(this)

Why can't I write?  I wonder tonight while I run, cicadas threatening to drown my soundtrack, sunlight fading, running, not because I love to run, but because my sisters run and because I'll never be thin and because I love food and because running is supposed to negate everything I ate last weekend.

 

Why is pain seemingly easier to write about than happy days and good stuff?

 

I could write books on grief and loss and pain and loneliness but my husband took me to Jamaica for a week in November and I don't know how to write about that.  Is it because it's all too beautiful and fragile, these days, months, now years of joy creeping through?  We leave the kids with their grandparents and drive to O'Hare, pinching ourselves like two little kids, buying mismatched clearanced swimsuits because it's winter in Chicago and I hadn't thought about that; chocolate and granola bars and Nike sun visors at Target and carefully laying out our super crisp passports (we are green to world travel) and asking the hotel desk for a three am wake up call.

 

We fly to Montego Bay groggy and hungry and disoriented and squinting in the blinding sunlight and then a sweltering bus trip and free-flowing alcohol and winding streets and smells and the ragged beggars and haunting faces out of broken hut windows and I wonder why us, why here? We don't belong here, tourists, vacationing Americans, I don't deserve this, I could never have dreamed of this back when we had nothing but each other and nothing to our names but hard work and delivering papers and furniture and babysitting and stretching ends to meet each other. This is too good to be true. 

 

Cool tile and palms and pools and the ocean right there and hours on the sand with books;  at the pool bar we order everything under the sun sans alcohol and the salt cracks my lips; we eat jerk chicken on the beach with our fingers; fresh coconut milk, which tastes exactly like soap, cracked open with a knife right in front of us, and we drink it for the experience.  We promise to watch the sun rise and never do, exhausted and spent from our demanding life, we sleep in like kids on summer break.  Lying in bed one night watching TV, I hear Sara Bareilles' Brave on a HP commercial and wonder why I've never noticed it before:

 

Maybe there's a way out of the cage you live

Maybe one of these days you can let the light in

Show me how big your brave is

 

And it's easy to let the light in here, on an island, with chocolate croissants for breakfast and music late into the night, but sometimes it's scary to let the light in at home, back in my little hometown with so much responsibility and our uneasy truce on whether or not to move and my entrepreneur husband's goals that seem to take him further out of my life. 

 

I want to be brave and sometimes brave is being happy.  Sometimes brave is letting go of the grief.  Sometimes it's closing a chapter and moving on.

 

And maybe fear would have been saying no to this beautiful week, choosing to stay in the mundane, choosing to close the door to adventure and choosing to play it safe and secure and so much less extravagance.

 

We rent a sailboat and go out in the bay and then to the ocean and watch another boat capsize;  I'm terrified and lose a twenty dollar bill out of my pocket in the wind and Daniel laughs harder than I've heard in a long time. We can see clear to the bottom, light all the way down to the sand, but we can't find my lost twenty and it doesn't matter anyway because money can't buy happiness, only a little freedom, and money can't prevent heartache, only pay for the aftermath, and we know all of this from painful experience. 

 

I've held a $127 masculine wedding band in my hand and said I will and I do,

 

and I've held a tinny (and tiny) navy blue cell phone and begged my girlfriend Allison to come visit me in this town where I'm so lonely and know no one,

 

and I've held a pregnancy test with two lines through it far before I thought I was ready to be a mama.

 

I've held nothing, I've held loneliness, I've held invitations, tentative friendships, I've held shingles and helped my husband roof our first little house, I've held my first child and felt my heart burst wide open with love.

 

I've held toddler hands and preschool pencils and a little sister's wedding invitations and one morning my little son who wasn't alive anymore and then I held loss in my hands.

 

I held kleenex and my sobbing mouth and dirt on a grave and cold winter snow; held on too tight and let go of some things I shouldn't have and held my husband as he drifted away from me; in humiliation held the edge of a counselor's couch and in shame I've held letters written with my own hands, wishing I could have taken back bitter, angry words, hurting the broken man I loved. 

 

I held grief and years of darkness and then another tiny son and I held him and terror, too, watching him creep toward the one hundred twenty-eight day mark.

 

And I wrote, wrote, wrote about all of this.  What do you have in your hand? God asks.

 

This, God.

 

This sorrow.  That's all. 

 

Tears are healing and life can be wildly healing and our people breathed grace into our broken hearts and then one day my hands held hope.

 

I held another shocked grieving mother, crushed her to me and stroked her matted hair and rocked her on my shoulder and looked into her swollen eyes and met the grief and I held little black babies all the way in Africa who were alive, but without love, and I learned about this, too, a different kind of loss, and maybe my grief tunnel had gotten a bit narrow and maybe I wasn't the only one suffering.

 

I held soccer schedules and then school books and choir programs and so much work;  Jamaica and rest and joy and somehow the iCloud loses all of my photos but it happened and I hold it in my heart:   this, sun and salt and water and joy and ten years with someone who loves me all the way to my soul.

 

And then I held my coffee cup in a restaurant and watched my husband buy a business;  held a pen and signed under his name, too, in shaky handwriting, and I held packing tape and moved to a dream house, brick, and front porch and on the same street as my beloved library, held my breath and said goodbye to that little bedroom where my son had breathed his last, held a cloth and wept as I wiped off the chalkboard wall:

 

love will hold us together

make us a shelter to weather the storm

 

Somehow the storm seems weathered and I don't know how to document this, the joy.  I feel so undeserving.  I remember being the sleepless insomniac, reading grief blogs, resenting and almost hating the ones who were happy again.  How could they forget the pain?

 

But now I know you don't ever forget the pain; your heart just opens up wider to hold everything- loss, joy, pain, happiness again- and this, this is a gift.

 

Lewis writes, "Aim at Heaven and you will get earth thrown in; aim at earth and you will get neither."  Earth is thrown in  now for me, and peace and happiness are fragile, unexpected gifts.

 

 

What is that in your hand?

Exodus 4:2

 

 

This is in my hand, now, God - joy, and thankfulness and I will thank You and and let the light in again.

when you don't have 52 date night ideas, steal some moments

I roll my eyes at the date night idea lists.

They're often so unrealistic. 

The lists don't factor in paying a sitter, drive time if you live in po-dunk-ville, your husband's crazy work schedule or any form of reason or sanity.

Do people really have free weekends out there in the big universe?  Free weeknights?  (Maybe my world is really on an alternate planet.)

And besides sometimes they're dumb.  For example, maybe your husband isn't jazzed by free massages at the massage school that you thought was a fantastic date night idea.  Don't ask me how I know this. 

Lately my circles have been talking about who the priority is supposed to be, husband vs. kids; it's an interesting discussion.  We were lucky enough to be counseled from the very beginning that our unit of marriage, one man and one woman, was complete in God's eyes, and therefore a very sacred priority.  Children are a blessing to marriage - they aren't intrinsically part of it. 

So I guess this is something I've always thought was really important. 

I married him.

I said no to a lot of things to spend my life with him.

I like to be with him- especially while our kids are little.  Time with Daniel charges me up to deal with everybody else.

While men aren't always super great at planning things, they are generally enthusiastic about hanging out with their wives.  I've found it doesn't hurt to plan things myself: silently holding out for the perfect date night invite might leave me without a date. . . . for a very long time.  Hey. . . you married a man, right?

When an educated culture routinely denigrates masculinity and manhood,

then women will be perpetually stuck with boys.

Camille Paglia, Time, 2013: The Year Men Became Obsolete? 

I didn't marry a boy, that's for sure.



It's hard to think of when pouring into your marriage is a waste of time.  I've never regretted it.

I've regretted:

not answering my phone when he calls

angry words

shutting him out

being too busy for him

surfing the 'net

allowing my kids to drain the life out of me

choosing my husband to be the place to unload all of my frustration 

But I haven't regretted choosing to carve out time for our marriage.

Here are some of my favorite dates over the past year: 

There are a million excuses why you can't pour into your marriage:

broken trust, broken heart, anger, betrayal, grief, depression, pregnancy, jobs, job stress, kids, finances, other commitments, other ministries, good busy, bad busy, teaching, he's an early bird / you're a night owl and the list goes on. . .and on and on and on. . .

Don't cling to the excuses.  Cling to the person God gave you and hang on. 


Valentine's Day.  Daniel's shift usually discusses what they are going to do for their significant others and during the brainstorm session {ladies: men truly try.  they really do.} Daniel came up with the brilliant idea of cooking dinner for me. Oh my word.  So special.  He put the kids to bed at seven and told me I couldn't come downstairs until eight.  When I did I really couldn't believe my eyes.  

table set, goblets, candles

fresh fruit chocolate bar

stuffed zucchini boats

with sausage and red bell peppers and muenster cheese (almost a year later and I still can't believe my husband went to a grocery store and bought muenster cheese)

ahhh so special and I felt so loved. 

Not so brilliant was the idea of letting a bunch of prank-crazy buddies know what his plan was: lots and lots of phone calls during our dinner hour and even a mysteriously anonymous honking drive-by.


Not exciting, not fun, but needed:  having older, wiser people sit and help us sort stuff out when we can't trace the end of a problem from the beginning.  So much wisdom.  So much value.  Hardly considered a date- but definitely pouring into our marriage. 

Is it a date to go on a mission trip for two weeks with your husband and not even sleep in the same room?  Umm, probably not, but one of the best things we did for our marriage in the history of us.  I cringe to think that I almost didn't go because of our kids.  They were fine.  They barely remember.  But we remember that shared life experience, shared horror at extreme poverty, shared tears, shared frustration at our own complacence.  We remember.  It was us.  Priceless. 

Sitting on the porch swing watching a thunderstorm, toes on the concrete porch, together for five minutes.  Yes.  It matters.  The bookwork, the phonecalls, the stress, the planning - it can wait for five minutes.

Bank Meetings.  Closings.  I am sorry to report that some of the most fun, happiest, most peaceful moments of our summer were spent at a long table overlooking the river waiting for our attorney.  That feeling of it's you and me against the world, baby! And we are so, so, so crazy. (And probably stupid.) But it was us. It wasn't my husband off doing his thing.  We're in this* together. 
*This refers to working every spare minute between May and October to make those bank meeting / house closing decisions be wise and not stupid. 

Midnight swim in the pool MINUS snorkels, floaties, screaming, dive sticks, donuts, all manner of  squirt gun apparatus, kick boards and swim diapers.  It's awesome.  I highly recommend. 

Taco + Phone Lunch Date.  I look back at this one and wish I wouldn't have been frustrated.  Daniel's mom had taken the kids and we were feverishly working through hot summer days and nights trying to meet deadlines for a house.  We took a break and met at Taco John's for lunch, both dirty and tired.  Daniel's phone rings constantly and sometimes he can turn it off, other times, he just can't.  That was a lunch where I looked out the window while I ate.  Retrospect: special.  We were able to work together, I got to see his world, I should have realized how much pressure and stress he was managing and congratulated him on how well he was spinning all of his plates.  Actual: not special, I felt frustrated. I can't undo that date, but I can hopefully choose a different attitude next time it happens. (And it probably will.)


Working the Boot Drive together. This is an annual event that firefighters participate in to raise money for kids with MD.  It involves standing in traffic with fire boots and yes, I suppose, begging.  You meet a lot of crazy generous people and a lot of really grumpy ones but it's a great experience.  Once again, I think it's so easy to opt out of these things using kids as an excuse, but again, they're so fine.  They chalked on the driveway with their beloved Jess and I spent an hour in my husband's world.  We're all better for that morning (except maybe Jess).

Bought black patent leather heels. That purchase practically counts as a date because it was a decision to say goodbye boring, hello LBD, and you still matter to me babe.

Visiting Daniel at MFD one night without the kids.  Make-up, hoop earrings, we sit outside on a concrete patio, treat it like speed dating. Fifteen minutes.  Worth it.  All the other nameless, pointless things that we could have done that night-  watching the news or an email that could wait or loading the eternal dishwasher?  Yuck, at nine pm?

Stopping each other to listen to a song that moves us.

Texts.

Phone calls.

It matters.  It's little.  It's actually big.  They add up.  All those stolen moments. . . they add up to life.

We're building this home, this life, this marriage, with our words, with our actions, with our moments and how we spend our time.

The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.  Proverbs 14:1 

Ahh, I want to be a wise woman.

This year I'm going to keep stealing moments.

ten years together and this was our first time christmas shopping together!  stolen. sweet.

(the vision weekend)

These are things I heard my husband say this summer:

I want to go see Mark in Haiti this winter.  (best man in our wedding, Mark and Daniel have been friends for. . .ever)

Hey there's a FEMA class I wanna take.  It's like a week long.  (was it in Arizona? Louisiana? don't remember- it wasn't close, that's for sure.)

I think we should go see Jake and Loren, that would be really fun. (Hello, New Jersey)

Since this is our ten year, we oughtta book a week on a deserted island. (um, sign me up!)

among other items.

Daniel consistently logs 90+ hour work weeks and adding travel to that schedule just sounded insane to me.  I could feel my little security/pressure gauge rising as I logged in my head the logistics of these super great travel ideas that would leave me a) alone or b) snowed under in packing and unpacking alone.

I suggested said that we needed to sit down with a calendar and log this out so that all of these trips didn't end up back to back with all of us going crazy. 

Out of very short sighted and selfish reasons, one of our greatest lightbulb moments as a couple happened:

the vision weekend.

We were already planning to go away for a Thursday/Friday night in August to see Tim Hawkins with my fam so we just tacked on an extra night to our hotel stay intending to do some planning and scheduling together.

As we went through small group studies this summer we were challenged to strengthen our family and purposefully use and enjoy the gifts God has given us. We were given a lot to think about and bring to the planning table: beyond the calendar, what does God want us to do? 

Over dessert in our living room with Adam and Nicole one night, we shared our plan of going away to plan.

"That's cool," Adam said.  "Someone told me once that you shouldn't plan your next year, rather write down how you want the end of your life to look and then plan backwards from there. . . like, if I want  ____________ to be in place when I'm 90, what do I need to be doing at age 50, age 40, age 30 to make ____________ happen?"

We looked at each other; I saw the little glint in my uber-organized husband's eyes and I knew that we would be writing out end of life plans on our trip.

As our church has gone through a lot of change this summer, the leadership has been using a Strengths/Weaknesses/Opportunities/Threats (SWOT) model for charting out things we need to improve and work on.  Each member has had a chance to contribute to this list.  It's been an incredibly positive and energizing formula and we decided to let our kids do it for our family.

About a week before we went on the vision weekend I sat down with the kids and gave them a chance to voice our own strengths and weaknesses.  They talked, I wrote.  It was good.  It was enlightening.  I wrote as fast as I could and filed the results to talk about with Daniel.



Our long awaited calender --> vision --> priority evaluation weekend arrived and we started off early and motivated, not deterred by our first Hotwire bomb hotel choice (let's just say it was heavy on the maroon carpet)

We found this awesome little corner, maroon carpet aside, to spread our stuff out.

We started with these questions:

What motivates people?

What motivates us?

What are our dreams?

We wrote and dreamed and planned for hours.  It was good. We looked at our children's concerns (we don't want to see you argue) and what they loved (family mealtimes). We looked at our own dreams.  It was exhilarating to find how much God has taught us and how closely our dreams are aligned. 

I think in marriage, men and women fear sitting down and actually talking about their dreams because they might find out that he wants to go to the moon and she wants to never ever move.  You know, if we talk about our dreams, they might drive us apart. 

But not talking about them isn't the answer either:  the underlying tension of not being united causes a different set of problems. 

At the end of the trip we had scribbled through many legal pad pages, prayed together and separately, sought God's leading and His desires, listened to music that was currently impacting each of us, written desires for when we're old and gray, roughly planned out goals for our family over the next 5-10 years and written a family mission statement.

Really writing a mission statement was probably the most fun and we both felt dumb for not doing it sooner.  We had one for our business before it ever really started.  Churches have them. Anyone wanting to succeed at what they are doing has to filter a lot through the sieve of does this fit in the grand scheme of what we're about?

And what do families have?

Well. . . we have marriage vows.  Those are good.

And then you have a positive pregnancy test and all of a sudden you are hurled headlong into the tyranny of the urgent.

Never, never, do we want to view bending to tie little shoes and reading I am a Bunny as unimportant.  But without vision, sometimes you wonder if tying shoes is important.  Without any plan for our children or where we are going as a family it is far too easy to for us to be victims of our self-induced busy-town, to quote Richard Scarry. 

Writing a mission statement for our family has been so freeing.  It helps us understand what to say yes to and what to kick off the to-do list.  It helps us understand what we're about.

Planning for us is held very loosely.  We are well aware that all can be wiped away in a moment; we also understand peace and prosperity are poor teachers.  Planning what we will do next year? That's a concept we can only embrace because of great healing and believing that the heart of God is kind.  Our dreams and plans are not about control or telling God what we're going to do for Him, rather not wanting to waste the life He's given and prioritizing well.

And at the end of all those plans, we say, ultimately, God, these are all Yours. You can change anything You want.

And at the end of the weekend, we realized that while we never got to the calendar, we had accomplished something much more important:  we came away with unity, with dreams, with hope for our marriage and family, with great excitement about what God is doing and so much joy in joining Him.  Way better than charting dates and times.

We'll get to the calendar eventually.  :)


typical of us, whenever we find something that works, we're so excited and want everyone to be able to share the experience. the vision weekend is no exception.  here are some starter ideas. . . at the very least, good questions to ask people you love.

Quiet, Peace, No Distractions: This doesn't have to mean going out of town and getting a hotel, but that's what worked for us.  It's the only way to peel our noses off the grindstone. ;)

What are we learning about right now?

Who is impacting us?

What is the opportunity right in front of you?

Based on current performance would you trust you with this opportunity?

Am I preparing for the next opportunity?

Am I ignoring an opportunity because the income does not match the work load?

If you could do anything for God, what would it be?

How do you envision the end of your life?

What motivates you?

What drains you?

What do I/you love doing?

*Listen to great music. Great music is always a subjective term but here are the songs impacting our vision weekend: Believer (AudioA) + Jesus, Move (Big Daddy Weave)


Sample from our papers:

Family Mission Statement 2013/2014

we’re not afraid, we’re believers

Jesus, we’re alive to glorify Your name

 

We desire to raise a family producing effective children who will make others’ lives better through Christ; strong enough as a family to be able to open our doors and step out into the world that is broken.  We want our family to be a safe place where each one is loved unconditionally, where we meet and satisfy one another’s deep relationship needs. We want others to feel welcome, safe and loved in our home and family.

Go write your own story!

sometimes i live for saturdays. . .

 

So the other day Pandora was playing Aerosmith's Don't Wanna Miss a Thing:

 

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile when you are sleeping--

 

and

 

Don't wanna close my eyes

Don't wanna fall asleep

Cuz I miss you babe and I don't wanna miss a thing.

 

 

 

For real, someone needs to come up with a version of this song for couples who have been married for ten years, because while I definitely felt that way at one point in my life

 

like when I was twenty-one

 

I still don't wanna miss a thing

 

but I would really like to close my eyes. 

 

And I definitely don't stay awake just to hear him breathing. 

 

 

I made myself take the weekend off and just breathe.  

 

Pancakes and some menu planning and book reading 

 

Sent JD off on an afternoon fishing trip with his buddies

 

Ran errands with Daniel

 

Helped Cambria doll up for her daddy/daughter date night event

 

Oh. . . time. . . freeze. . .

She inherited my complete lack of organization skills and came up with two clip on earrings: one blue and one pink.  We got creative which is what organizationally challenged people have to do and colored the pink and blue stones GRAY with a magic marker.  Whew.  Disaster averted.

She was so excited to go off to her little date night.  Daniel signed up to bring potato salad {????} .  I never make potato salad, but apparently he likes it.  I didn't end up having any time so I invented a new recipe:  PotatoSaladAuDeliCounter. 

Does he look like mischief?  Oh yes, he does.

Off at Navy {SEAL- oh yeah, we're proud} boot camp, Daniel's brother Mark can receive mail now so Eli wrote him a letter today:

 Hi Uncle MArk!
I am writing this letter to you through my secretary while I take a nap. I have had a very busy week. I threw a library book in the trash, I got into markers, I escaped the house and went for a walk, I bought some swim diapers so I could go swimming. I also went to the zoo and saw some monkeys and rode on a little train. I threw my sippie cup in the koi pond and the orange fish sure liked that!
Also, while I was at the zoo, I emptied my mom's last water bottle into the pop vending machine when my mom wasn't looking. As you can see, some type of boot camp is in my very near future. I love you very much. eLi DaViD

After that busy week, Eli went to bed early tonight and Jacob and I called dispatch and let them know we were planning to have a little marshmallow roast.

We built a fantastical fire with about 5 matches (go, me) and then it started to rain. 

I told Jacob it didn't even matter so we put a little tent of plastic over our s'more ingredients and sat in our lawn chairs and enjoyed. 

Ahhhhhhh. 

Yes.  I do love Saturdays.

ten reasons i am leaving my children for two weeks: here we come south africa

Daniel and I leave in four weeks to go to South Africa with a team of eight people from our church, serving the least of these at the Restoring Hope Village.

Three million + orphans in SA.  That is a staggering number.  Our tiny offering of time and love to give is a drop in an endless sea of need, but we want to start there, giving our little bit. 

This has been a matter of prayer and in the works for some time and we are so excited to go and follow God's leading. 

The trip was overwhelmingly and promptly funded, confirming that money is rarely an issue if God calls you to do something.  We're so thankful for the people who gave so freely. {you know who you are}

Below are my notes from sharing with our church family the reasons we each chose to go. 



I love top ten lists; some of you know that Daniel even used a top ten list to ask me to marry him.  There are so many reasons I want to go to South Africa, but I decided to put them in my favorite top ten format. 

So here they are.

1.  Thankful for the hope of eternal life that my salvation brings; wanting to share hope, knowing that only Christ brings hope for the pain life brings.  I accepted Christ as a child and knew the talk, walked the walk, but our son's death changed everything I believed into something more real.  You can't just be here, then gone, and that's the end, with just this little shell left of you.  There has to be something more.  There has to be eternity;  because if not, where does your soul go,  the part of you that's you?  Everything I believed about God became startling and clear and real to me.  Eternity = hope.  I want to share that.

2.  I know what hopelessness feels like.  It's crushing, it's demotivating, it's dark, dark, dark.

3.  I know what it means to be given the gift of hope.  That gift- that so many of you have given to us. . . is priceless.

4.  I want to honor and follow my husband's leadership. It can be a little scary to be married to a man who walks with God.  You kinda never know what he's going to do.  Daniel told me over a year ago that he was going to go on a mission trip, and I was like. .  . oooookaaaay!  When Louis and Amber came, during their presentation, Daniel leaned over to me and said, this is it, I'm going there!  I was really happy for him but then I started thinking. . . what if God tells him something big while he's there, like adopt or move to Africa. . .   maybe I should go so that I could know what my future might look like!  But I also want to go just to share in this experience with him, rather than haave him explain it to me when we get home.

5.  I want to say yes to God.  I'm blessed by so many people in our church who say yes to God and lead by example, and I want to be that.  I just don't want to start saying no to Him:  I want to say yes.

6.  I want to listen to wise counsel.  When we first started talking about me going too, we sought counsel from people that we were sure would advise me to stay home with our children.  Our parents floored us by enthusiastically supporting the idea and tripping over themselves to watch the kids during our absence; no, don't go wasn't what we heard.  I then went to my beautiful Mrs. A. . .sure that she would tell me to stay home and take care of my children.  Instead she pointed out that they would be fine, following God was more important than following safety, marriage priority > children priority and she also made me aware of point # 7.

7.  I want to teach three little white kids that the world is bigger than smalltown, USA.  And they are so excited and supportive of us going.  They want to go.  I hope they will eventually.  We aren't fans of children running family direction, but we wouldn't go if they weren't okay with it.  They're okay.  They care about these little people without any mom or dad.

8.  Because there's no substitute for human touch and compassion; $$ can't hug.  Just that.

9.  Seeking a wider perspective of the work God is doing globally. We don't have the corner on ministry here.  I know that zooming out can bring clarity to our vision and I'm so excited to see what God is doing in another part of the world.

10.  Because the world will know we are Christians by our love for one another.  And I think that extends to loving the least of these.

And then there's the many who are called to be faithful at home;  Africa isn't in your future, but lots and lots of endless laundry and Sunday School teaching and feeding hungry neighbor kids and being there when people need you and sharing hope with your coworkers and employees and the list goes on and on. . .

You are important, you are needed, we are not all that and a bag of chips because we're going a little farther than across the street. 

My sister writes about staying home when others go.  Read it, she's awesome.  That's her quote below.

This is my life, Lord,
Help me not to wish it away,
Waste it away
Or, not taste the joy of the people around me.
Lord, help me to be a joyful giver of Me.

fires we didn't start

could write about how i'm archiving all of the grief posts onto one page

could write about homemade tortillas

could write about . . .all kinds of things that i'm not really thinking about.

there's such a fine line hanging out there once you choose to dump your life out in front of people

choose honesty

choose real

choose the heartbreaking joy of not faking

there's this line that can be crossed.

it's called the oversharing line.

not everyone needs to know that Hayley had a bad day.

it's unnecessary.

it drags people down.

it's the reason I don't update my status with a Motrin mention when I have a headache.

so hopefully I'm not oversharing when I say that sometimes. . . in the middle of a very blessed life

and beautiful children

and an incredible man to love me, I still have really bad days.




sometimes life gets complicated

and decisions have two sides

and truth is grey

and you're not sure if the answers are what you need.

sometimes the fires we have to put out weren't ones that we started.

sometimes



you know. 



so when it was one of those days 

and I heard this song tonight. . . it stopped me in my i'm right this time, he's wrong tracks.

I had to pass it on because I cannot be the only person in the world who has days when fighting for your marriage is hard.

love isn't something you fall into.

it's learned.

we have the very best Teacher.

and we learn to love. . . because He first loved us.





I need the fear of a love that's lost
I need to stop trying to count the cost
I need to fight on the losing side
And always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the pain of a broken heart
We can't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
And learn to love through the darkness and the light
I'm on your side

I had the fortune of a second chance
I know the reason why we all should dance
I've seen the end and all you have to do
Is always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the pain of a broken heart
We won't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
We can learn to love through the darkness and the light
I'm on your side
Always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the broken heart
We can't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
And learn to love through the darkness and the light
Oh, learn to love

{Needtobreathe, Learn to Love, from the album The Reckoning}