Trust God

"Trust God" is never bad advice. It's a high calling. He is our peace. He is our protector. He is our Father. 

I have never been in a position that required such faith in God before. My struggle to follow is not a superficial one. The struggle I have experienced is by no means a lack of trust in Him, it's really more of a struggle to understand my part. Does trust mean It's time to be still, or time to take action? Does faith mean I just need to persevere (because He will provide) or let go (because He will provide)? Do you see my dilemma?

 I cannot tell you how many times I have been told to "let go and let God," in some way, shape or form in the last 9 months. It's usually said with the best of intentions, but it's said often nonetheless. The truth is, I live a blessed life. A life where we are able to live on one income and I can stay home with our kids. I have been able to watch my kids grow before my eyes. I have seen all of their firsts. I have been able to care for them when they are not well. I have been able to fill our home with laughter and memories. However, things aren't easy. Financially we planned for me to work. I planned to build my business after Reia was born so I could pursue my passions while helping to supplement income for our growing family. I planned to be the easy going mom who didn't bat an eye about taking weekend trips away to focus on my marriage. I was going to be a fast food mom. I was going to be the non-organic-it's-ok mom. I was going to be the chill mom... The spontaneous plans mom. 

I was. 

Plans didn't change suddenly. In fact, it took me months to realize that I was no longer just "delaying my plans, again" I was rewriting them. That's not a lack of faith, friends, that's life. God is no less faithful in my life because life is not going smoothly. I am not ungrateful by acknowledging this... I have prayed in faith that Reia would have better health. I have prayed in faith that we would experience more freedom as a family. But when Reia turned 9 months old I made a decision to acknowledge the ways our story has been rewritten. Up to this point I prayed in faith that God would allow her poor immunity to improve, that he would allow us to travel to see friends and family, that he would allow me to work, that we wouldn't spend so much on Doctor's appointments, that I would have time to be able to care for myself better.

I still believe that God is able to do these things. I believe that we are growing closer to God, each other and our church family during this experience. But I also believe that God doesn't make mistakes. What has changed, essentially, is that I trust that He doesn't want me to work right now. I trust that he will provide for us financially, somehow, but it won't be through me. I trust that Reia has a long road ahead of her and it will need my full attention at times. I trust that most people have no idea how overwhelming and confusing these 9 months have been, but that doesn't mean they dont sympathize. I am confident that just because someone thinks I am not trusting God, that doesn't mean they're right. I trust that my struggles, your struggles and "their" struggles are all struggles... And we can support each other without comparing them. I trust that we have humbly sought help and assistance from every side. I trust that we are making the wisest choices we can on our budget. I trust that I have taken a challenging year and made incredible memories for my family to look back on, in spite of our struggles. I trust that God's assignment for me this year is to fight, but fighting for my family looks different everyday. Sometimes fighting means we make it to bed time without raising our voices with each other. Sometimes fighting means we forgive each other's exhausted messy feelings. Sometimes fighting means pushing for more bloodwork and tests to determine what is ailing my baby. Sometimes trusting means listening to our Doctor and missing out on activities for weeks at a time. Sometimes fighting means we choose to silence satan's lies that threaten to steal our joy, harmony or confidence. Sometimes fighting means allowing myself to grieve the changes we have experienced so that we leave no room for even an ounce of resentment. 

Faith is a living organism, folks. It is the dark we shoot into. It is what fills our hands when we decide to let go. If it doesn't bring you to tears, to your knees, or to the edge of all you know... Is it really faith? 

“Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen.”

Hebrews 11:1 HCSB

Hebrews 11 goes on and on about how believers did things by faith... By faith, by faith, by faith... And in the end, all of them were "approved" by their faith, but none of them saw what was promised. We may see easier days in this lifetime. In fact, I'm sure we will! But none of it is our final destination. This place in all of it's imperfection does not appeal to me when I remember the glory ahead of us. The many things I wish we could do... It's all less shiny in comparison. For now I choose faith. For now I wait to see if I am being called to action, or called to be still. I trust that it will make sense someday. I trust that none of our struggle is in vain.

The kind of mom I AM

The quiet was deafening, so I went to Gemma's bed. She slept in until 10am, people... I missed her. 

I opened her door and heard her stir. I tip toed... Her bed is covered with a tent, so I pulled back the sheet and she turned to me. "Gooo mornin!" She whispered. I excitedly hurried to her bed and plopped down. "Gemma! It's morning! I missed you! Good morning!" She giggled and blushed "Good morning momma, I love you!" We had a kiss fight, then hugged. 

I realized early on that Gemma is my morning person. She greets the day with a bang and loves to see the sun come up. I love being a part of her morning. I LOVE getting to sing "GOOD MORNING TO YOUUUUU!" As we walk to breakfast. 

She is a fire cracker full of life... I know she is a world changer, so I know I play an important part in helping her become who she was born to be. It's outside of my comfort zone, but oh how special it feels to brighten her world. 

I'm not the Pinterest mom who oozes sparkles and mod podge. I'm not super Green, I'm not stylish. I am not more or less than _____, those just aren't my gifts. 

What I am is Tab. I make ordinary things special. I mix and match socks, I hand my kids sheets of stickers and clean it up later. We finger paint, and play at the splash pad in our street clothes. I butcher songs and insert my kids' names. I celebrate milestones with cheers and tickle fights, even if all we accomplished was making it to our destination without throwing a fit. 

I bet I'm sounding like a good mom right about now, or maybe I just sound full of myself... But that's because I'm celebrating my strengths. My strengths are gifts to my kids, but so are my weaknesses. My lack organization makes things a little more exciting (funky sock combos). My lack of style means I stress less when my kid throws up on me. Physical touch isn't my primary love language, so the times I feel moved to initiate cuddles, it's special and memorable. I am introverted, that means I am not super great at anticipating Gemma's social needs, but I make our time at home magical because it's "my zone." 

We are all made up of give and take. Strengths and weaknesses. Pros and cons... But we can use all of them to our benefit, because we are each "enough mom" to go around. Our children weren't given to us at random. We were pre selected to raise our families. I don't know about you, but that's both the biggest compliment and the biggest challenge I have ever received, but I accept it either way.

When we welcomed Reia

THE STORY:
I am what's considered a "survivor" when I gave birth (Book) I won't go into much detail about this, only to be vulnerable and explain that sexual trauma has influenced my journey as a mother in a profound way. My first birth was a difficult experience, followed by months of postpartum depression. The day we learned we were expecting our second child, I was honestly a bit anxious. However over time I sought support and committed to make this pregnancy the healthiest experience it could possibly be, physically and emotionally. I wanted to combat my fear of "what if?" and let's just say, I had an incredible pregnancy. We chose to birth at home, we found a great midwife Rebecca, I had a mother blessing, I invested in essential oils, I filled my life with great music... It was incredible.

Around 36-weeks I was swimming with my 41-weeks-pregnant sister and my 2 year old daughter, when my 2 year old decided to sprint around the pool toward the deep end. I instinctually pulled myself out of the pool to get to her, quickly realizing that I hyper extended my round ligaments while doing so. I began contracting. A warm bath and essential oils calmed things down, but from 36 weeks until 40 weeks, I suffered from prodromal labor due to ligaments that were hyperextended, a pubic bone that had shifted and my pelvis had tilted backward. I know this because I eventually saw Dr Zimmerman who specializes in prenatal chiropractic health. Thanks to her work, I found relief from my prodromal labor and was set up to have a healthy delivery! *i cannot imagine the labor/birth I would have had were it not for her expertise!*

The birth:

The night before my water broke we were with my parents and brother's family, grilling out. We decided to go for a walk after dinner and see if maybe we could get my 41-week-baby to commit and finally come on out. Nothing really happened that night, I noticed my contractions were evenly spaced, 15 mins apart, but that wasn't close enough to alert everyone around me. We went home, I mentioned to Jason that i could tell these were real contractions, but we were a long way from true labor. He nodded politely, knowing my oldest child sent very similar contractions for a whole 24 hrs before she was born. He was cool and collected, knowing I would keep up my over-sharing and he wouldn't miss a thing.
The next morning I was up, sent Jason off to work his half-day shift, Gemma was up with the sun and wanted to play. I did laundry, made a pizza, colored and cleaned... Around 11am I told Jason "We are definitely having a baby today... No rush, just prepare yourself... I'm still not telling our parents yet in case I'm wrong." (I was 41 weeks pregnant, he knew the drill, I told him everything... So these frequent updates were just for my peace of mind and he knew it, bless my heart.)

Around noon my dad called, just wanting to chat... I thought to myself "oh no... I don't remember how to have small talk!" I tried to hold a conversation during a few contractions, but I just couldn't stay focused, so I wrapped it up and went back to eating my pizza *mmmm*. Jason got home between 12:30 and 1, I was happy to see him, we needed to get the birth stuff together! By this time I was contracting every 7-10mins.

I had meditated for 9 months on a water birth, using the song Oceans by Hillsong United (Song). We decorated the nursery with an ocean theme, It was amazing and very effective. My oldest, Gemma wouldn't nap in her bed that day, so we cuddled on the couch and we both fell asleep. This was an incredibly rare occurrence, so I was once again affirmed that this was true labor, as a calming gravity seemed to draw Jason, Gemma and I together.

Around 4pm I felt a contraction and a pop, as the baby dropped lower. I noticed a little extra fluid, but It didn't even fill my pad, so I wasn't confident that my water had broken.  I messaged my midwives to get their opinion, they had me take an amnio test from my birth kit to see if my water had broken. Yep! Tested positive! Turns out not everyone's water breaks in a giant gush! I went back to resting on the couch, I nursed Gemma through one contraction, knowing we would have my parents come get her soon. Breastfeeding triggered very strong contractions so I messaged for my parents to come pick her up ASAP. While waiting for them I slowly walked and grabbed some items Gemma would need for her FIRST sleep over (ever). I was growing emotional, wishing I could prepare her better, but I was quite distracted by the contractions at this point. Jason was still playing XBox when they arrived to pick her up around 4:30pm. We both expected this to be like my first birth, at this rate we have 12 more hours... So not in a hurry. I hadn't updated him in about 20 minutes, so he had no clue that things were serious enough that I had asked my parents to come.

(This is a nice place to explain that the cervix isn't a crystal ball, things can change quickly In labor, no two births are a like, etc...)

I felt most comfortable in the bathroom sitting on the toilet, so I stayed in there for a while by myself. I felt that things were getting serious so I messaged my midwives around 5pm, telling them it was time to come for support and delivery. I then moved to kneeling at my bed.

I just have to say, I am extremely proud of myself and my focus through some pretty intense and quick contractions. I breathed into my contractions and relaxed various parts of my body as I envisioned melting through the floor. As a birth Doula myself, I "doula'd" myself and tried to identify how far I had to go between my contractions, an effort to conserve my energy. In the midst of each contraction my heart was fully present to "open" and welcome our little one. As things intensified I began chanting OPEN.

Around 5:30pm my first midwife arrived and began monitoring baby and helping me breathe through contractions. Jason was on the phone with my sister in law/ photographer, trying to discuss with ME if I felt this was baby time. I couldn't answer, so my midwife politely told him "she's getting pretty serious, I would have her head this way." Between 5:30 and 6pm, two other midwives arrived and began inflating our birth tub immediately. I tried side lying for a few moments. They were about to check my cervix for dilation around 6pm, but the baby wouldn't have it so I asked for help to go to the bathroom to pee (yes, you heard me, not poop, PEE.) 

On my way from my bed to the bathroom (4 feet away) I began feeling the urge to push. They encouraged me to try and wait (you know, so they could stop trying to set up the birth tub and put a tarp down to deliver a baby in my bed room instead!) But I couldn't. This was just after 6pm, my photographer came in at this point. While holding on around Jason's neck, I stood in my half bathroom and delivered our daughter, catching her myself. I am very thankful I made it to the tile, because as it turns out, about 90% of my amniotic fluid was still in my uterus at the time that I delivered my daughter, making quite a splash as she came out! It was such a whirlwind, such a beautiful, heavenly whirlwind. I didn't get the water birth I had dreamed of and prepared for, but because my focus was on my meditation, rather than the details, my experience was perfect. It was empowering and messy and memorable and exciting and profoundly healing.

Reia Kaye Cordelia made her appearance at 41 weeks and 1 day. Arriving at 6:14pm on August 14th, weighing 9lbs and 21 3/4" long. I was officially in active labor for 2 hours and 14 minutes and loved every minute of it. To read my about my journey during my pregnancy meditations on Oceans, visit my blog

Photos by Angelyn Moura Photography @ http://angelynmouraphotography.com/photographer/

This is for the Moms (We need to stick together)

I am a mother. While this does not tell you everything that I am, I feel that it does elude to quite a bit. Today, as I survey my messy home and as I reflect on how super awesome Walmart Grocery Pick Up is... I thought of these three simple ways that all of you moms out there understand me. When I begin to feel overwhelmed... You help me remember I am not alone. We need to stick together!

We change diapers

•This is literally the first thing I imagine when I consider motherhood. I automatically can assume that the other mothers in my life have changed diapers or have potty trained their children. This is the first tool in my self-love arsenal. When I feel tempted to compare myself to other mothers, I am instantly humbled by the fact that we all handle poop... We all deserve a medal (and a nice Jacuzzi bath.)

We wash laundry... And eventually put it away

•There is a quote by Thema Davis that I have heard before, "Saying yes to happiness means learning to say "no" to things that stress you out." Yes, chores stress me out, but obviously someone needs to do them, right? So this quote isn't saying "GOODBYE RESPONSIBILITY!" Rather, it just means that each of us are also raising little people with needs (and they are freaking adorable most of the time) so we have to prioritize. We all have to do this. Sometimes we choose stress, sometimes we choose happiness... But don't worry, we all do it. We all have this in common, no matter how picture perfect we seem on Facebook.

We play

•If you have children, you probably have played make believe of some kind. Maybe your kids are like my oldest, she wants to be a Train. Not an Engineer, an actual Train. I support this. Her vibrant imagination is so sweet and full of life. Because we play, we are all a part of who our children believe they can become. The sky is the limit. When we get caught up in the routine and chaos that our days hold, we sometimes lose sight of this. We are raising Doctors, Engineers, Nurses, Politicians... They may be business owners, bosses, subordinates... Not only are we raising who they will become, but we are raising them to believe in those around them as well. Leaders and Followers. We need both. We get to let them lead, showing them how to follow. 

Do you need a healthy dose of self love? My love language is affirmation, so basically I can dish it out all day long. Leave me a message! I would love to chat. You are not alone in this big, crazy role... I'm standing with you.

What are other basic ways we can all relate as mothers? Leave your comments!

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!