When You Can’t Be Home for the Holidays

We’re at my grandparents’ house on the farm, just a few short miles from ours. My siblings, cousins, and I are at the kids table, making jokes and stealing each other’s food. The adults are in the dining room, no doubt having some boring adult conversation. There are seconds and thirds and then it’s time for pie, but not before you tell Grandma what you’re thankful for this year. I always go for the pumpkin, of course, but there’s also apple, maybe cherry. My uncles head downstairs to watch football and there’s a good chance Grandpa and Dad are already taking a nap. The dishes have been started ⎼ Mom washing, Aunt drying, Grandma putting away.

Read more at Sarasota Mom's Blog.

What if it's not all about you?

It’s September 23rd. The calendar above my desk thinks it’s still August.

Hurricane Irma stole most of this month from me. We started hearing about her at the end of August and by Labor Day we knew she was coming for Florida. We evacuated to Georgia on the 7th, she hit on the 10th, we came back on the 14th. I was on high alert the entire time but I feel like I’m just starting to wake up.

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook you saw my attempts at documenting our story. I also shared about evacuating on Sarasota Mom’s Blog.

I’ve always believed that God led us to this place at this time for a reason. How else do you explain moving to a place where you know no one and have no rational excuse to do so? From the time I came home from work and said, “Let’s do this,” to the way our house sold in one day, to the fast connections we made when we got here, I knew that we were doing what we were meant to. But I always thought it was for us, for me. The first 22 days of September have shown me how wrong I was.

There was a point as the hurricane was getting close to making landfall and I was tired of being anxious and scared. Instead I got angry. Why would God bring us to this place only to put us in the path of a storm like this? Why did we give up everything in Colorado to come here and possibly lose even more? We had come here to reset, to heal, to grow and now all of that was being tested. It didn’t take long for Him to answer, “What if it’s not all about you?” Oh, ok then.

After we got home, took care of the leak from the bedroom window, did laundry, cleaned out the refrigerator, and tried to get back into our normal, we started hearing about those that may not have a normal for a long, long time. Homes that had been flattened or flooded, possessions destroyed, jobs and businesses lost. The poorest among us that were already living with next to nothing now literally have nothing.

The stories keep coming. This video broke me wide open yesterday. Before the hurricane I was crying for myself, now I’m crying for them. And now I know what He meant. We did come here for ourselves, but He knew better. We are here for this. For the help we can provide and for the work he’s doing in our hearts.

The Beginning and End of Crib Season

I snagged my son’s crib off a listing on Craigslist.

It was an Ikea one, simple but sturdy, and came with the mattress. All for $40. I stood in the Craigslist stranger’s garage, surrounded by other outgrown baby gear and two kids who rode their bikes in and out without much regard for who was in the way. The original owner told me how to put it together, and as I handed her the money and put the pieces in my Jeep, I wondered if she was sad to be giving up this season of her motherhood. On the outside she didn’t seem to be. She seemed relieved that it was going, making space for the next one.  

Like many naïve first time moms, I thought that crib would be used right away.

Read more at Sarasota Moms Blog. 

Pieces

I search through the pieces 

Trying to find the whole

The broken outnumber the perfect 

Once all the same 

Jagged edges and reshaped lines

Reveal their true beauty 

34

I remember when I was twelve and approaching my thirteenth birthday. I was SO excited to turn thirteen. I would finally be a teenager and imagined how cool and different it would be when I wasn’t a “kid” anymore. Of course all thirteen got me was an awkward body and middle school. I don’t recall being that excited about a birthday since (well except maybe for twenty-one).

Today I turned thirty-four and my husband said something that has made me want to rethink how I approach birthdays. He asked me if birthdays even feel like birthdays anymore. They definitely don’t feel like they did when I was younger and even if we celebrate with dinner or an event the anticipation that I felt when I was little just isn't there. This could just be the nature of getting older, but what if I could recapture even a bit of it?

I’m going to start by making a list of what I’m excited about in my next year of life. I’m excited about doing more writing and seeing where that goes. I’m excited about exploring parts of Florida that I haven’t been too yet. I’m excited about opportunities at work and work travel. I’m excited about friendships that are growing deeper. I’m excited (and terrified) to see my son as a three year old.

What are some things you’re looking forward to about your next birthday?

Corner Man

Some days I don't want to go to the fight. We've seen this opponent before. He's bigger, stronger, unforgiving, and lethal.

But I go because you are my fighter and I am your corner man. 

I tape you up and put on your gloves. I say a prayer. You are shaking and unsure. There is fear in your eyes, but I try not to let you see the fear in mine.

The fight starts and he has you against the ropes. I feel every punch, every cut, every breath he knocks out of your lungs. He wins the first round.

I wipe the sweat and blood from your face. I bandage up the cuts and tell you, you can do it. You say you don't know how. Please God, I pray, please give him strength.

The round starts and again he overcomes you. He is beating the life out of you. There is nothing I can do but watch. Round two is over. You are bruised, bloodied, torn.

Round three. This is it. You are exhausted and he knows it. He has worn you down and now goes for the kill. He has you on your knees. The ref is counting you out. You look at me and I see you want to give up. Please God, give him strength. You stand and face him.

There is new life in you and you start fighting back. Now you are the one on the offense. Round after round you keep fighting. He isn’t giving up, but now you know his moves. You intercept his next attempt. With one last blow you knock him out. 

You raise your hands in victory.

You are my fighter and I am your corner man. 

Blinking

With every blink

Tick of the clock

Inch you grow

Time is taking you away from me

And me from you

Two blinks ago you were

Laying on my chest

Our souls merging

To the rhythm of sunrises

And sunsets

A blink ago you were

Crawling into the future

Dragging my heart with you

To the place

Where time stands still

In the next blink you will be

Walking into the unknown

Leaving me behind

Standing in the shadows

Blinking