The Vulnerability Mosaic

So, there is this vulnerability thing. I'm not the expert: Brene Brown is though. You should check out her Ted Talks here and here on vulnerability and shame. Then you'll be all inspired and intermittently feel the need to really open your life up to your loved ones and/or think she's crazy and should leave you alone. Sometimes (usually) you might have both of these thoughts in the very same instant. Also, check out Glenna Melton, she's newer to me, but I want to be her best friend a little I think.

You might also consider buying their books, but then abandon them on a random shelf at Barnes & Noble because books are expensive or possibly because you're irrationally and accurately a little afraid they can see into your soul if you read too many of their words. Never mind about that though... 

Anyway, the vulnerability thing keeps coming up in my life lately. I've been pushed to the edge (and BEYOND!) of my comfort zone in several ways on this front lately it seems. And I'm just so ridiculous. I'm a fan of vulnerability, in others. I respect it an outrageous amount. It's hard work to tell the hard, open truth about your weakness to the world. Still, I long to resist it. If ever I come through to it it's likely because I've already stumbled through the consequences of failing several times. I'm afraid in all this, that God might be whispering to me that vulnerability is my word for the year - or some variation of it. (I must, must commit this week to a word!)

Anyway, the vulnerability thing...

I have had to admit that I failed or was just flat out wrong about something a ridiculous amount of times lately. I've also had a couple gut wrenching, soul bearing conversations with people that mean the world to me. You know the type of conversations that leave you too tired to sleep for more than an hour at a time for days? You know the kind. The ones so heavy you want to forget them forever, but their words replay vividly in your head (even though you can't seem to remember anything else lately). The kind so heavy you can barely talk about them when really getting it out of your loud, self-critical head and into the prayer lives of your nearest and dearest is all you need. The kind so heavy that even when you dare to tell your closest, most trusted friends about them you're a bit cryptic because it's not just your story you hold. And, brilliantly, beautifully the pain of your own heartache reminds you to be extra careful to guard the other's heart. And then, in the heaviness of these conversations, you learn that admitting you are wrong or failed is a breeze compared to admitting your heart is wounded. Taking off the superhero cape defense mechanism that Glenna Melton talks about and admitting you failed seems like an absolute cakewalk. If only you can just keep the cape of apathy that protects you from admitting that someone might have had enough access to your heart to stumble about there and bust you into pieces. Without this cape, you're terrified and nearly certain that your busted heart shards may never be repaired, can never be returned to their original order.

And then a little time passes and you still ache, heavy every day in these things, but miraculously you can keep moving forward. You said the hard vulnerable things out loud and your busted heart did not stop. The broken shards poke you, but you can feel them changing in you. In fact, something alarming and beautiful has happened while you turned your eyes away because the aching was just too heavy to watch the broken heart shards every moment. (your denial cape guarding you briefly as you move forward in the rest of life.) You look back at the busted pieces and their order has changed somehow. The shifting makes complete sense as you feel absolutely shaken. It's puzzling though - there are pieces of you missing entirely now. And you notice amongst your broken chaos pieces of another's heart, all shiny and contrasting - different, but gleaming. You wonder if your missing pieces stuck in someone too.

You take a step back and notice the human design, awed at creation again, the broken heart pieces - mine and theirs - have mingled themselves into a beautiful mess of a mosaic. The pain you let yourself feel let in waves of grace and beauty so heavy that in an instant, the pain is excused - not erased - but accepted, because what are our other choices?

Can we notice the pain away by overthinking it into oblivion? Denying it? No. It's real. It must be felt. Acknowledged, but not fed. Grace and beauty are so much sweeter. Harder to feel, but warmer and dearer. So, you fight and practice and realize this mosaic is just like the eucharisteo fight but harder because it's finding beauty in what hurts you, not just beauty around you. And there is an undeniable ache in the work of finding blessing in your own pain.

It's in there though grace and beauty are the glinting, gleaming mosaic from the sharp shards of us falling all over one another in pain and weakness and truth. They are stunning and they are ever incomplete mosaics. Glowing a bit more beautiful with every break and repair and mingling of our bustedness.

What a holy, heartbreaking, heartmending glorious mess. 

2013 for the win!

I suck at blogging with any sort of regularity. It's comically bad. I feel the need to say that. I don't know who I'm even apologizing to, but there ya go. Moving on...

I posted on New Year's Day of 2013 thinking back about 2012 and the dent it had made in my soul.

Ok, well I didn't say that, but it had. In the midst of it, it felt stagnant. It was a treading water, just get through it, dark sort of year. It ended a bit better than it began, but seriously it mostly just was. It was a year for struggling and growing and learning and tears. I had some not so outrageous goals that I failed at or was disappointed in. Relationally, it was a hard year with several people I value. It's funny because nothing extraordinarily terrible happened, but in some ways that is worse. There is nothing to say about 2012 except eww. I see some value in it all now, but I don't want to do 2012 again. Ever.

In comparison, 2013, I'd do that again. Well, ok, going backwards is stupid, but I can't wait to do 2014 because of the foundation 2013 laid. (Ok, and 2012, but, argh! I don't like to give credit to hard things!) 2013 was bliss. It flooded life with light and hope and smiling again. (I'm not this cheesy, so it must be true!)

At the outset of the year I decided there would be no list of goals and no resolutions to break. I was just going to have a word and a bible verse and try to remember to hold fast to the lesson in those things. In part, because the verse touched me in a Christmas Eve service and the concept of a word and a verse got my attention in another service. If I'm honest though, it was also a little because 2012's goals and hopes felt like an epic fail and I just didn't want to go there again.

So, Psalm 46:10 and I set out to have a year of stillness. I decided to just lean into life a bit more. Let it happen and worry less. Just keep moving forward and Let God be in charge (because He is anyway) and just love and be loved and live my life as it comes worrying about it less and taking it in stride. I wanted to try to cease striving - because trying to control everything is exhausting and it sucks and I suck at it. I failed at the not worrying, not striving, part with great regularity. It got in a little though, I think.

And the year, well, it was awesome. I'm not about to say that it was because I had this non-resolution. I think it was God and timing and just the way of things. I think the non-resolution helped me more clearly step back and see how great life was falling into place around me though. It gave me the peace to enjoy and not race on to control the next thing.

And I liked the out of control of it all because it told the truth.

Relationally, well, I win. I have this extraordinary man in my life. And I could gush extensively, but I'll save that for him and just say: I win! He is more than I knew to want and things I didn't know I needed. I was never the girl rushing to find a man and I don't regret that one bit. Still, I can't imagine being more grateful to have someone's life woven into mine. I am all in and so pleased. (Ok, fine, I'm gushing a little...)

It's been a really good friends and family year too. I feel like I've often had an internal battle getting time and boundaries with people right. It was still challenging this year, but, by accident, I learned to better embrace the concept of quality over quantity. I didn't try so hard this year and it came easier. I was busier professionally and personally and the man got the vast quantity of my time (no regrets!) and yet not being stressed about the rest of it and being intentional about the use of time instead of the length of time made the quality of other interactions much sweeter.

Professionally, it was a good year too. Honestly, it feels like a blur, this last year. I've gotten to do a lot of things that I loved though. My title changed, transitioning me from mostly a single project to more big picture advocacy and education. I love the variety and challenge of it all. I've spent more time on Capitol Hill and learned that I still have a lot to learn, but mostly I just have a lot of people to get to know better. In the end, they're the who and how of getting things done. Luckily the task of getting to know that good-intentioned, passionate, brilliant crowd is one of the great privileges of my job. I've had other crazy, awesome opportunities too. I participated, in a small way, in a US Supreme Court case by submitting an amicus brief and I think it really could have some long-term positive implications for many children. I got to be more involved with several internationally focused efforts - including a trip to Japan, which was an amazing privilege. I've also been put in a place to do some media interaction. Truthfully, the media terrifies me. I'm terrified I'll say something ridiculous or be taken out of context. I'm trying to learn to be grateful for the opportunity even if it terrifies me though, and it's getting easier. Again, people are at the center of my progress. Turns out, the media are just storytellers and I have mostly good stories to tell about the great hope for children in families. Even when the story is hard though, it still needs to be told. So, I'm gaining respect for these storytellers in the hope that we'll all get to a place where more of the good stories are told to inspire more good stories.

2013 was a winner. And I can't help but think about what might be to come in 2014. I have high hopes (dangerous territory, dreaming) and I'm so grateful to end 2013 delighted and expectant. I'm thinking lately and today especially about words and verses that might form a theme. I have some strong contenders, but I'm not committed to anything yet. Any suggestions?

Blogging by Day

In episode 2 of Blogging by Day, I once again pretend that I wrote a blog by just linking to one I wrote for work.

I think my job is cool and on days when I'm not a crabby brat, I know I'm lucky to get to do it. Maybe tonight or tomorrow I'll write a little less formally about the coolness and hardness of getting to be involved with this particular work. For now though, if you want you can click below and read Work Megan Blogging by Day on the Supreme Court's decision about the Indian Child Welfare Act.

Equal Justice Under the Law for Kids, Too. 

A Family of Family-makers

I'm at Summit 9. Christian Alliance for Orphan's annual event gathering orphan care advocates, people who answer God's call to defend the fatherless in a myriad of amazing ways. The event draws parents, professionals, church ministries, and advocates working in adoption, foster care, trafficking, family preservation, global orphan care, and more. This year, I'm in Nashville with advocates from 49 states and 25 countries.

It's an amazing event for many reasons, but it occurred to me tonight that this event is so powerful for me each year because it is a place where I receive the very thing I spend so much of my life fighting for others to have. This is a place where I belong - where my sense of purpose belongs. 

My heart beats for ensuring that children are in families. I believe with every fiber of my being that every child deserves a safe place where they feel like they belong and are loved, a place where they can learn to be who God made them to be. Family is God's exquisite design for this. 

Some of you know me and more of my story than others, but the short and sweet of it is that my biological parents weren't fully equipped to give me what I needed to thrive in life. When this became especially true, a family I already knew and loved said: "we love you" and "you belong here". (What an extraordinary gift!) I was in a hard situation for a time, but I also know I was protected in many ways from far greater harm along the way. I was also moved into the safe embrace of a family far more quickly than may who face the devastating consequences of long-term institutional living or the instability of moving from foster home to foster home. I am blessed to know far less of hard places than many, but my experience gave me a taste of the before and after of a safe and stable family. There is no glimmer of doubt in my mind that it changed me. Family saved my life. How could I help but want that for every child?

This morning, Stephen Ucembe, a young man who grew up in an institution, spoke to us from his depth of knowledge and experience. Research and science speaks clearly to the dire consequences of institutional living, and that matters, but Stephen's story spoke even more brilliantly to the poverty of being unloved and having no sense of self or belonging when growing up in an institution. He told us, simply and profoundly, that "we should help children not to survive, but to live." Orphanages provide physical sustenance: food, education, shelter. Physical sustenance is sometimes enough to prevent physical death, but this is not life. Life is a place to belong, a confidence that you are loved, and the ability to figure out what it is God created you for and pursue it with all your heart.

This passion of mine for family is found, (because of family) but it is not easy work. It can feel overwhelming. The problem sometimes seems to grow faster than it can be addressed. What is right seems obvious to me, but difficult to implement in real life. Irrational barriers sometimes seem to arise to doing things that seem inarguably right. This work is just what I'm meant to be doing, but sometimes the vastness of both the problem and the barriers make it feel like impossibly difficult and lonely work. Summit 9 provides a sense of belonging though. These are my people. This event and its participants are a warm embrace that reminds me that I am not alone in this work. In that sense of belonging, I regain my sense of purpose. The truth shines brighter in the collective that my work is not futile. Together, we make a difference. While there is still much to be done, the stories, the efforts, the expertise surrounding me at Summit 9 reminds me that this work is immensely important and I am not alone in it. These thousands of passionate co-laborers and I are a family. We are a family of family-makers. And if you are a family-maker, you know how profoundly important that sense of belonging can be to keep you on path to pursuing your purpose in life.

What an extraordinary gift to be here amongst family.  

Extra-Shiny-Amazing Weekend

I have all these amazing, breathtaking people in my life. They are go-getter, world-changers. It's the craziest thing. I think I had a perfect weekend. Every single minute replays sweetly in my memory. What are the odds? With the exception of a few hours reading and napping Saturday afternoon (perfect break for my introvert spirit) I was with extraordinary people all weekend.

And, you know, I'm a believer that all people are extraordinary in their own way, but then there are the ones that just seem sort of extra-shiny-amazing. I have this theory that it's because they also live like they think everyone was made extraordinary - more on that another time perhaps. The point now is, I think I only saw all those glittery brilliant type people this weekend and it was magical. What a gift.

One group in particular just shake me to my core every time we're together. They've become some of my nearest and dearest -the friends you can be most yourself with and your most ridiculous with. They are the friends I never thought I'd be cool enough to have. (I'm still not.) The ones you laugh the hardest with. The ones that you're so confident will pray for your heartbreak and celebrate your victories. I love them individually, but when they all land in one place, be still my heart. I spent Friday night and Saturday morning through brunch with this collaboration of amazing. (Yes, we had a sleepover. Don't judge with your jealous selves!). I still consistently wonder if they'll get tired of me soon. I often think: "how on earth am I allowed to hang out with these bright stars?" I sort of hope that never stops echoing in my mind. I want to always be in awe of what absolute rockstars they are because it's true. And it's better than any movie to have an insider view of their lives unfolding.

I had an Epiphany epiphany (ha.) this weekend. It was striking and not entirely new, but too frequently forgotten. If you slow down - really slow your mind, your feet, your heart - time stretches out. And from the moment I left work Friday to falling into bed Sunday I remember so many perfect moment details that it seems impossible it all fit into a single weekend.

Instinctively, I want to try and list them, because it seems unconvincing to just say it was all goodness and nothing else. I won't list them though. As much as I am a giver of evidence and prover of things, I don't want to share them. I want to keep them - all mine - like the gift they were. Not all mine, just mine. All mine and ours. They've already been shared just right and resharing might confuse or limit their sweetness somehow. Words just aren't always enough for everything.

I'll just say thank you though. If I saw you this weekend, thank you for being extra-shiny-amazing in my life. Thanks to the Creator of you all. And, I'm so thankful for the perspective to recognize and dwell in the warm embrace of it all. A year ago, my heart wasn't anywhere near this, find happiness and cling to it, place. It's good and light and I do not take it for granted. This weekend was a glimmer of eucharisteo. The wonder I believed in, sought after, raved about. Those beautiful words I read over and over are, beyond my most hopeful expectations, even cozier lived out.

Default Emotions

In the last year or so, I keep being reminded how often I assume a default emotion. I actually have all the emotions, it's just I don't want people knowing about them. I mean, it's not like everyone has emotions. I don't want to seem weird. Ok, fine everyone has all the emotions - none of them are bad - only our responses can be. For whatever reason though, I just like to hide mine like some sort of weirdo in denial. So, too often, I just front with my go-to emotion: anger. I don't seem weak with anger. I do seem like a jerk/weirdo/spazz (easy to forget that part it seems).  At least I'm not vulnerable though (lies! we tell ourselves...).

For example...

I'm heartbroken that Russia has banned intercountry adoption and taken an opportunity for family away from children. Rage. Rage. Rage.

I'm confused because someone responds in the exact opposite way I would: "Grr. WHY! Grr!"

I'm afraid that if I question something I'll be rejected. "Why don't they just do it the way I want?"

I have a creative idea and am afraid to be rejected so I don't speak up."Why didn't they ask me? Jerks. They don't care what I think!"

Right - are we seeing a theme here? (Where I'm the problem?) I see a theme... (Where I'm possibly a little crazy.)

It's ridiculous of course. Particularly since I really value communication - in theory anyway. In law school, I was always a fan of the things that involved talking it out instead of litigation - things like mediation, negotiation, and policymaking. I still prefer those routes. So, I am, theoretically, a fan of overcommunicating. I'm trained and equipped to help others have healthy conversations and problem solve. I didn't get to do too much of it formally professionally, but I thought I was learning to be relatively effective at it. And when I remember that it's an awesome and useful process, it totally helps navigate in life still. 

I seem to be sort of bad at doing it for myself though. And maybe that's why I was so drawn to it. I needed to learn the skills and I was especially sympathetic to those in need of the skills - since, I was them. Oh humans, we're all so unique. We come at things differently. We really need help understanding each other. I really need to lose the "safe", stupid default emotion, figure out what I really feel, and say so. We all do. We're a beautiful mess. Dig in. The payoff is worth the risk. (Or so I'm trying to convince myself...)

Truth and Mystery

I think it's crucial to understand that faith comes filled with truth and with mystery. I think that's why I can feel so very at home in two such drastically different churches. For me, it's easy - instinct - to cling to and treasure the Lutheran beliefs and traditions I grew up in. It's also incredibly comfortable for me to participate in my less conventional, mission loving, small group emphasizing, experiment encouraging current church. It's funny that this is easy for me. I'm an answers girl. I like things to be clear cut, but God has pretty clearly shown me He is not, so apparently my mind has given up on complete understanding And that leaves me to settle in to celebrating the diversity of His followers. I have a set of core beliefs that ring loud and true from childhood, but the things that are "the great questions", I don't often have a strong desire to take a side on and I don't think many of those things are so essential to understand. Against all odds, my "answers please! answers now!" personality let's it go on this front. I'm with Augustine - unity in the essentials, liberty in the non-essential, and charity in all. Charity - disagreeing in love - in the rare moments disagreement is necessary can disarm the most ardent reactions. 

Anyway, In the last week or so I've been reflecting on 2012 and there are some truly precious memories - great experiences with friends, countless blessings, but I also remember some really hard moments. Lessons learned and hurt felt. It wasn't all bad, but I'm not sad to see 2012 behind me. I remember gathering this time last year with friends and talking about what I wanted in the year to come - nothing outrageous, just sort of the reasonable, hopeful, what's next in life thoughts. And mostly, they just weren't what the year would hold at all.   (Silly me, thinking I have any control. Or that I'd be any good at making the plan if I did.). There have been some unexpected other positives, but in many ways, it felt like a treading water sort of year. I wasn't drowning and I'm stronger for it, but it sure wasn't anything I hoped for. 

As 2013 approached, I set aside a few hours to think about goals and hopes for the year. I've never been much of a resolution maker. It seems so cliche and so bound to fail. I do like the idea of goal setting though. It's just not typically a new year thing for me. In church Sunday the concept of having a theme or verse for the year came up though. I thought that was something I could maybe get on board with. Something that could serve as a lens to see the year through. And then I remembered a story from the Christmas sermon in Michigan that had been sort of replaying in my mind since I heard it. It was one of those moments where you feel like he has totally crept into your thoughts and wrote a public response. Creepy and wonderful. And I knew instantly that story held my theme and I knew instantly a verse that really needs to be perma-stamped on my heart and mind. 

Isn't it funny how my church worlds, which I love equally, but are so different I'm sometimes nervous to introduce them to one another, work together for me. That's unity and liberty in action. God is in the center of both places and he somehow - while managing all the hundreds of others milling about - notices me and tells me what I need to hear.

And that's the beauty of mystery. I have no idea how it all works. I have no idea how I'm so confident God is in both places and I need to be in both places sometimes. It's been good for me to learn to live in the tension of loving both places, being blessed by both, needing both to find myself better connected. I'm finding myself fiercely grateful for the beautiful mystery of it all. 

Hide & Seek

Lately, at work, and in life generally, I've been feeling like I'm playing hide and seek with my calling.

You see, there are things I know I want. Things I want to do. Causes and passions I'll gladly work for. Often, I've felt like I wasn't allowed. Like someone kept putting a bushel over this little light of mine - this passion, skill set, and determination. The hopes and dreams I silently and not so silently harbor. I've been deflected - doing other good, light-filled work, but it always feels like it's distinctly someone else's light I was keeping lit - not mine.

And  there are moments for that. Moments where it is absolutely God's calling to hold up someone else's arms in their calling. It's a hard path though. It's humbling and confusing to be told to wait when your heart beats for a different piece of things. It's hard to watch others do and only observe. It's hard to cheer on those who seem to be acting just as you want to act. It's hard to watch things done differently than you'd do them. It's important though.

Early this week, I felt that way still. Holding up someone's arms. Watching others do. Doing the other good, necessary things dutifully and without passion. There were moments it felt like I'd gotten just close enough to something that I knew just what needed to be done and yet, I wasn't allowed to do it. Be still my panicked heart. How it aches to see just what to do and be delayed.

Today, I realized I was getting to do some of it. In the span of a week, I'd somehow landed in the middle of things. Just where I wanted to be. And then I realized that there were quickly coming moments where I might have to fly solo. Be still my panicked heart. How it aches to hold responsibility in my hands. All is so fragile.

I feel as if I've run at marathon pace to be in this place, at these times, for quite some time. And now, as I stand face to face with it, I want to turn around and run the other way. Has running just become habit? Am I literally trying, after seeking for so long, to become one of those hiding?  As any savvy 4 year old knows, you can't change your role midway through the game. So why the instinct to hide or run?

Why? Well, you know, fear mostly. Good old fashioned haunting fear. Fear that I'll fail. Fear that I'll cause harm instead of bringing hope. Fear that I am wrong about everything. Fear that the little I know is far too little to act. Fear that failure to act ensures failure. Even a ridiculous fear of the fear itself. If I'm afraid is that a sign to pause or just fear I should push through?

I think I'm here for a reason though. I think if my heart has beat for it all for so long, I probably shouldn't ignore it and run away. So, I'm going to try and see through the fear back to the calling. I'm going to try to keep running towards what I care about instead of making a panicked about-face. There is a larger life lesson in it all, but right this minute all I can see is the many immediate, intimidating tasks. In Disney wisdom, I'll "keep moving forward". One task at a time until it feels like the most natural thing in the world to do just what my heart beats for. I think that's at least part of the point of having a beating heart isn't it?

Here goes... Lord, order my steps.

I can do anything you can do better!

I remember a middle school confidence that girls were better than boys. We could do anything better. In retrospect, we actually were a crowd of bright, sweet, fierce little girls. I actually like us even more now than I did then. God bless the adults who let us believe we were much cooler than our awkward, mouthy, middle school realities. I mean, don't get me wrong, we were plenty self conscious - me, especially. That's what you do in those years. We were just confident we were better than the boys. Also, there were more of us than the boys. It made domination seem more inevitable. Poor boys, we may have (definitely...) been obnoxious. They held their own in good will obnoxiousness though. Don't feel too bad for the boys.

This middle school confidence, I've been thinking about it lately, because over the last 6 weeks or so I've had several conversations about gender differences. Questions at events, bible studies, global protection issues. It has left my mind puzzling over things I've rarely cared much about since I got distracted from that middle school confidence in my superiority.

Gender inequity was something I read about in high school history books, but rarely gave a second thought to in my day-to-day. And then in college there were the women's studies' girls - ahem - WOMEN. They would occasionally try to tell me  that I was both superior and oppressed, which I always found just a bit counter-intuitive. Some of them were reasonable, interesting girls, but mostly they were angry and I felt more oppressed in their ranting presence than I did by the guys who mostly just rolled their eyes and let them speak their enthusiastic mind. (How oppressive...)

Since then, I've noticed the differences a bit more, but I'm not drowned in them. I've noticed that although I'm in a female dominated child welfare workforce, somehow men often find their way to leadership first. I've noticed that men doing similar work sometimes make more money. I've noticed that tasks assigned to female friends are sometimes ridiculously stereotyped and yet nobody ever carries the water tank up from the basement, hangs anything on my dang walls for me or otherwise gets me out of those tasks I'd like to stereotype off on some big, strong man. Still though, mostly what I see is not too brutal.

I don't mean to make light of the larger topic at all. I know there are sincere concerns still faced and have, very occasionally, felt like I got slighted for my gender. And my limited understanding of the extreme inequity faced around the world makes me want to wear black and go back and have those college girls teach  me their rant. All in all though, I fared just fine girling my way through life so far. I'm willing to admit that it's probably especially helpful that I'm still living this fairly selfish, single in the city, life where I'm limitedly accountable to anyone. Hard decisions may still be to come in harder places, in professions still male dominated, in times when you're blessed with balancing a relationship, and in choosing if and how children and work will both fit into life.

All that said, I think sometimes in all these women need, men are, girls have, boys want, conversations we lose the individuals, who deserve to be individuals. We forget about the increasing number of men who choose to stay home, the increasing number of women who find their vocation as leaders in major corporations. And the million little things along the way that still sort of matter in the day to day. The guys who like RomCom and the girls who hate them. The girls who love football and the guys who love musicals. Truly and obviously, the things men and women face are different. there are many generalizations to be made. When it comes right down to it though, while I don't want anyone thinking I'm a man, I also don't want them thinking I am just another girl and my sense is if we thought more about what a person wants and deserves and what wonderful things God created them to love and do we'd have to worry about all the little he/she madness a whole lot less.

Boys and girls are still not the same. (Wisdom! You're welcome...)

I'm going to try to proceed with the treat people like they are as unique as they are approach though. It makes life a million times easier than trying to figure out who is right and wrong about where we all fit in our gender roles. I'm wrong about enough other stuff. I won't set myself up to fail here. I think that is superior logic my ranting sisters would be proud of.

Merry, Happy, Cheery, Shiny!

Oh Christmas, welcome back dear friend!

And hello to you friends. Hello, hello and I'm sorry I'm the most absent blogger on the planet. The thing is, I've actually written and deleted several ridiculous things you didn't want to read. Tonight though, I'm just going to get all merry and rambly. Because. I. Can.

Today was Monday after a (great) long weekend. I was feeling just a teensy bit of angst about having to go to work. It was all ok though, because there was the Pandora Christmas station crooning wonderfulness at me. Nat King Cole, the Rat Pack, Sinatra, Mikey Bubble, Mariah, etc. all jingling and chestnut roasting and dashing through the snow and making me productive. I do believe, that every email for which I have control of the answer has been answered. (What? I'm amazing? I know, right?)

It totally helped that I got to warm up for Christmas this weekend. A friend made cookies and I decorated them in a truly unattractive way, maintaining a firm last place in the cookie decorating contest, sweet and sticky just how I like it. We also watched Elf. And it's all left me totally "I like smiling! Smiling's my favorite!"

And when I came home tonight I cooked to my ridiculous, wonderful, familiar home blend of Christmas cheer. Jars, Point of Grace, Relient K, Hansen (yeah, you heard me!), Dolly, and on and on... I cooked, and I may have danced around like an idiot. I'm not sure where my roommate is, but luckily for her, she doesn't seem to be in town to put up with my current Christmas madness.

Are you dancing around like a crazy person with your music at the loudest volume that won't irritate your neighbors? You should try it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Go!

I'm going to go. I have to go dig out that cute garland & tiny, tiny tree for my office. I want to cover everything in Christmas lights, but until I buy some the tiny, tiny tree will have to hold me over.

Have a merry, happy, cheery, shiny everything. It's the season when you can get away with it.

Words

They come wonderful and weighty. The good ones stroll past. The bad linger on. The ambiguous bounce about, rattling, clunking, unsure whether they should stroll or linger. All hold something more than the letters strung together. (But what?!?) They all float around in my mind as I overthink them and cling to them. I file them away - messy, but treasured - to clarify and confound how I use and choose my own later.

And how do I?

I like the idea of less. At work, especially, I like it. Short & sweet. True & clear. Leave ‘em wantin’ more. Soundbites are memorable. (Be so, so careful though! Qualify, never oversimplify!) 

In my personal life though, I want to ramble. (This blog must be very personal...). I want to tell those closest to me every detail. I don't want to be misinterpreted. I think if I say everything I have more control over what is heard. I don't. And the wanting to say everything sometimes leads to the failing to say anything. If you can't get in every detail, If you can't fully explain every thought, then it's probably best to just remain silent in fear of misinterpretation. Or so the overthinking silence goes... 

It's all very confusing what with the pretending not to care what you think and the really caring so much about what you hear and believe.

A little honesty: I have no idea how many should be heard at any given time. How? Which ones? How loud?

Do I leave things to the imagination to encourage curious questions to creep forward?

Or be lavish, spilling generously each juicy detail?

Should they come firmly? Sweetly? Laced with sarcasm? Playfully? Draped in eloquence?

Will you lean in if I whisper?

Does increasing the volume increase your intake, your interest?

When you interrupt me should I let them waft off to never, never land or fight to be heard?

What speaks to you  - the ever changing you – who I long to address well? I want to be better than I know how – you deserve better – all my yous do.  

Don’t misinterpret this, really, pretty please. This post is no passive aggressive reaction to anything else. I can imagine it interpreted that way. It's just the truth. It’s a constant question bouncing through my brain. I rarely have a clear idea how to let all the beloved letters unfold. 

You’ll likely get less unless you ask for more. (I almost always have more.) Unless you are amidst a select few who I trust with my crazy because they have shown themselves to have some crazy endurance (aka friendship) and then maybe you wish you got less – way, way less.

(If you made it through this blog you may have some crazy endurance potential - just sayin'.)

How many? I seem to creep towards and away from the answer a little more every day.

You are such a moving target.

Wanderlust

So, I received this sweet award, many moons ago and I've just been too distracted by life to respond to it (moving is hard!). And I'm not even going to do it right, but better late and wrong than not at all! (well, I hope anyway) I got this fun little Sunshine Award from my high school Spanish teacher. So appropriate because I have had some killer wanderlust of late and she is one of my original Wanderlust inspirations. She took me on my first international trip, to Spain (be still my heart!), and the rest is history. I'm going to do her wrong though, and not pass the Sunshine along. I don't know who to send it to. Or if they want it. Or or or... Excuses... I'm hoping she'll tolerate my very LATE response and very sincere: "Back at ya!" as a sufficient response to her lovely gesture. I do so enjoy her blog and her - she's always just back from somewhere I wish I'd been and she's so good at recounting it all to let me live her adventures vicariously. You should check her out at Provence in Ann Arbor. You should also probably make her Pomegranate Guacamole right away. I'm a fan.

My award came with an assignment. I have to answer some random questions. We all know I'm always game for random rambling. Here goes!

Favorite Color:  Green
Favorite Animal: Giraffe
  Favorite Number: 3? 7? 21? I didn't know I was supposed to have a favorite number... I sort of like made up numbers that assist me in exaggeration though. Like: "There were eleventy bazillion people there." Eleventy Bazillion is my favorite number. Glad we've settled that.
Favorite Drink: It's seasonal and mood based. Here are some favorites... Hazelnut coffee. Cranberry juice and carbonated water. Rum & Coke. Cider. Iced vanilla coffee. Chocolate almond milk.  Orange juice - with normal pulp (why are there suddenly so many pulp options? Just give me some normal oj!)
Facebook or Twitter:  Facebook, clearly I can't fit my crazy into Twitter sized sound bites.
Your Passion: Brighter futures for children, ending the use of the phrase "a whole nother", and teaching people to "use their words" (aka mediation - I'll get back to you someday you handy, amazing methodology...)
Giving or Getting Presents: Giving! I know I can't say getting because I'd be a jerk, but I do prefer giving -really, really! So fun to find just the thing or find quirky ways to add meaning to something simple. I prefer getting cards though. I'll confess to that. (although I do like to send them too!). Write me a handwritten note and I'll get totally warm & fuzzy. Let it arrive in my actual mailbox and I'll probably be your best friend forever.

Now that we've sunshined, can we talk about my life for just a minute? I'm surrounded by stories of travel. Coworkers on vacation. Friends on mission trips and international work trips. Family, friends, church, work worlds. It seems everyone is headed off somewhere. Some of them are thrilled. Some of them are apathetic. Some don't want to go at all (I have no grid for this...). 

I am not apathetic with regard to the journeys of what seems to be nearly everyone around me. I'm not apathetic at all - that would be far more mature behavior. 

 I'm jealous. 

 I feel like I've been grounded. Like, literally forced to stay right here on the ground and out of my beloved airplanes. Forced to stay put and listen to other people tell me stories about their trips to islands and beaches and foreign lands and returns to familiar, cozy places. I'm just drowning in their plans and their pictures and their memories and their souvenirs. I'm smiling. I'm nodding. I'm polite.

In the dark, honest places inside of my head, I'm fiercely JEALOUS. 

Don't get me wrong. I need to hear about their trips. I want to. It's like a mini-fix that gets me through. Living vicariously until I make it to my next real fix. (oh and you're in my life and I like you and I want to know about yours!)

Inside of my head though, I'm becoming less gracious with my vicarious mini-fixes. I'm becoming whiny. Like a real drug addict, the little fix quickly becomes not enough...
I wanna go! (Stomp foot. Pout in corner.)

I want to be in a place in life where I have the time and money to pick up and go. I want my favorite people to come with me. 

Screw responsibility. 

I'm so over it. Eww. Been there, done that. I want to be the wandering free spirit who doesn't pay her student loans one month and uses up all her vacation hours and darts off to watch the sun rise in Guell Park (It is on the very short list of things I'll get up early for!).

Ok, reality check. I KNOW that I just got to go to Michigan AND Washington at the beginning of the summer for 2 of my nearest and dearest's weddings. I wouldn't trade those trips for the world. I'm aware that I'm very lucky and it hasn't been that long. It's just that travel makes me a better person and the summer has felt so long and tedious.

If I could just go I promise I'd come back far more kind and wise and willing to...almost anything. God designed travel as my personal mood stabilizer and I just don't think I've found the place in life where I get to properly apply it yet. If I don't get to run away soon, I just might have to resort to real mood stabilizers.

Ok, but all this reminds me, I better order a new passport. I lost mine in Washington. Perhaps that can be my first step towards the next big thing... My next mini-fix. I might be just a little afraid that I will run away if I have one again. I'm never that girl who irresponsibly chases a whim. This is the summer I feel like I could become that girl though...

I probably won't. I'll plan responsibly. I'll save. Find a bargain. Put it on my work calendar weeks in advance with permission. Oh but please, let it be Spain! In the next year! I can't let 10 years go by without getting back. 

Ok, bedtime! 

May our dreams be Barcelona filled.  

Spazzy until Wednesday

Where did July go?

How did a whole month whir by and seem so long and so fast all at once? 

It's been eventful and dull. I've been delighted and distraught. I feel like I've been living in extremes. 

I have become a girl who cries in the last couple years. I was just never that girl... And I'm SO that girl now. Sometimes because of something important and heartbreaking - and that comes too often... Also though, because of something just a little warm and fuzzy. Like a good-bye lunch for our interns. They're great, but they're not even leaving for a week or so... Also because of something even just a little sad and definitely anything dealing in actual sadness. I mean, well, good night... 

I've also become a girl who occasionally wants a hug and dances. That's a sort of new girl too. 

I remember thinking of people as sort of "spazzy" in the past. When they appeared to be living in mood extremes. I remember wondering why they were so distracted and unpredictable and wishing they'd mellow out. 

God thinks he's funny. 

July taught me a little more about spazzy. I got an insider's perspective on strong emotions, hard moments, and hard earned joy. None of that was entirely new, but it all phased through in ways that felt fresh.

Ok then, I'm laughing too. I see Your point. I'm taken care of and should probably just calm down. A lot. 

Still though, in the midst of all the searching for a place to live, making a lot of popcicles, packing, working, crying, dancing, praying through the night, absorbing hard news, musicals in my backyard, and feeling left behind, moments in July, I have found myself most often just tired. 

I'm usually a girl that finds a way to fill the days and live. In July I was a girl that hid -- in shutting down and hiding from the junk and in missing the joy sort of ways. 

That seems a funny way to be in July especially. Summer, in my mind, should be full of frolicking. Kites and wildflowers and beaches and bubbles and spinning until you collapse in extra green grass. Should I be this tired when the sun shines so much? Isn't all that vitamin D supposed to be good for me? Maybe I'm a vampire... Life just refuses to let me live at night as a vampire ought. Silly societal norms and professional hours and dearly loved daytime dwellers. The sacrifices I make for all of you... 

I'm hoping spazzy is an exercise that I can leave behind with July. I'll settle in to being a girl who cries and dances and feels and hopes in new ways and I will not panic in reaction to life happening around me. I'm not going to invite spazzy over, but I won't file an eviction notice these last few days of July - I'm moving this weekend. Giving up spazzy now seems especially daunting. And heck, spazzy taught me some things I needed to learn. I'm going to see what I can do about leaving it to others, but I'm going to try to embrace what was learned instead of spazzing spazzy away.  

On Wednesday though, August is here and I'm taking back control! (HA! As if I was ever in control...)

Mumbly

Yesterday, this blog was 1 year old.

I made red wine fudgesicles in its honor. (Also for the two upcoming summer-y events, but whatever. Don't make the blog feel bad - I ate one yesterday in it's honor.)

Also, I sang Happy Birthday to Mumbly. (my blog's nickname - ok, I just made that up now, but it sort of cracks me up. So it's going to stick. I love to name inanimate things. Recently I named a tree Slim Shady and my cell phone's name is Ann Droid. Also, I like tangents. If you've been here before that's not news though...) I didn't actually get to blogging Happy Birthday on the day though. Life is so distracting sometimes. Sorry Mumbly.

Anyway, a year of blogging makes me think about words. I love words - and that is basically why Mumbly exists.

Words have power. The words we say. The praise we lavish or withhold. The advice and direction we give. The criticism and less than kind words that slip out. Our gushing and our whining and our storytelling. And the things we don't say. Our attitude, our tone, our vocabulary, our grammar (you heard me people!) all of it has meaning.

Thanks for reading. I'm not sure why you're putting up with my attitude, tone, or grammar, but I'm glad you're here.

That's another thing about words. We all want ours to be heard.

Sometimes I like to pretend words don't matter. I like to play it cool. To pretend that I haven't been sliced to the core by a string of little, not-so-harmless, words. I totally do this - but I really, really don't believe it...

They matter.


And they linger. 


I don't know how to string mine together just right sometimes. Let's be honest, most of the time...

For example, I'm just not much of a praise gusher. And, to be honest, I find it rather suspicious at times. I'm an actions speak louder than words sort of girl. There are people in my life who pour on a lot of gushing praise, but fail a little too often in the follow through. I suppose that has made me a little jaded and ungushing. I'm going to work on figuring out how to make the words and the actions and my sentiment all line up a little more. Praise and beyond...

Words aren't the whole package - but they certainly matter.

So, I'm going to keep working on stringing them together more... right. {?} That's probably a piece of why Mumbly and I are here. I set out here because I sincerely like to share. I'm learning more and more that there's room for improvement though. And this is a great place to practice getting it right. Sorry for the blunders you have and no doubt will continue to encounter. I'll keep trying to get the words to line up with the sentiment and action.

Thanks for listening. You're a very good listener.  

Blogging by Day

Yesterday, I did something weird.

I wrote a blog during the daytime hours.

I felt like I might get in trouble for blogging at work. It does limit me slightly - like, I don't get to use made up words or rant endlessly about hating morning. That might actually be good for me...

Really though, blogging is a totally fun work task to have.

If you want to, you can read about my other life where I hold myself out as a quasi-responsible adult type who does work and uses real words here:
National Council For Adoption: An Invitation to the Capitol

If you're feeling especially nice, comment or subscribe to the blog. It will make our Director of Communications smile. You know it's fun to make people smile...

If you want to make me smile, call your Members of Congress and tell them why you love the Protecting Adoption and Promoting Responsible Fatherhood Act of 2012.

Yikes-A-Bee

Remember yesterday how much fun I was going to have this summer? I'm still doing that! Some of it, it seems I have to do more quickly than other parts though.

It seems I better get on that movie projecting posthaste. It seems life is out to crash my party a little. Stupid life. You can't steal my party - literally. I'm doing it anyway.

So, I found out this morning I have to move. I have to say, I'm a little heartbroken. My lease is expiring and my landlord is not renewing so that they can renovate.

Objectively, I understand this. My little house is full of character. The charming sweet kind and the "a little rough around the edges" kind... They could certainly charge far more if they put a bit of love into it.

I'm not currently a fan of this objective part of me though. I'm crabby. I don't want to be reasonable and understanding. I'm pouting and you can't stop me. I like it here. I felt settled. I decorated. I'm cozy. I have memories here and now I must abandon them.

Yikes-A-Bee! Frickety Frack! Alas and alack. Boo.
(These words want to be swear words when they grow up, but I'm pretty sure they'll be bullied and never make it. I'm always for the underdogs though - even the words... The "real" curses seem somewhat lacking in creativity and vocabulary. What's the fun in that?)

So, I suppose I should stop whining and be proactive now. Spend some time on craigslist now - the source of all cheap housing... And the message boards and and and... All those places I tell interns and friends of friends who are moving to DC. If you have any leads on good deals, good roommates, near Old Town preferred, please shout it out. Maybe something better is coming my way?

I suppose I should start putting things in boxes soon too. I hate to pack.

Sigh. Shmerg.

Wisdom Begins With Wonder

This summer, I'm going to be fun. I'm going to drag myself out of bed on weekends and explore the world. In my dining room there is a canvas with an awesome green tree that says: "Wisdom begins with wonder." love that. I need it. I could use some more wonder. I'm going to do new things and repeat old favorite happy summer things. Learn new things. Make new friends and spend time with old ones. Make memories. Be occasionally, appropriately childish.

I'm not going to hibernate. My mood lately defaults to hibernate. And it doesn't help that DC is a terrible, wonderful place to spend the summer. Why didn't our forefathers have the insight not to build the nation's capital in a humid swampland? Didn't they know about the misery of wearing business attire in a swamp?

Still though, there are a million fun things to do here and near. I'm going to do them ALL. Ok, fine that's crazy talk. I'm going to do some of them though. I'm going to pry myself away from my friend the box fan and his favorite Uncle AC and live life in places where sun shines and sweaty humanity smiles at each other and lives and learns and wonders (and tries not to stick to one another.)

I picknicked today. And last weekend. And hopefully again. Maybe at Roosevelt Island? I haven't been back since a visit shortly before I moved here. Crazy...

Host a movie night - projected in my backyard. Complete with home popped popcorn and really cold drinks... Exciting new development: my neighbors (whose wall I project on) painted their house. This is excellent. You can't project on red brick, but you can project on putty colored brick. No convincing a stand to stay up in wood chips. No trying desperately with considerable tape to make a sheet stay up. I love my new neighbors! Additionally, they're totally friendly and have already spoken to me FAR more than the others did in a full 2 years. I should totally invite them over to watch a movie on their wall. It only seems fair...

Camping. For real. In a tent. I just need a tent. Anybody have a tent I can borrow? I think I want my own tent actually... Where am I going to keep a tent? Hmm. There's just a little more space under my bed... Also I  need mosquito spray. This is possibly more important than the tent...

Fire. And food on a stick in the fire. Hot dogs. Marshmallows lit on fire and blown out black? Yes. (I have zero patience.)

Agua fresca. Watermelon? Canteloupe? Strawberry? Yes and yes and yes. I tried this last summer and it should be a tradition. Yay. 

Not get a(nother) ridiculous sunburn I always do this. I don't burn that quickly. I almost always bring sunscreen. I almost never put it on. Dumb. I'm grown. I need to grow on out of this stupidity.

Roll down a real hill. I warmed up on a mound last weekend apparently. I'll have to get the hill police to approve a real hill for me it seems...

Beach! Virginia Beach? Delaware? Somewhere... Walking. Napping. Reading. Maybe sand castle building? 

Take a top down, hair in the wind, music far too loud, roadtrip.

Write my name in sparklers.

Homemade popsicles. Someone told me about red wine and chocolate popsicles recently. Fruitiness will also definitely happen. I think red wine & chocolate must also be tested though...

Stroll through some pleasantly chilly, not yet visited museum on a hot, humid DC afternoon. I should probably save this for August. I feel like I'll have plenty of days to choose from though. It was already 105 one day this week. Help!

Fly a kite. Blow bubbles. Throw water balloons. Do cartwheels (is this even still possible?). Spin around in circles until the world spins. Play. Summer is the most appropriate time to reclaim a little childhood.

Ok, that's a reasonable start to the list. I don't want to get out of control. Better to overachieve than fail when it comes to fun.

Bring on the wonder.

Noncommital June No More!!!

I'm sort of annoyed with me lately.

I feel like usually, I'm a work hard, play hard kind of girl.

Lately, I've been a tired at work, won't commit to play kind of girl. My friends are all: "hang out with me". I'm all: "we'll see..." I hate that. It has gone so far though, that a friend and I decided that noncommital was my theme for June.

Whoa. Too. Far.

I've been busy some, but that's not everything. I have been travelling for awesome weddings! And we had our conference at work last week. I have a love/hate relationship with conference. No, now wait. Not hate. That analogy takes things too far. Maybe I actually have a love/exhaustion relationship with conference. I love the people. Love the learning. Love the making connections between people who can be more awesome together. Love all the stuff that works together to find families for children. But I most definitely get for really real tired from all that loving action.

Wait. I have totally derailed from the point of this post. What? I'm rambling? Nobody is shocked? Yeah, me either. Eek. Back on task! Here we go...

The weddings and conference and travelling were legitimate busy causing, distance from normal life creating, distractions, but some of this might just be my own slacky, slacker fault. If I could just get on my game at work I'd KNOW when I would have free time because I could count on myself to finish things and get on with my life. I don't though. I'm so tired I don't trust myself and I won't commit to doing the things that are refreshing and don't exhaust me. This is a bad cycle of unrefreshing. Boo.

I don't have any of those good excuses like spouse, children, recent life trauma, natural disaster. I am only responsible for me in a normal state of being. I should be better at it.

I'm going to be! Sunday I had semi-spontaneous fun lunch with friends. THAT is going to be the pattern breaker. So. There. Pattern broken. HA! It is summer and I am going to be outside and with fun people and doing the 80 trillion fun things DC offers.

Bring on the summer fun. I have all these things I want to do this summer... Summer bucket list! Hmm. I should publish that list. Fun accountability! Totally. Summer Bucket list post coming SOON. Do you have any awesome summer fun suggestions? Put 'em in the comments!

She felt safe...

I got to go to another wedding this weekend and it was awesome again. And it was - against all odds - for another of my favorite people. Two weeks in a row. My life might be more fun than yours. I'm sorry.

. 

It was amazing in completely different and equally freakin' awesome ways than the previous week's events.

The bride was my law school roommate - she put up with me for three intense years and in all our up close and personal she remains one of my all-time favorite people. She makes me laugh harder than almost anyone and 5 years after law school we find ourselves on opposite coasts, but I feel as close to her as ever and she still knows more of my secrets than just about anyone and is a rare safe place that hears what I say and hears as much in what is left unsaid. She always responds with love and wise counsel and understanding and without a glimmer of judgment. In review, I'm rather fiercely attached to this girl.

So, I was fiercely grateful with how generous she was with her time while I was there during what was - obviously - the very busy week of her wedding. I got to do all the amazing wedding events - and I'll get to that, but I also got to tag along on errands, meet the major characters in years of her stories, eat her favorite pizza, see a glimpse of where she grew up, and stay up talking too late and being roommates with my girl one last time before she belongs to some strange man. What a gift to me in a week where she ought to have been entirely on the receiving end.

About the strange man... I'm a fan. I'll admit I was worried - I'd never met the strange man. I trust this girl more than just about anyone and she doesn't make major life decisions lightly. So, when she told me she was engaged I was initially a little surprised, but not too concerned. Still though, just in case, I had to worry. It's what I do. What if I didn't like him? I might have needed to punch him in the face a lot of times or kidnap her. And I hate it when I have to break laws on vacation (and I was too sore from the bachelorette party to make any swift violent actions or quick getaways, but that's all you need to know about that...). Luckily, I think my brief moments with the strange man showed him strangely perfect. I watched him watch her across the room and it was precious. He treasured her and she deeply deserves it. He knew her well enough to tease her extremes into balance kindly and he makes her laugh. More importantly, I watched her look comfortable and feel safe when he was near and I decided I wouldn't commit any crimes at all. (It seemed easier not to fight in heels anyway.) I'd just  cheer him on because that much care should only be celebrated and if I could see it so quickly, then he just might deserve her. I'll just have to dedicate the coming years to getting to know him more because he has become a part of her forever (and, accordingly, mine).

The wedding was perfection. It was completely them. I could see the ways they'd taken careful efforts to honor and include their families and loved ones in things. A judge they both know well performed the ceremony. They threw a great party, not to throw the best party, but so all their loved ones left smiling. They took care of everyone right down to the details of having crayons and toys for the kids. Dinner was from one of their favorite restaurants and a local bakery made the (amazing!) cake. Predictably, the bride tried to serve the cake herself. Dear servant heart: please just this once be served! We talked her out of it - eventually... None of us said it that nicely - well, not me anyway... I swear it's just what I meant though! The bride even made breakfast in advance on Friday afternoon so they could enjoy a last meal with loved ones on Sunday before everyone left town. Their love (living Romans 12 style love) for each other and everyone present was evident everywhere.

Of course it was. That's just so you friend.

As we said good-bye on Sunday, she thanked me for coming - which sort of cracked me up. I mean, where else could I possibly have been while she got married? I told her I would have crashed her wedding without an invitation. I think I meant it. (I totally meant it.) How could I do anything but celebrate with this girl? Lucky for me I got an invitation. And my heart is still very much celebrating for you dear one. Even if you are kind of - well, as your former self would have said "pukey." 

It all made me think something I almost never think at weddings: "If I do this someday, I'd like it to be very much like this in many ways." Weird right? I'm so never that girl. In fact, in law school, the bride and another roommate planned a wedding for me. I think they'd given up hope on my taking part in this girly dreaming task on my own behalf... (For the record, they did a good job. I have held onto pieces of that plan. They knew me pretty well.) I blame my recent girliness on all the dressing up -the red heels and dresses and that especially wonderful girly necklace I've become weirdly attached to. It went to my head. I'm back in flats now, so it probably won't last. Still, in the midst of my happily independent singleness, the idea of partnering for life with someone that makes you laugh and feel safe is not without its merits. Not this week, but maybe someday. If I'm not busy... 

Just Push Play

Do you ever want to press pause? Just stop life just where it is so you can hold on just a little tighter and take in a seemingly perfect instant more completely? And do you ever want to fast forward through a whole season of overwhelmed life?

 

I'm feeling stuck between these places lately. I feel like I've been in a season I'd much rather have skipped for a while now. I'm trying to recognize the moments worth pausing for in the midst of this season that I like to call - well, nevermind...

I'm trying to "keep moving forward" (Ahh, Disney brilliance!) through the tricky and treasure the delights as they spin past.

 

That's right. I'm trying - and I'm failing all the time. It's a goal though. That's something right? 
Step 1: Make a goal.
Step 2: Fail a lot of times.
Step 3: Decrease number of failures.
Repeat 1-3 until dead. (Sigh.)

This past week, I was lucky (blessed, spoiled, overjoyed!) to have been included in the bridal party of a friend I can hardly remember not knowing and I intend to keep forever. We have plans for a nursing home in common. I plan to hold her to that as well as many years of antics between now and then. This weekend, she made it permanent with someone I'm glad to add to the list of people I'll keep forever. I can't imagine how I could be happier for them both. I'm doing that weird thing where I smile at my laptop just thinking about it all. So, all this to say it was a week that left me with many extra pause-worthy moments.

• Catching up with old friends 
• New friendships that came easily because they were friend pre-tested
• Excessive girliness - fancy shoes, pretty nails, flowers, amazing new jewelry, and our hair will never look that good again (out of my norm and fully, gladly embraced)
• Too much fun followed by too much laughing followed by too much talking and too little sleeping. All perfectly recovered from with advil, coffee, and magic donuts
• Blinking away tears as I watched ridiculously happy unfold (Ok, fine! I cry at weddings - especially when they are my favorite people. I cry all the time! There. I'm owning it. Don't repeat it. I'll find you and you'll pay!)
• Photo poses that will make us laugh forever
• Dancing terribly, terribly happily 

And it brought me home for other sweet moments

• Hazelnut coffee from the favorite cup that waits hiding for me on a top shelf
• Playing grocery store with a friend's little one
• No cell service (blessing? curse? both!)
• Setting up "office" at Panera bread again - home away from internet-free-home
• Saying the Lord's Prayer in its proper rhythm (it somehow feels a little more complete in the cadence you first learned it in)
• Familiar worship songs from familiar voices
• And what's not to love about a rainy roadtrip with blasting new music?

If I could just remember that the pause-worthy moments make the fast-forward-preferred moments worth surviving.  The contrast is starker, stronger, sweeter if you survive without fast-forwarding and the pause is short.

So, I guess, just push play. It makes sense. If I can convince myself of that I could, perhaps, have a little more Step 3...