You get the picture.

I have done this before. 

Motherhood is by no means something I believe can be mastered. The moment you think you've "got this" you wake up from an accidental nap to find your daughter's blankie in the toilet and the bathroom trash's contents across the floor... Not that that has ever happened *wink wink*.

So I was prepared to not be prepared... this wasn't the hunger games, I knew we would survive it.

So we took it easy. Before Jason left I packed up the big stuff in the hotel room, Jason carried those things to the car. We went to the lobby (without him), ate breakfast... I had Reia in my Tula baby carrier, Gemma sat in a large backed chair eating an apple while I ordered my coffee. 

I've got this! ---CRAP! I know better than to say that!

Not long after this I realized I needed to take our "party" to the car... Gemma was running from me every chance she got. Her apple had hit the floor a few times at this point. Reia was becoming upset and wanted to eat. Gemma, who has had seasonal allergies lately, begins coughing. And coughing. And coughing. No big deal. This is basic mom-gig stuff. I can secure Gemma in the car, lather oils on her and play her favorite song while I nurse. See? I had a plan. 

Apparently I should have conferenced with my kids about this plan first. By the time we reached the car, the wifi was poor, requiring data that we couldn't spare. I turned up the Christmas music on the radio and nursed Reia. Gemma, however, wasn't interested in oils. So I did what any mother would do... what was best for her! While nursing Reia I reached back with a roller ball of oil in my right hand and rolled it on whatever skin I could reach! No biggie. She is loud and upset, but once those oils kick in she'll calm down. But the oils didn't give her relief, nor did it calm her. This too has happened before. All of these things! 

You're beginning to get the idea, right? From the parking lot, to missing daddy, to navigating traffic with out-of-date GPS, to feeding a picky eater in a restaurant, etc... It's been done before. I already had these mom-merit-badges. So what was different? Was anything different? It's so obvious looking back. It was all of these little things TOGETHER. I was prepared for all of these things... but I wasn't prepared for them to be piggy backing each other. That had never happened before. I assumed some things would just go smoothly. 

Surely something will be low maintenance and I can relax while we're on this trip.

But the truth is and the reality of life is... sometimes it's completely up to my Maker to get me through! Nothing on earth can match His insurance policy.

FAITH.

These small, unfortunate struggles during our day kept piling on. The phrase "The straw that broke the camel's back" comes to mind. Sometimes it's just a mountain of straw on our backs! That day wasn't hard because anyone was lazy, difficult or particularly challenging... It wasn't hard because our plans were complicated or advanced. Sometimes it's just hard because there's no way around it! I received just enough self-care. Just enough to make it from sun up to sun down. You know what this reminds me of?

"I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions." Exodus 16:4

I won't pretend to know the upper-story here. I don't know if God had a specific lesson in mind, if the devil was attacking, or if I just should have done things differently. That's behind us... so the question is, what value do I take from this? 

I had just enough. When Jason returned that evening, the girls were happy to see him. (As was I!) But my resources were tapped. I was running on empty after a job well done. God sent his manna, it was just enough for my day. Was I paying attention? Was I satisfied? Were we sustained? 

And what about all that straw? The straw slowly blew away with time. Jason, one of God's enormous gifts to me, was the breeze that God used to take it away. Thank you, Lord for a kindhearted husband and father who lightened that load and gave me rest. 

Even when life is simply hard, He always gives just enough... 

Thankful For

I am writing this while refereeing a "time-in." Gemma has lost her mind, ugly crying with snot running off her face like lava... I think to myself. I love this. I love them. Hey, I'm not being facetious. These snot buckets and poo butts are a daily blessing to me. Because as Gemma melts down and bawls her eyes out right now, I am her calm. I get to hold my peace and help her find north when she is ready to relax again. So while she melts down, I thought it fitting to journal what I am thankful for:

1. Gemma. 

She is a fire cracker. She is spirit and fire. She is tenderness and affection. She adores her bible and her sister and cares for them deeply. She loves big. Fits big. Plays big. Lives big. Gemma is a whole lot of kid in a little body, and I am so excited to watch who she becomes every day. 

2. Reia.

She is a ball of fun. Reia has a magnetic smile that could power half of Europe. She is hope and sweetness. I like to say she was created to cuddle. Her precious head full of hair is just further proof that God intended for her to be born at 41-weeks-of-perfection. 

3. Jason. 

I don't know how we ever get anything done before noon. We are both night time people, but you rise every week-day and work hard for us. You would work hard even if I didn't stay home with our girls -even if you were single. Why? Because you are a hard worker. You do what you're passionate about and it shows. I am thankful that you work hard for yourself AND for us.

4. Our families

We come from very different cultures, but one major thing we have in common: love. Our families know how to love big. No holding back. Unconditional. Here-let-me-help-you-with-that love! I am so thankful for this.

5. My faith

I am thankful for my faith. My faith in my Creator. It has been what helps me stay centered my entire life. But I am also thankful for my faith in humanity. In people. I am thankful that I don't draw lines in the sand. I am thankful that I respect differences. I am thankful that I assume there are misunderstandings. I am thankful that my faith in God helps me to extend genuine grace even when there WASN'T a misunderstanding (when people really have been sour.) Because God has done the same for me. I am thankful that I believe in YOU enough to tell my story, my truth, without fear. I am thankful that I have faith in WHO I was created to be and that I recognize that there is no ceiling on who I can become, and I believe the same is true for you. 

What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

Home

I am in an absolutely grateful haze this week. It's my favorite holiday and I am spending this week with a few of my biggest blessings all under one roof.

It's taken me 26 years, 10 major relocations, 2 new languages, 3 years of marriage, two babies and two identity crisis'... I'm here to tell you what I've learned. 

I have always been confused as to HOW I should identify what "home" is. I have a vivid memory of going into my mom's room when I was 4-5 years old and telling her I felt home-sick. I had only moved once before this occasion and I was 18 months old then, so I think it's fair to say this feeling has lingered for a LONG time. 

So what does HOME mean to me?

As a child I only knew "home" as a house. It's where we went when we left the grocery store. It's where we went when church was over. 

HOME. 

But then I began hearing people refer to "home" as somewhere other than where you live. Home was where they used to live. I didn't have one of those, that I could remember anyway. I didn't remember Kokomo, Indiana. For me it was just a name on my birth certificate. 

It sounded romantic in that heart-aching-long-distance-relationship kind of way. How boring I was! No life experience! Woe, is me! No used-to-be-home trophy on my mantel. I couldn't begin to relate to these people and that frustrated me. I felt ignorant.

I was 7 years old when my dad first told me about the possibility of moving away from the home I knew and loved. To be honest, I thought it sounded cool! "Life experience! YES!" THIS will teach me more about what "home" is. (I shake my head just writing this. How very naive I was.)

We moved to Washington state, my accent was thick and my freckles were dark. "I'm from Louisiana!" I would tell people, with enthusiasm. That is, until people began mocking my twang. UGH... People can be so cruel sometimes. Let me elaborate on this for a moment... I had a great sense of humor. I thought southern draws were hick and silly and fun! The mocking I am referring to was degrading and shameful. So my used-to-be-home didn't feel safe to claim. All of the emotional souvenirs I brought with me, like my favorite foods, my accent, my stories... No one wanted to see my mantel. My "trophies" from a life before. 

That's when I realized that I should cling to consistency. Predictable. Common and normal are acceptable. My identity was in crisis and I was only 8 years old.

Years came and went. I played it safe. Too safe. I was probably too serious. I shed my southern accent as soon as I could and always tried to fit-in just enough that I didn't stand out. I moved many more times: from Washington, back to Louisiana, to Montana, to Texas, to Mexico, Indiana, Texas again and finally Oklahoma.

Fast forward.

I was an AIMer in Mexico City, ready to leave the field. My team mates and classmates were returning home. I tried to play it off like I was excited to have the world as my oyster, or some other nonsense. But truthfully I was stressed. My parents were living abroad at the time. I didn't seem to have the 'landing pad' that everyone else was talking about. I had a few invitations... My glamorous life of adventure had it's perks! Friends in 5 states opened their arms and invited me to call them home in lieu of my parents living far off. "How flattering", I thought. But I didn't only need a place to lay my head, I was exhausted. Which option would most closely resemble "home?"

Cue next identity crisis. 

What is my culture? What has shaped me? What do I believe? Do my beliefs align with my parents'? Do I want to date a little? Do I want to go to college? How will I pay for college? Should I do more with Spanish? Should I return and pick up Sign Language again? How will I afford a car? How do I get insurance? THEY JUST KEPT COMING. 

With counsel, I have done some research into the psychological reason for my identity crisis. I had no idea what my core beliefs were. Is Ford better than Chevy? Are the mountains better than the beach? Am I Republican or Democrat? Am I Church of Christ, or....? Or what? What's out there!? I wasn't abandoning what I believed as a child, I just didn't know what they meant to me as an adult.

I felt the full weight of my naivity. Where is North? Where is home? What fits? 

Fast forward to 2015. I'm married, about to have my second child and have been living in our first house for 2 years and it didn't feel like "home" yet. For years I had been told to stop trying to figure it out. Just follow my feet. "You know what home is, Tab." Honestly, I didn't. I say that in true sincerity. I was grasping at straws, asking for help with a problem that, with 20+ year of experience, began to seem imaginary.

Now for the crux of this whole article. Neither do many of you! Think about it. As best you can figure, home is where your holidays are, bed is, family is, culture is, language is, etc... We all depend on something outside of ourselves to identify home, but not all of us struggle to feel confident in what home IS. 

I'm writing this article from the back porch of my parents house in Lumberton, Texas. I have never lived in this house, let alone this city, before. It's not home in that sense. I don't have life-long relationships in this city, outside of my parents. But if we weren't family, I probably wouldn't hear from them often with how much we all have moved around. Distance is a cruel and uncooperative factor in relationships. That's how I figured it out. I solved the mystery. If home TRULY can be had by everyone, surely it's not as tangible as I've imagined this whole time. Home cannot be taken away from you. Home cannot be burned down. Home cannot be sold or bought. Home cannot be inherited. Home cannot die. Home cannot kick you out. Home cannot insult you. Home cannot move on without you. 

Home is an experience. Home is where you dance silly. Home is where the comfort food is. Home is where you laugh until you pee yourself. Home is where you stay up late playing spoons. Home is where you feel safe. Home is where you are enough. 

I have it. I recognize it now. I have claimed it. And I'm taking it with me. I am going to share it with more of the people I love and fuel it. I am so excited about this revelation! 

>I< am home! 

Not Good Enough

Over the last few months I've been learning the ropes of raising two highly affectionate little girls. My oldest's name is Gemma. She was born on the anniversary of our wedding ceremony and in all of her extroverted goodness, has been "stealing the show" ever since. My youngest, Reia, is just now 3 months old. As a former foster family we aren't strangers to having a fourth body in our home... but those other babies weren't breast fed or co-sleeping, so this little one has had a few tricks up her sleeve that are new to us.

My girls are the most enormous gift I can imagine. I frequently just stand in awe and admiration of God's skill and generosity. I also frequently feel that I've screwed up. I miss the mark. I under appreciate them or behave in a way that will undoubtedly scar their memories of me...

I am not good enough. 

When noon rolls around... "Nap time!" but two diapers need changed (because oh yeah, I haven't managed to potty train my toddler yet) and one needs nursed, the other needs her chicken nuggets reheated... I situate the toddler with edible chicken, grab a cup of water and make my way to the couch to finally nurse the fussing 3 mo and I hear a sippy-cup hit the floor. I sit down on the couch and begin nursing anyway, after all, "natural consequences teach kids about real life..." But while I manage to open my youngest's mouth wide enough to get a proper latch, I am tense and shout "Hang on!" in frustration as my toddler repeatedly shouts my name and maneuvers herself into a position so painful that she is now in tears and cannot free herself. Now tears well up in my eyes, with my baby still nursing away... I spiral: "The natural consequences of NOT giving her back the sippy-cup that she threw will now create this nuclear energy spike that, if not addressed soon, will result in a 2 hr tantrum, followed by a late nap, leading to a late bed time. And we all know that kids who don't get enough sleep go on to have lower test scores and never move away from home..." (oh how funny these panic moments seem in hindsight.)

I am not GOOD enough. I am introverted. My oldest is extroverted. I have to guard my energy like food in a famine when she is awake. She will absorb every single last ounce of my good. She fills her bucket by socializing. The yin to my yang. If I don't guard my energies, I have nothing left.

WHEN I mess up, am I still enough? 

You see, I, like other human beings, come with flaws. I need daily alone time, an amount of time where I am disconnected from people. This need becomes messy when you throw children into the equation. Some days it just doesn't happen... someone misses their nap time, or someone gets sick... what do I give my kids when I haven't had an opportunity to fill ME up? What bucket do I draw from? And what do I have to offer myself?

• Sometimes I go with my serious bucket... "Maybe If i just become stoic I won't snap at them!?" 
• Sometimes I go with the panic bucket, "Are you kidding me? I'm allowed to be responsible for children while in this condition!? Everyone gets room time!" 
• But sometimes I go to the grace bucket... "Gemma, I know you really hoped to have XYZ, it's pretty disappointing to go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."

I am enough.

I'll never always be GOOD enough. But I am ENOUGH. Do you see the difference? I accept that what I have to offer may not always be "good" or "perfect" but because of Grace, it's always enough. And on the days when I have run out of "good" to give myself, I reach for the grace bucket... I deserve heaps of grace. He is enough. Because of Him, there is enough to go around; thank God my success doesn't depend on me. Daily he says to me "Tab, I know you really hoped to be more today, it's pretty disappointing when we go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."

Pregnancy and Childbirth through the Eyes of a Three Year Old

There are many things I have been passionate about in my life. From an early age, I knew that feeling of deep, unadulterated, unconditional excitement... and I knew it well. When I was 3 years old I became a big sister. During my mom's pregnancy, I made some very educated deductions. I'm happy to say that these deductions are NOT the extent of my child birth education!!! These things are so fun to think back on now as a birth Doula, child birth educator and as a mother.

So, here they are...


Pregnancy and Childbirth through the Eyes of a Three Year Old

1.) "Pregnancy makes women cut off all of their hair."
This was true in my eyes. My mom was due with a July baby and we lived in southern Louisiana... throw in a few hormones and four very energetic home schooled children and you begin to understand what ACTUALLY led to this style choice. But nonetheless, my little world believed this to be fact.
Side-note: Believe it or not, many women report having a skin crawling feeling while pregnant and postpartum. I experienced this during my whole first pregnancy and now again postpartum with my second. It was bad enough during my first pregnancy that I actually DID get a pixie cut!

2.) "Pregnant women have crazy beautiful finger nails and they like to paint them bright colors."
I don't even know how often my mom painted her finger nails, I just have a few vivid memories of admiring her long, thick, bright red finger nails (they complimented her pixie cut very nicely) and thinking "that'll be me someday!" I still find this fascinating, how freaky beautiful a woman's fingernails can become during pregnancy. Thank you, Prenatals!

3.) "Boy-girl-boy-girl-etc..."
When my mom was expecting her 6th baby, I learned about "the pattern". Girl-boy-girl-boy-girl... so our family joked that this last baby would be a boy! Except, 3 year old, passionate, and take-you-literally Tab took this as fact. I told all of my friends, I say it in all of our home videos... "My mommy is having a baby boy!" Guess what?? I have a baby sister.
Among the many other wives tales out there... which are fun games to play and some of them seem to be fairly accurate... they are still 50% accurate, guys. Hang in there! And praise the Lord for ultrasounds when we just can't wait any longer to know if it's a he or a she!

4.) "Pregnant women don't change at all."
I believe it was probably a month before my sister arrived, I still hadn't noticed that my mom's stomach had grown. It happens so subtly I suppose. I followed her into the garage on one of her nesting energy surges and asked her to put on her wedding dress that we found. My mom has always been rather fit in my eyes, but at 8 months pregnant there was no chance in heck that she would fit into her customized wedding gown that she weighed 105lbs in when she wore it last. My mom just laughed... I didn't get it. Pregnancy is full of physical changes!

5.) "Moms just go to the hospital and come home with babies!"
The day my sister was born, I was upset about two things... "That's not a brother..." and "Why can't I take home my baby!?" I know, I've always been this complicated... Walking into mom's recovery room I distinctly remember the lights on the walls, thinking "this is a weird hotel" and wanting mom and the baby to come home with us. Once our visit was over, we loaded up our van full of children and went home... but not before I screamed "I WANT MY BABY!!!" alllllll the way down the hallway of the hospital. I was still crying about it as we got home and went to bed.
Truth is, it was drama like that that probably reassured my mom that she could use that over-night stay in the hospital! Moms have such a big roll in the family! You think making babies IN their bodies is pretty epic? You think caring for a house, kid(s), pets, etc... is a big deal? Many moms do this more than one time! That means recovering from a major experience like birth, WHILE momming. This is so incredibly inspiring to me! AND I AM ONE! So so incredible to me.

I get so nostalgic writing out these thoughts by three year old Tab... and now that I have two children of my own, I am so intrigued to see what their memories will hold someday. As a birth professional, I can only imagine what they will absorb and the stories they will tell someday... but you know what? I can't wait to hear it!

Winds of Change

Who else has days where every little thing makes you feel poetic? With the fall weather settling in and the winds of change are literally blowing 40mph down the street right now, It just feels like such a cozy day! Turning off lights and TVs, I can smell my pot of coffee, I'm contemplating making potato soup, our cloth diaper laundry is drying, both of my kids are sleeping... this moment feels frozen and all I can hear is the wind busily blowing through the trees outside and my fingers as they hit the keys on the keyboard.

Life is beautiful, isn't it?

I married the love of my life just over 3 years ago. It's funny, I love this time of year. It was this time of year that he and I really began to connect and fall in love. So much life has come and gone since then. When we were early in our relationship I attended an emotional growth program called Pathways, during the 4 months that I was in this program I also underwent an abdominal surgery to treat my Endometriosis. Just a couple of weeks after my surgery, Jason proposed to me while I had strep throat. Our fairy tale together seems to be watermarked by real life in such a poetic way. We have both lost grand parents, changed jobs, become home owners... We have seen dark days individually and together... at times it seems that the only thing that comes easily for us is laughter... and I thank God often for that amazing staple in our life together. We're opposites in many ways, but those differences keep us honest and genuine.

On August 4th, 2013, I gave birth to a fire cracker. Gemma. She is so full of life. With my history of Endo, I told Jason early in our relationship that I didn't know what my fertility would look like. I robbed myself of quite a bit of day-dreaming-joy by assuming the worst. Endometriosis caused a lot of pain and stress for us and Jason was held captive by it as well. It was paralyzing. All was on hold when my pain episodes would begin. The surgery I mentioned earlier was an incredible relief for me physically, and for us together in our relationship. Now, two babies and 3 years of marriage later, I can see God has been such an incredible craftsman in my life.

I don't consider myself blessed BECAUSE of what he has done or what he has given me... no, I was blessed long before all of that. I am blessed because I have never been alone. The winds of change has blown rather steadily through my life. Missing my siblings is the closest I can relate to feeling "home sick"... because I have moved so many times that no one place truly stands out in my mind. I miss my family all the time. I miss being face to face, I miss their hugs, I miss watching movies together, I miss driving around with my sisters, I miss laughing so hard I pee myself. I miss playing spoons and speed, I miss sleeping in the same bedroom on Christmas Eve. I miss our pointless debates and arguments...YES. I miss those things. But I have never once missed God. I get cold chills as I type this out. He has never changed. He has never been far off. He has never called me names. He has never been too far away when I needed comfort. He has never missed a holiday. He never changes. He doesn't move our of state. He's with me. My fairy tale relationship with God is also watermarked with real life. I have been angry, I have be flaky, I have been childish. I have aimlessly sought to find self worth outside of His arms...but none of those things have ever threatened to take Him away from me. HE. IS. STEADFAST.

I frequently feel lost. Like everyone else has a script and I don't know my lines... but He helps me navigate life. Learning to appreciate life's watermarks can be hard sometimes, and the winds of change can be wild and scary... but i'm captivated by it.

Would you be swept away?

Off your feet?

No road map?

Gone with the breeze?

Would you be swept away?

Into a fairy tale?

Where gravity is gone

Where you cannot fail?

Would you risk it all?

Would you let this go?

Can you silence your fears?

Can you forget what you know?

Would you stake your life

Your comfort

Your joy

On the here and now?

Are you happy enough to keep what you've found?

Or are you like me?

You're somewhere in between...

Happy, but sad.

Observing the breeze...

Would you be swept away and be free?

Mexico

My spirit has felt off for a few days now with a heaviness. I feel like I am holding the mic and have been staring at my feet unsure of why I asked for this opportunity. I have talked to Jason a lot lately about my upbringing, moving around a lot and having my heart all over America… I told him it’s been something that my subconscious just doesn’t want to put down, but I couldn’t fathom why. I sometimes feel like a secret agent because I know three languages, one of which is Spanish. I have overheard WAY too many awkward things because people chose to speak freely, I mean… “who would understand!?” (I have blushed way too many times to count, just FYI… it happens a LOT.)

Earlier this week Mexico had a record breaking storm coming for it… (Picture the devastation of an EF5 tornado across a large portion of Mexico…) my head and heart were in agreement that this was exceptionally scary. I lived there for a year and a half before coming to Tulsa. I made many trips to central and southern Mexico as a child and I have MANY heart-family members down there (We named Gemma after a child I taught in bible class and I have nieces and nephews I haven’t been able to hug in over 4 years). I know you guys get what I’m saying, but my heart wants to paint a clear picture… that storm was going for my heart. In a turn of events that no one can easily explain, the storm quickly downgraded to a tropical storm once it made landfall. The “miraculous” nature of this was not predicted. By nature, hurricanes are strongest in warmer waters… which the coast of Mexico is full of. If that Cat 5 storm had made landfall at full strength, I am not exaggerating to say that 100s of thousands of impoverished people would have been in mortal danger.

So we all know that my heart paints pictures and wants to give you all the full effect… but among my great joy and relief for my loved ones to be safe, I am reminded again of how far my roots reach. I didn’t grow up “normal”… which I was naively bitter about while growing up. We spent holiday and vacation money on long drives to Mexico to serve and love on people I couldn’t understand or communicate with. A PRIVILEGE that I didn’t understand, nor did I truly see, until I lived in Mexico as an adult. At this point when I hear people talk about going to Mexico, I always envision rural or inner city… but frequently I’m met with descriptions of places like Acapulco or Cozumel.

I know I am not alone in this, which makes this sentiment even richer. I have many relationships with others who have experienced the heart of Mexico. But I want that family to grow. I may have grown up as a nomad moving and traveling quite a bit (a freaking cool experience in hindsight)… but my heart is beginning to realize what I missed. I feel like I’m dancing a new dance and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I saw this storm approaching and saw my newsfeed fill up with prayers and support for the country I love and my eyes filled with tears. Thank you for loving on my heart family. I sometimes don’t feel worthy to claim that beautiful country as a second home, but that’s my truth- my story. I have spent too much time trying to pretend like this longing has faded. So, this is for you, mis queridos… this is a portion of a poem I wrote in 2010.

“Desde que les conocí, han sido un parte de mi.
Si,les quiero, mis corazónes, y tengo un millón razones.
Y cada amanecer me acuerdo que no estan aqui a mi lado.
en mis sueños siempre ustedes serán”

Roots

This fall it has been four years since Jason and I first began to grow together as friends. As our paths converged, I felt like a train about to crash. I was consumed with how out of control my life felt at that time. I was considerably independent already. I had lived away from home since I was 17. God had always placed "framily" in my path right when I needed them, so I knew this time would be no different... but my soul was so tumultuous.

This time I was moving to live near family, my brother. He helped me find the internship that brought me to the Tulsa area, but we were working at different churches all summer, making it a little tricky to see each other at times. Still, it was so nice to have him near. Before that summer I rarely slowed down to make myself (my family) a priority. Making time for family is not only for my family members, but for myself. It's so vital for the human heart to create roots... to maintain them and feel connected somewhere. A healthy plant is a plant with deepening roots. Those are the plants that bear fruit, folks.

I found myself being nomadic. Nomadic is not inherently unhealthy. Nomads often make exceptionally deep connections, it's just not common to make "traditional" connections. Tab's version of being a nomad was like being a plant that was frequently transplanted, but never to a larger pot. That's not to say that "deeper" wasn't an option, I just didn't make time for deeper. Deeper was scary, but why?

In a deeper pot there is more room... in more room, there is more freedom, options, etc... but with deeper roots, it becomes harder and more complicated to uproot. When I day dreamed about the future, I just felt confined. New jobs, new relationships, new residence, new routine... a whole lot of roots! What if I didn't like what I planted myself into? What if a couple of years down the road I didn't like the pot I chose!? "The deeper I go the harder it will be to leave!" I told myself it was about the details... It would be too much work to acclimate to a new city, new job, new apartment... but truthfully, I was terrified of rooting my heart into a new place. Growing roots isn't scary. No, knowing you can never return to the way things were is what's truly scary. So I chose another small pot.

If I were being objective here, I would point out another aspect of what it means to choose a small pot. Some people grow in roughly the same place their entire lives... their primary relationships basically chosen for them by circumstance, not by choice. Their days are filled with tradition, family, routine and rhythm. Much like my nomadic comfort zone, both of these paths WORK and suit the lifestyle they accessorize. Both the house-plants and the nomadic-plants make attempts to experience the other's lifestyle. This isn't because one is better than the other, it's because both are beautiful OPTIONS.

So what does "healthy" look like?

Surely the house-plant deserves to explore when they desire it and the nomad-plant deserves to find a sanctuary when they need it. More to the original point, what's a nomadic girl to do when she transplants herself to Eastern Oklahoma, gets married and deepens her roots?!

Baby steps and balance.

She shops for a bigger pot, she gets her hands dirty exploring her new boundaries, then she breaks the smaller pot. Larger plants can still transplant when necessary... but when a plant has expanded and grown into it's new space, it cannot go back where it came from and still hold onto it's new growth. Onward and upward, friends!

From moving cities and states every other year, to now living in small town Glenpool, owning a 3 bed, 2 bath home! For the first time in my life my nomad-plant day dreams include things like weekly game nights and sporting events, white picket fences and drive in movies... it's scary and amazing all intertwined! This nomad is dabbling, getting a delicious taste of house-plant life, things that wouldn't make sense in my old lifestyle. I'm finding a sanctuary.

Which plant are you?

Is it time to buy a larger pot?

Is it time to make room for new?

Oceans

If you have read my other blogs, you know that I have been writing a series focusing on the song by Hillsong United, called Oceans. It didn't occur to me until today that "Oceans" is plural. I chuckled to myself as I made a host of new connections immediately following. When I hear that word with this realization, it takes on new meaning. An ocean, singular, is unique. It's a new adventure. It has new challenges. Even visiting the same ocean twice will feel different... because we are different. Maybe we have aged, we have overcome these waves before, so we may spend more time contemplating the sand or observing the horizon. So when I hear the word oceans, pluralized, I hear something huge. But I will come back to this shortly.

The last 6 weeks have been... wow. Since the last time I wrote to you all, I am just amazed at how much life has transpired. We welcomed a beautiful baby girl on August 14th, after 4 weeks of what would be considered "early labor" contractions and long nights. I spent a lot of time trying to pace myself, rest and soak up my life as I knew it. 

I was blessed to have my mom stay with us to help make the transition easier and entertain our sweet Gemma when I was 41 weeks along and READY to have a baby. You see, I have had a baby before... Been to that "ocean", got a great souvenir :-). However, I also came away a little wounded. Over the course of my pregnancy I made MANY conscious (and sometimes uncomfortable) choices with the goal of having a healthier and more positive birth experience this second pregnancy. I know that nothing I did could guarantee that I would have the birth that I wanted, which is why I focused on taking care of the "scars" from our first birth and investing in a healthy mom and baby (as far as it depended on me.) The rest I gave to God. I have visited this ocean before, but it was a different season... I had a new pair of eyes this time and a knowledge of how vitally a healthy birth AND positive experience would play into my long term health.

Reia weighed 9lbs even and was born in a record 2 hrs of true labor. She was born at home (insert Jim Gaffigan joke here) and I was blessed to be able to "catch" her myself. Everything I knew about this ocean was old news... This was a whole new experience. It was beautiful and healing.

This is where the true revelation about the word "Oceans" came about. Moments after Reia was born I attempted to nurse her for the first time, only to realize she had trouble latching on, upon examining her mouth our midwife realized this was due to lip and tongue "ties." My heart sank a little. You see, this too is an "ocean" I have experienced before. Breastfeeding was increasingly more painful and within two days I experienced bleeding. We were using all the tools in our tool box to deal with this... Just two years ago we dealt with Gemma's lip and tongue ties and similar issues that followed. To put this in analogy terms: These waves SUCKED, the sand was stuck between my toes, I wasn't wearing enough sunscreen and I got stung by a jelly fish... this ocean was not an ocean I wanted to visit again. 

"Your grace abounds in deepest waters. Your sovereign hand will be my guide. Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, You've never failed and You won't start now!"

These oceans aren't puddles. They aren't piddly little lakes, guys. These are mountains of water. These are familiar, but never predictable.

As I observed the ocean ahead of me, noticing that Reia's ties were definitely going to be an issue, I became emotional. The first time we were in this place, we didn't know what was coming. We didn't know it would mean gallons of tears from myself and Gemma. We didn't know that people wouldn't understand and would diminish our experience. This time, I could see the waves for what they are... I felt the hot sun, I remembered the strong current. I didn't want to be here again... but I WAS here. And I AM here. This ocean is the same, but wisdom and experience (and PLENTY of help) is helping me to navigate these waters for the second time.

Some oceans are intense, challenging and exhausting... but some are incredible and exciting adventures. Having two beautiful gifts from God to call my own is proving to be an extremely magnificent adventure. Between the tantrums and dirty diapers, nap schedules and snacks, laugh attacks and lullabies, night time prayers and morning kisses... the ocean I am in right now is worth the work. Most importantly, I am worth the work.

This life of mine is a gift. The many oceans I have seen, touched, endured, surfed and dog-paddled in... they are my life... and the secret to truly enjoying a life full of oceans is simple...

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior"

The Great Unknown

Hey friends!

This may very well be the last blog post I write before our second child arrives. I'm due anyday now! 

My heart feels calm.

I am not talking about "prepared," though arguably we are quite prepared as we have had two children before. The calm that I feel is because I don't know what is on the horizon and I find that exciting. I have never met this little person before. I don't know what they look like or how they smell. I don't know if they will sleep all the time or keep us up at all hours, breaking glass with their screaming. I don't know if they will be perfectly healthy or have their struggles. 

I don't know. 

But that is beautiful to me. It makes me feel closer to God. Because HE does know.

I think back on the 26 years of life that I have lived. I have memories from when I was 3, awaiting my baby sister. I knew mom's belly had grown, but I had no idea that she would soon give birth to my competition 😉. I definitely didn't know that she would give birth to an incredible person that (with time) I grew to appreciate and now love, 23 years later. 

I had no idea that being the 4th of 5 children would mean that I rarely spent time alone and rarely wore brand new clothing. I had no idea that these things would just create a stronger bond between myself and my siblings as we are unafraid of sharing our hearts and lives with each other. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I had no idea that our crazy, busy household would fill me with so much compassion for those who are in need of family. 

I didn't know!

I had no idea that my freshman year of college would be one of the hardest things I've ever done and one of the loneliest years of my life. I didn't know that I didn't know who I was... And that was horrifying, but was exactly what I needed.

People. I didn't know.

I feel calm because I may not be in control of the future, but I am in control of how I look at it. I set the boundaries today that become paths tomorrow. My perception is on a leash, I can make the most of what comes... Even if what comes SUCKS. 

The great unknown is terrifying and exciting. It's wild and mysterious. It will be hard and kick my butt sometimes, it will stretch me and grow me and scare the hell out of me... But when I think back on where I have come from, I feel calm knowing it's always been out of my hands. 

That's the true secret to feeling peaceful: Being wise enough to know I cannot control ____. But being brave enough to live knowing that ____ can only control me if I let it. 

This week that blank is "becoming a mother of a second child"... Next week it may be something else. 

Get used to being in the unknown. That's where God really works His magic.

Have you listened to Oceans, by Hillsong United recently? This is the second-to-last post in my series of blogs inspired by this song. Take a listen, listen with your heart!

http://youtu.be/DGRz2BJQRXU

When Oceans Rise

I am unfortunately quite familiar with struggle. Due to pride and ignorance, I often have endured struggle on my own, citing "If it's MY struggle, then ONLY I have to deal with this." What a lonely place that is! I frequently found myself angry with God because the world around me was just getting too deep and I couldn't feel his life vest around me... I couldn't see the light house... I couldn't feel anyone reaching to help me resurface. In my effort to be kinder to myself, I know that much of this perception of God was a sheer misunderstanding. I felt that it was only responsibility to give give give, so I rarely gave others an opportunity to bless me. I rarely opened up and shared my weakness because I was terrified of living a "taker" life. But pride played a large part... because lets face it, we live in a world where weakness needs to be fixed. We can work out longer, eat EVEN healthier, do NEW things, try harder... when was the last time that you overheard someone share their struggle and you DIDN'T automatically attempt to find a solution for them in your mind, or out loud?

 Is weakness automatically a negative? Are we afraid of feeling weak?

 Using the analogy of the ocean: If you were swimming along, blissfully enjoying your time in the water, then out of no where the ocean began rising and you could no longer reach the ocean floor... does this mean you are weak, or simply that you need reinforcement? You need to adjust? You weren't prepared... but unless you experience that new challenge, you have no idea how to then stretch yourself. Your limits haven't been tested.

 I hope you don't hear me saying that offering support or encouragement is BAD. My goodness, if you know that someone is struggling and are able to be a light into their darkness, please do it! I feel that the true message I have here today is that we all NEED to experience a rising ocean every once in a while. We all NEED to be challenged. To learn to ask for help. To learn to rely on God. To learn to trust the person God has been raising us to be.

 Why is empowerment such a steady message throughout my blog posts?

 I never knew what I was truly capable of. I don't mean by human standards. I am a firm believer that God has a calling for each of our lives and that many of us accidentally or intentionally live outside of that calling. I believe that the struggles we endure and the bad things that happen to us in this life are meant to challenge us to choose to be the person God created us to be, or someone else.

 I think of Job. He lost everything that he was known for, EXCEPT his faith. Satan thought that Job was only faithful so long as his life was easy. He faced temptations of many kind during that dark time... but in the end, his life was restored ten fold. But did all of that richness and love that he was re-gifted take away from the dark chapter? Did having new sons and daughters take away the pain of losing his other sons and daughters? While this isn't an item that's addressed in the bible, I have to pitch a tent here for a few minutes. If you are reading this and you are someone who has endured a dark chapter, or are enduring a dark chapter... It doesn't have to define you, but it does become a part of your story. Job lived on to be exceedingly wealthy and had incredibly beautiful sons and daughters. But he will also always be the man who lost everything but stayed faithful. What you have endured makes you a spiritual badass. There is something about that word that just sums up my feelings on this topic so completely. You have endured the good, the bad and the ugly. When the oceans rose, you survived. No matter how you dwell on your weakness or on how poorly you handled your "dog paddling" chapter, remember how you endured: God's strength in you. It wasn't your strength alone, it was your soul's primitive instinct to embrace who God created you to be.

 We don't always handle that raw emotional place with the most grace. Some of us rely on God with ease, some of us kick and scream, feeling exposed and wait until the last second to truly rely on Him. The measure of our faith is not simply measured by how gracefully we maintained it... but by how humbly we are willing to execute it. When ocean's rise my soul will rest in your embrace... for I am Yours and You are mine.

Where Feet May Fail

I am what you might call a recovering skeptic. Some know, some don't know, I was virtually "single" up until I was 22 and began courting my (now) husband, Jason. This was both intentional AND unintentional. 

You see, I had strategically surrounded myself with the kind of people I just KNEW I wanted to build a life with. Beautiful, spiritually gifted and magnetic people. People I still count as true friends. I had no plan though. The way I saw it, It wasn't true trust in God if I couldn't leave the entire future up to Him. I believed that if I created plans based on my abilities or my passions, I would somehow miss out on the fullness of God. I was perfectly willing to keep myself busy, but I convinced myself that whoever I pursued and eventually married would pave the road for me... helping me to truly, selflessly, live a life for God... free of "self." It was a great plan... What I somehow overlooked here, was that I completely skipped out on living by faith in the present. 

What began to happen was I diminished my gifts that GOD had given me, essentially trying to become empty of self by becoming a blank canvas instead. I majorly limited my love-interest horizon and called it wisdom. I dabbled in everything and nothing. Skilled at everything. Any future missionary's ideal wife. Before I discuss the obvious repercussions of how this impacted my life, let me just say how absolutely unfair it was for me to put that pressure on men in my life. I am still learning to forgive myself for that season of my life. Men, my own age, who were working their butts off to mature their gifts and create a life that honored God and their gifts. James 2:26 "As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead." I am thankful for God's grace in many of those friends for walking with me through that season and loving me in spite of my obvious failures. Not all of my relationships were so lucky. I found myself working a regular job 40 hours a week, working 25+ hrs a week with missionary apprentices, having biweekly sick days due to my Endometriosis and Depression (More on these in a future post). I was busy and overwhelmed, but aimless. I was ready to become whatever "God" needed me to be...truthfully, I was probably more concerned with becoming what that guy over there needed in a wife. The biggest irony of all?? Most of these young beautiful people in my life had no clue that I was open to finding a relationship. 

My dedication to ONLY being who God wanted me to be began to look an awful lot like "I don't have time for silly romances." I didn't understand what I know now about love, that God created the chase. He wants it to be an adventure, fun, full of compromise and adjusting... But all of those things felt complicated. It felt unstable... surely God wouldn't call me to take on such a confusing venture. What I was totally oblivious to was that God was teaching me about faith. 

When I accepted a summer internship in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 2011, I was making yet another "just buying time" decision, so I could keep busy until God revealed my future spouse and voila, then I would have purpose! (How silly all of this sounds now.) I apparently met Jason on my first full day in Oklahoma. I don't remember his face that day, only his presence. I KNEW what kind of guy God would want me to marry someday and in just a few moments I made a judgement that I was too serious for someone like him (and several other guys around me that summer). I didn't even make time to talk to him. It wasn't until a month later, Jason brought his brother and a friend to my youth class. I made eye contact with him for the first time- and wow, his magnetism on that afternoon 4 years ago, it still brings a smile to my face. I remember him sharing with pride about the tattoo on his wrist and his college homework he had set aside so he could participate in my class. I was very wrong about his level of "serious". I was in unknown territory. He wasn't very "spiritual" on the surface. *Gasp* was I liking him for superficial reasons? Orr... was I seeing through a lens of faith? What I was admiring about him was the message on his wrist, not the fact that it was a tattoo. What I learned about him when he shared that he attended college year-round was that he was a passionate and disciplined worker. What I was seeing when he set aside his homework to participate in a youth activity is that he was never too busy to slow down. He didn't come nicely polished, he wasn't spiritual "noodles in a cup," which I humbly confess is what I was after- EASY faith... building a life with Jason would require faith. 

Jason and I crossed paths a few times that summer. I focused on my youth group and various church responsibilities. I didn't pay very close attention, but i'm sure he was dating someone at some point. As the summer busily continued, I made a discovery about myself... I needed to reawaken my gifts. I needed to find somewhere that would allow me to use them frequently so I could become who God intended for me to be. In October I officially relocated to Tulsa and began what I thought would be a lengthy and independent journey. I looked at two-bedroom apartments, researched fostering and adoption as a single parent, nearly accepted a full-time internship to work with a church that had Spanish and Sign Language ministries... But God had other plans. By late November I was talking to Jason regularly. I thought he had a girlfriend... I am unashamed to admit that I was intentionally more REAL with him because I didn't feel the need to have a guard up around him. I didn't have to "vet" him or try to make him meet some kind of standard that I believed God wanted for the man I would marry someday... because he "wasn't single." I was just real... and I became really surprised when I learned he was available. 

'Real' is what it took for Jason to be able to see my heart for God and people. Things he fell in love with... But it took lowering those walls and truly getting to know him that opened my heart to what God had in store. Not the blank canvas that I was trying to be. So began a time in my life where I spiritually stepped out of the boat and frequently imagined myself sinking at any moment... Asking God, "am I doing it right??" I finally was ready to work my butt off and figure out what God was preparing for me... it just so happens that my journey of honoring my true gifts involves Jason. The secret ingredient. The man I wasn't looking for. God continues to whisper... "I am here." Jason is able to call me out when he sees my faith begin to shake. When my feet may fail me. He has been the greatest gift from God to help me see my potential, my leadership abilities, my weaknesses and my strengths. He has helped me fully comprehend that faith without actions is useless... It doesn't have to be flawless,  it just has to be real.

(Picture: the first photo I have of Jason and I together... Days before we officially began courting.)

My Faith Will Stand

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I haven't always been the most warm and fuzzy of individuals. My story doesn't need explaining, but I find a lot of peace in sharing it.

If you have read my previous posts, you heard me make reference to an event that happened when I was a child. The healing I have found and the strength I now walk in has been a stark contrast to where I was once upon a time... But that doesn't change the scars I have. I felt silenced. I felt small. I felt alone. One person wronged me and my young heart began to close itself off from love from all directions. It wasn't a reflection on my family or friends that I pushed them away.  I wasn't wise enough to understand that not everyone was a threat. Growing up I was quiet, reserved, sarcastic and quick tempered. Some of these things I learned as a way to cope, some of them were purely reactive. I lacked patience and I avoided close relationships. 

When I was 22 I attended a program called Pathways. I have so much to say about this program and my experience there, but I will save that for another post. The growth I've experienced over the last few years has been incredible for me. I've been showered with support and a great community here in Tulsa and beyond.  However, the truth is that I was bitter and quick tempered until my early 20s. Not only has my transition been hard work, I'm also finding that not everyone sees me differently yet. What appeared to be temper or stubbornness before, may simply be confidence now. What once appeared to be cold-shoulder-distance may simply be boundaries now. It's not that I have become a different person, but I have different and healthier motives now. What I discovered in Pathways is that I have a voice, I can be heard and I have wisdom. I am a hard worker who is very passionate and can use my story to choose different for myself and my family.

(Photo taken in 2011 while doing Demo after the Joplin Tornado)

 Choosing to respond, instead of reacting. What I am learning is that my confidence isn't always received well, no matter how I show it. What I am learning is that my silence for decades makes my "voice" seem defensive. What I have learned is that I don't owe people an explanation or an apology for how much I've changed, but I also cannot expect my change to be understood or received. I cannot expect all of those who have known me the longest to see past what they believe to be true about me. 

I am a person who is comfortably riding the waves of my life as God intended, but that doesn't mean everyone can see that. I am trusting that God has inspired me to use the strength he gave me. My confidence is not in myself... It's in God's power to restore. One ripple in the water at a young age, changed the trajectory of my life. It interrupted the natural growth God intended for me. When I watch home videos of myself from my early childhood, I can see the boldness and strength that I see in myself now.

(My Two Year Old Self)

 I was independent. I didn't need a spotlight, I just wanted to dance to the beat of my own drum... It didn't matter who watched or approved. As a woman, wife and mother, I find that I have great confidence in choosing what works best for us. This doesn't mean our choices are always widely accepted... But it does mean that our choices, which we make using great discernment, are in our best interests, not made on a whim. Marriage and motherhood have brought me to my knees in prayer more times than in the rest of my life all together. 

My faith in God has been the crux of my confidence. Without him, I am still an afraid and defenseless little girl. Still riding the waves of someone else's actions. 

You see, my bitterness and my temper were masks for fear. If someone I trusted was able to harm me, what was stopping others from harming me? I learned to protect myself in the only way that made sense at 4 years old. Become unlovable, cold, cynical. I refuse to live there now, but that does not change my bold spirit. Boldness, confidence and dedication to my passions and my beliefs are trademarks of who I am. But these traits are no longer ways to keep others at arms lengths. Instead, it's just authenticity. If we disagree, it would be discovered eventually... But passive aggression is no longer my MO. The absence of passive aggression does not make someone aggressive... It just makes them direct.

It has taken me a long time to hear my voice and feel it had a place. To feel I could stand up for what I believe in. But it's not Tab who has anything to stand on... Nor is it 'man' that she stands against. No, it's her faith in something greater- SOMEONE greater. Satan likes to remind us of who we used to be and will find a thousand ways to do it... I will never achieve perfection, but in oceans deep... my faith will stand.