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

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! 

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?

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