6 Month Update

Back in January I wrote about going on a quest  to re-find myself. Here is a clip:

I want to blog. I want to exercise. I want to be a thoughtful friend. I want to be a lot of the things I used to be.

And so, this year I plan to find those things. I may not (read: will not) have a craft room that I get to play in every day. I may not have the amazing gym membership I did 5 years ago, or get the amazing workouts 6 days a week I was fortunate to have. I may not be able to be everything I wish I could be, but at least I can find where this new me fits amidst the shuffle and work. I'm on a quest to find me, and in the meantime I hope  to bring this little blog along for the ride! Should be fun!

So, 6 months in I decided I should take a look at how I've done.

First up: I want to blog.
Well, clearly that one hasn't gone well. I did manage to get a handful of posts in for a few months, but May went by without even a thought - and June had just barely more than that. I wish that weren't the case. I have trouble sometimes thinking of what to write, but mostly I just don't devote my time at the computer to that. It's still - always - a yearning I have. And I refuse to give up. But, on my quest, this piece has yet to be found.

Next: I want to exercise.
I'm happy to note that despite many bumps and bruises, I have been able to work on this one. I worked out most of January until a neck injury/issue came up and I could hardly stand to even move. I found out I have cervical stenosis (I can't decide if that does or does not deserve a post in itself) and it had me pretty immobile for a few weeks. But, thanks to amazing physical therapy, I was back to working out in March. I worked out the entire month of March - like, at least 5 days per week. I felt really good. April came and the final push of tax season took priority over all else. Seems to be that way every year huh? Its like - despite any amount of planning, I just have to write off the month of April or something. I slowly picked it back up after April 15 and through the end of May I was back to regular exercise. June didn't go great between Austin being gone, weekend trips every weekend, and other things. But I've been back at it this month, yet again. The point here is - I may not be able to consistently workout 6 days/week for months and months on end. But, I am still working at it. I am still doing my best and when I workout I feel better about everything. It really is the best drug. I still think about my trainer in Colorado, my bikini I wore on our family trip, and the awesome muscles I had in my back. I think about them often. Maybe one day I'll be back there, and maybe I won't. But I know I'm better for the effort and I am glad I am sticking with this despite the distractions.

Third: I want to be a thoughtful friend.
This is a hard area for me. I love serving other people. I love serving friends. I love sending notes in the mail, doing things out of the blue or being as helpful as I can to my friends. Problem: I don't have many local friends. It's been a challenge to try to make connections with 3 kids and all else, but I do think I've been able to be thoughtful to my long distance friends. Or I've made efforts - I guess I can't speak for the delivery of that :) I am definitely more conscious of it, and I enjoy when I make efforts towards this goal. I'm sure it's more of a journey than a destination.

And perhaps the most fun for me is that I found a (very dorky, almost not-admittable) hobby. I don't have extended periods of time to devote to hobbies. In the past, I enjoyed making quilts, working on scrapbooks, reading books...but I don't have long stretches of time and some of those projects are hard to pick up and put down. However, I did discover bullet journaling, May Designs notebooks (I believe I already professed my love here), lettering samples on pinterest, Foxy Fix traveler's notebooks, and a love for light journaling. Wow. I can't believe I gave that many details. As I would expect, I don't have the most beautiful or detailed journals (like the groups I stalk on facebook) but not only is a fun little outlet for creativity and to be in my own world for a minute, it helps keep me organized and on top of things. It also can be done for 5 minutes at a time with no issue, which is the perfect hobby for me.

I'm glad I sat down to write this post. When I was browsing my previous posts I saw the title "on a quest for me" and my heart sank, thinking I had wasted the last 6 months and not even started on my quest. But, I realize I have! That's huge for this season where I feel like I just stand still all the time. Work has been harder than ever in my life, and summer has been incredibly stressful. It helps to be able to see that in the midst of that, I've still been gaining some ground on me.

Isaiah 58:10

I always like to look back and see all of the connecting dots and what leads me to various places. There are so many small incidents that seem insignificant in life, and then when you go back and replay it you can see how it all worked together to get you where you are.

When I was in Africa in January my roommate, Kristen, and I spent a lot of time sitting in our room just talking because we weren't allowed to leave. Of course we were disappointed in the change in schedule, confused and concerned with the recent events, but we were good friends before she moved to Maryland and it was really fun to spend time just catching up and talking about life. One of the things we talked about was the book Hope Rising, which we were all to read before our trip. The book discusses how we, as consumers, have the power to end poverty through conscious Purchases through fair trade avenues. I asked Kristen if she had ever heard of Noonday, which she hadn't. I didn't know much about the company, I just knew I had heard of noonday a few years back and I browsed the website occasionally but hadn't ever made a purchase. I explained that the company buys handmade accessories from artisans in third world countries and pays them a fair wage in order to empower them to grow their communities. I explained that it is a direct sales business, relying on ambassadors to promote sales. Kristen was immediately intrigued and said she'd pray about it when she got home.

A few days later I was looking through some notebooks of mine and realized that the notebook I had given to Kristen for our trip actually benefitted noonday. I have a slight obsession with maybooks (www.maydesigns.com - check it out - swoon) and anytime I can catch a sale I think about who may need a new book. I ordered 2 notebooks with 'Burkina Faso 2016' on the covers and I let Kristen pick which she liked. What I hadn't really noticed at the time was that one of the notebooks was a design which partnered with noonday and a portion of the proceeds went to noonday. Kristen just so happened to pick that one. When I texted her to tell her, she told me she had turned the notebook over and noticed the logo on the back for the first time.

Later that week I was reading in my Bible and came across Isaiah 58:10, which I didn't know is the inspiration and vision for noonday.  And, when I shared this scripture with Kristen, she told me she had come across a scripture in Psalms that very morning which used the word noonday. She also told me she had decided to become an ambassador. I was so excited! I was hoping that was where this was all leading.

However, what I didn't expect was that it would soon lead to me signing up as well. I'll be the first to admit I'm a sucker for direct sales parties. I love going, I love playing games to win tickets to try and win a door prize, I always want to spend my $60 (or whatever the limit is) to get a free/discounted product, and I rarely decline an invite. But. I hate the push of direct sales. I hate being asked repeatedly if I want to host parties or become a consultant - it's just not my gig. However, this one is just different for me. I believe in the mission so much and I am so excited to spread the word about fair trade and empowering people globally. Amazing how a different perspective changes your view on something, like direct sales. I am just excited to share this amazing company and these beautiful and unique products.

I don't plan to push this like a true sales person would, but I do hope to make an impact and succeed with it. If you would like more information about hosting a trunk show, ordering products, or partnering with Noonday please let me know! When I do host parties I may post links in case people want to attend but can't, and I'm sure I'll write about the journey as it is definitely not in my wheel house. I'm excited for the growth! as always, I am so thankful to have people on this journey with me and helping me grow along the way. I will obviously never understand the evil in this world, and I'll never know what caused the terrorists to attack Burkina Faso when they did. I also will never know, at least in this life, the full picture of God's plan in having us there that day. I do know, though, that Kristen and I would likely have never had that conversation if our trip had gone as planned. And while the trip wasn't what we wanted, I know that there were so many things God intended to do through it all and despite it all. 

If you're interested, check out 

Www.noondaycollection.com/AmandaWallis 

This month is the end of season sale so a lot of items are discounted. And if you see me in pictures or in person with cute and unique jewelry, chances are its Noonday! Ask me :)

What. A. Dog.

My Sweet Layla Girl,

Everyone knows dogs can't live forever. But, somehow, I was just kind of hoping you would.

I often think of you as the start of a love story, you know. In 2003 you were living with Cici (you remember; the one who spoiled you like none other) because Dada was living in the barracks. She went on a vacation and needed a dog sitter, so I spent a week taking care of you. That was the spark that reignited an interest in me for Dada, and the rest is history. Maybe you sparked my interest in him, or maybe I actually just used him to get to you. We'll never really know, will we?

You've been with us since the beginning. You've been with us every step of the way. You were the mediator between 2 cats who were learning to live together when we bought our first home. You were gentle and loving when we brought out first baby home, and despite the tail-jerks and face-slaps you never got tired or annoyed by our growing family. You comforted me and protected me when Dada was in Afghanistan; you even woke me up to let me know there were some hooligans at the corner of our backyard at 3am. You crammed your big ol' body in the back of our cars for all of our road trips, and you were the sweetest dog to Mimi when we stopped at her house along the way. I don't even know if Mimi liked dogs, but she loved you, "Leasle".

You made the trek from Texas to Colorado more than your fair share of times, and then made the long haul to the west coast. You watched William grow, and loved every stage of his development (probably the stage immediately following tail-pulling the most). Then you welcomed another Wallis baby with an open heart...and...whoops, one more. Your patience never wore thin and you have loved those kids more than I knew a dog could.

I wish I could say, with honesty, that there's nothing in the world you loved more than a Wallis baby - but too many know that to not be true. Let's get real. You loved yourself some bread. Hot dog buns anyone? You loved yourself some accidentally-left-out snacks(pizza, Corinne?) You could throw back a 10lb brisket and chocolate chip cookie brownies better than I've ever seen. You had a stomach of steel - truthfully, our pride almost outweighed our annoyance. We almost thought you had met your match and we'd lose you to a whole, cooked rotisserie chicken (bones and all!) You even shocked us by surviving that one, though! In fact, over the last 5 years people were very weary of dog sitting for fear you may die on their watch. 

But no, not you, Layla. You stuck it out. Then, when you heard you could make your way back to Killeen you stuck it out even stronger. "One final victory lap before I go," you thought. This is where your journey started, and you were pretty hell-bent that this was where it was going to end. You made it, Layla. You made it home.

My heart is going to break a little bit every time I open that door and don't see your face there to greet us. A piece of me will cry when I put the kids to bed and don't see you standing guard outside their doors. I'll even hurt the first time I realize I don't have to hide my fresh baked goods in the microwave to protect them from you. You have been with us every step of the way, and I can't imagine you not being here as we continue to make this place home. And now you are finally pain free.

You may have been Austin's dog, but you were very much my companion and I hope you know my heart hurts for you. We gave you some extra treats, a little party, and lots of extra love today. We painted your paw prints so we will always have you in our home. And, I hope you know, we sobbed as we let you go. Even though we've gotten busier and you've gotten slower, nothing has changed the fact that we love you more than words can even say. You are a part of this family. Everyone says this, but I know it's true when it's about you: you're one for the record books. You're the best of the best. They say all dogs go to Heaven, Layla, but I don't know for sure if that's true. One thing I do know, though, is they've got a spot up there for you.

Now go run through those pearly gates. Run like your hips don't hurt. Run like you don't have a tumor. And go enjoy a feast of chicken, brisket, and hamburger buns then indulge in some brownies for dessert. Thanks for taking such good care of us, and thanks for being so hard to let go.

You have my heart,

Mommy

A little bit more grace

AI can't be very detailed on this topic, but I'll write what I think I can.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I was a little bit of a teacher's pet growing up. I know! I know, pick your chin up off the floor. I was the kid who liked to clean the chalk boards for teachers, took class work home to grade (seriously...is this really allowed???), jumped up at literally every opportunity to help, lead other kids by example, and embraced teachers at the end of the year with tear filled eyes as we said goodbye. You could say I was a brown noser, but my intent was never to better myself or get a leg up on anyone - I just genuinely liked being helpful to my teachers. 

My friends' parents always liked me. I can think of one instance when a mom didn't care much for me - and it drove me MAD. Same for teachers - junior year English teacher Mrs Gonzales - she just didn't like me. Made me a crazy person! My mom's friends usually loved me, and vice versa. And when I got to the age to start working, bosses have always liked me. Again - I've never sucked up to bosses in an effort to better my status with them or get some sort of special treatment. I just want to be the best I can I suppose, and I like to be helpful. So, it is safe to say that with the exception of one boyfriend's mom and one teacher, I've never faced much adversity in the arena of authority figures.

However, right now with work I am facing some serious adversity. My boss and I are on the same team, we are in the adversity together and trying to support each other. But we are both very worn down from it. This weekend I prayed a lot for more grace to show to the people we are dealing with. I guess praying for grace is like praying for patience: instead of being filled up with grace, I was slapped with the need for even more than I knew I'd need within the first 10 minutes of my day yesterday. It seems to be that way every day.

Some of my stories are comical, they're so absurd. I wish I could write about some! Maybe I'll share the best (or worst?) at the end of all of this. For now, though, I need to be focusing on things like perseverance, grace, patience...and taking a swig of humble juice as I face the reality that...damn it...I may just not be the favorite person here. I may not be the perfect person for what they think they need. Instead, I need to focus on doing what I can do as well as I can do it and let the rest shake out.

I'll need a lot of prayer and support though. And even though I can't write a lot about it now, I'm praying that my boss and I can see this through and create as good of an ending to this story as possible. 10 years from now, I want to look back on this season and see all that I learned and how much I grew. 

Scratch that - 1 year from now. I want to be on the other side and be thankful for the adversity 1 year from now. Most of all, I want to be able to say that I was filled with grace. Just a little more grace.

Dilemma

Whoever decided I should have 2 Summer babies and live on the equator (or what feels like it!) must have had it out for me. I wouldn't have this dilemma if I had 2 December babies, or if I lived in Antarctica. Just putting that out there.

But, here's my dilemma: I don't want to be a mom who misses out on half the fun with my kids because I'm too unhappy in my body to wear a swimsuit. The problem is, I'm too unhappy in my body to wear a swimsuit, and I have a beach birthday party coming up for, not one, but TWO of our babies. That's a lot of fun to be had.

If 'beach birthday bash' meant hanging out on the beaches of Monterey I could get by in a cute flowing skirt with a shirt that covers my upper arms, jewelry and accessories to draw your eyes exactly where I want them, and my hair could be down and styled beautifully. (Or as beautifully as I know how) 

But. Beach birthday bash means Galveston. It means hot. It means humid. It means I won't last 10 minutes before my hair is in a ponytail, and any added accessories just mean added sweat. There are people out there who manage to maintain cuteness in Galveston, and those are the people who seem to have been made for this climate. Me? I sweat like a... What's the end of that analogy? Like a man. Like a gorilla. Like someone who just ran a marathon in Florida. That's me. 

For all reasons other than myself, I am SO excited for the party. I love the beach. I love being outside. I'm excited for my kids to run in the sand, dabble in the water, build castles, get dirty, and I'm so excited to celebrate these 2 little loves. I don't want to miss it! But I don't want to think about swimsuits either.

So, for anyone who fits any of the above descriptions...anyone who knows the cutest bathing suits are made for size A chests...anyone who knows one year post partum is a crappy place to be...anyone who has ever felt better after buying a swimsuit than before...I need your help. Where do I shop? What do I look for? How do I embrace this season without cringing and crying and debating a food ban? 

Anyone at all...

Nancy Reagan

In 2004 I became a cat mom for the first time on my own. Through way of Alexis, I took in a wild little orange kitten who had more personality than a lot of humans. He became mine on the day of Ronald Reagan's funeral, so he was Reagan. Reagan eventually decided life in the wild was more his thing, and he left our family for the great outdoors of California back in 2012.

But, when we were in Colorado, Reagan gained a feline friend when we bought our first house. During our house visits, this cat would not leave us alone. She followed us, room to room, and jumped on our laps anytime we sat down. She was malnourished, had gotten sick all over the house, and was not well taken care of all around. But, she was the sweetest cat I'd ever seen, and she stole our hearts. We didn't care for her name, so we decided to give her the only name that was suitable to go with Reagan. Nancy became the fifth member of our family, weighed in around 6 pounds soaking wet, and she ruled the roost. Reagan and Layla knew immediately that their new home was actually Nancy's home. Layla, who has 70 pounds on nancy on a good day, bowed out of the running for the water bowl anytime nancy entered the room, and somehow fat boy Reagan was trained to walk away from the water bowl if Nancy needed a nibble.

We were told by the former owners of the house that it was good we didn't have kids, because Nancy hated kids. We were also told to watch out for Layla because she didn't care for dogs either. While the latter wasn't too far off (Layla grew on her after a few swipes at her face) I have never seen a cat love babies and kids like Nancy. 

She has had her tail pulled, her fur man-handled, her ears yanked, and has otherwise been squished and pushed and pulled for 6 years straight. Our kids adore their Nancy, and the best way they know how to show that is through physical abuse. 

But, Nancy has kept her claws in and patiently allowed the kids to treat her however they would like. She didn't just endure it, she loved it.

They fed her Cheerios when she was hungry.

She kept them company while they napped.

She offered a soft pillow to rest their heads. 

And overall, she just wanted to be wherever they were.

Nancy quietly and peacefully left us today. She spent her last day resting in our laundry room and left in the middle of the night, drama free in her usual fashion. She was 16 years old, and we got to be with her for the last 9 of those. She was an incredibly loved cat, but we were the fortunate ones. Nancy will be dearly missed, I'm just pretty sure by me the most.

9 months going on 2 years

I guess even at infancy babies can hear their parents and choose to defy them. I've been talking for months about how teeny tiny Loretta is and how she's still my itty bitty thing. She heard and responded with, 'I may be little but I am fierce'.

This week Loretta has decided to grow up. Just a few weeks ago we could barely get her to sit on her own. She knew how, she just had no interest in doing things alone. Now she crawls, climbs stairs, wants to walk, doesn't want to drink bottles, eats meals like grilled chicken with avocado, pasta and pears for lunch, and sits in the playroom playing with her big brothers. She's a big girl, and she's SO proud of herself.

She had her 9 month check up today. She weighed a whopping 16.5 pounds, bringing her in between the 5-10%. But, she shot up the last 3 months and is now in the 90% for height and head size!

She loves her brothers more than life and she's soaking up her new opportunities to follow them around and join in on all of their fun. This week she started taking bath with them and she couldn't love it more. I look at her and wonder, 'is that how much I adored Brandon and brian??' Must be. It's incredible!

She's our sweet little love bug and I can't say enough how blessed we are to have had her come into our family exactly when she did. Love explosions daily with that sweet face around.

And look at this tiny heiny?!?!?!

Happy Fake Birthday, Layla!

Between the military, 3 kids, and other boring things I find amusing I don't write about our furry friends much. Or ever. But, we do have 2 4-legged furry creatures who call this place home too, and sometime around now one of them is celebrating her 14th birthday in human years.

She's a dog. So that's what, 105 in dog years? I never did key into that calculation or logic. Anyway.

I literally have a draft of a blog I started back in September titled "What. A. Dog" in preparation of our having to take Layla out to pasture. But, like the cat with 9 lives, Layla is still alive and kickin'. I'd say thriving, but I think that's a slight overstatement. Anyway, I decided rather than only write a tribute to our incredible dog with tears in my eyes and stained on my desk, why not give her a big shout out in honor of the 4th anniversary of the year she should have died?

We were told when she was 10 that she likely didn't have much longer, so we have been awaiting her impending death for 4 years now. Do you know how awkward that is? There have been so many times we've looked at each other, hearts in our throats, and gave each other the "it's almost that time" nod. You know the nod. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I think Layla knows the nod too. I think she's seen us do it every time, and I think it gives her the surge she needs just to get back up and fight some more.

Layla is the best dog. I know everyone says that. Owen Wilson even joked about it in the movie Marley and Me. So maybe, it's possible, someone else out there has a better dog. But truth be told, I've yet to see it. What makes Layla the best dog? I think it's her heart and her patience. She's patient when William climbs on her back. She's patient when Charles pulls on her tail. She's patient when Loretta uses her as an aid to stand up. Most of all, she's patient when the 3 previously mentioned minions make me forget I haven't fed her in 2 days and her water bowl has been licked dry.

She's not perfect. She's got a sweet tooth, and a carb tooth, and an anything-human-within-my-reach tooth. And if you think there's anything OUT of her reach, you're in for something. I once tucked Austin's birthday cake in the corner of the kitchen counter, back in the verrrry back part of the corner, and had it barricaded by various items to deter her. What did I come home to? A PERFECTLY cleaned cake pan sitting on the kitchen floor. You would never have known I had baked a cake in it that morning. There was also the time she hid half of a brisket in Austin's recliner, saving some for later I can only assume. And there are  countless stories of friends who dog-sat her who feared she'd die on their watch, only to find she has enough kick in her step to reach bread, pizza, brownies, or anything else left on the counter.

Why, just this morning I came home to my pampered chef baking stone shattered on the floor because I absent mindedly left the biscuits sitting out when we ran William to school.

She's got a stomach of steel and can handle anything. Chocolate chip cookie brownie fudge layered dessert? 5 pounds of smoked brisket? A WHOLE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN, cooked, bones included? Yep, she can handle it like a champ.

Despite her eating habits, she is the most loving, patient, forgiving and likeable dog I've ever known. She protected me from thugs on the street corner when Austin was deployed, she nudged me for hugs when I cried in lonliness, she has welcomed home all of our babies (with only slight twinges of jealousy) and she is loyal to Austin no matter how many times he leaves her.

Layla is the best dog, and I am not sure if I'm not astonished or thankful that she's made it this long. I would say I think this is her last birthday, but I've thought that for the last 5 years. So, I bet she's got a few more in her. In any case, happy fake birthday Layla - in honor of whenever the real one is. We love you!

Journaling Prompt

My goal was to write more, right? And sometimes I have trouble coming up with ideas. So, I'm just following a few online prompts and when one pops up that I like I think I'll jump on it. They may be cheesy or boring to read, but I'm hoping that re-ignites the writer in my brain so I can come up with more fun stuff (like how William isn't afraid of jail!)

If you could describe yourself in one paragraph what would it say?

How long is a paragraph?

The two best things I could say about myself are that I am loyal and hard working. When I commit to something, even if its a brand of hair products, I am dedicated and loyal. I work hard to be the best I can at everything I do, and that is a cliché understatement. Rarely do I think I completed a job, project or task fast enough or well enough which means the next time I try I work even harder to improve. While this is overall a good trait, sometimes this results in me being so task oriented that I forget people are involved. I have been accused of lacking emotion or feeling (by more than one person!) and I can say for sure that is not the case. I have a lot of emotion and a lot of feeling, however it is not what  drives me and it often takes a back seat to what logically makes sense. My loyalty is strongest to those I love, but I don't forgive easily and I have no problem cutting people out without looking back. Thankfully, marriage teaches a lot about forgiveness, as the giver and receiver, which has helped me to grow in other relationships, too. I'm not perfect, but I try to be. Therein lies my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness.

How'd I do?

When Time Stands Still

If I close my eyes I can still smell the Mexican food Shelley Young was delivering in the kitchen. I can still feel the coldness in his purple toes. I can still see the devastation on the faces in the room. I can still hear the words, 'he's gone'. And those 2 words still send chills down my spine.

It's been 18 years since my dad went to be with Jesus. How has it possibly been that long? How can I still see his face so vibrantly in my dreams, hear his voice behind me in a church where he never sat, and feel him so close when it's been so long?

Some days I wake up and might actually make it through one day without thinking of him. When that happens, there is usually a surge of guilt once I realize it, but there is also a little bit of relief that I am able to live without him despite how desperately I wish I couldn't. Then some days I wake up and I instantly feel like I just got beat in the chest with a weighted club, and I wish more than anything I could just go back to sleep. How can that stay so real, so fresh, after 18 years? 

But when I close my eyes, I can also remember another time when my life stood still. I can hear my doctor at her office telling me, 'you're in labor, my dear, I'll meet you at the hospital!' I can still feel that poor, poor student nurse, who I ignorantly allowed, trying to give me an IV (I never knew all of those words could strong out of my mouth at once!) I can still smell the staleness of the hospital while I thought to myself, 'this smell is finally being redeemed'. I can still hear the nurse tell me, 'wait! You're at 10! Don't push I have to get the doctor!!!' And I can still see the most beautiful sight in the world, as Dr Russell lifted William up for me to see his face for the first time. 

I can't believe that was 6 years ago, and yet sometimes it feels like William has been a part of my life for longer than my dad hasn't. Time can play tricks on ya sometimes, and sometimes when we aren't even expecting it God can come in and turn your worst day into your best day. Half of my heart hates the concept of groundhog's day, while the other half is so thankful that I can relive my memories repeatedly.

Dad, I thank my God every time I think of you. I thank Him for showing our family what love looks like, for showing us what a dad can be. I thank Him for your leadership, your humor, and the hugs that felt bigger than this world.

And my bear, I thank my God without ceasing for the opportunity to be your mom. You amaze me with your heart, your love, and your unbelievable intelligence. I can't wait to see what God has planned to do with the gifts He has given you, and I am so very thankful you were born on February 2, 2010.

The day when time always seems to stand still.

Writing Prompts

I've missed blogging - a lot. It seems like when I first started I didn't even have to ponder what I'd write about. Prompts or topics just fell in my lap. But I seem to have hit a block - which may have a lot to do with all of the other stuff juggling around in my brain. So, in an effort to get back to my flow of writing, I'm going to somewhat follow a monthly writing challenge on a website I've been drooling over.

I'll throw a plug out there: it's foxy fix. I get nothing for telling you that, but I do love their beautiful products, even though I'm too cheap to buy one :) I found their January writing challenge toward the end of the month and they haven't posted February yet, so I'll just take January and make it a mere suggestion.

Prompt 1: Make a goal to achieve by the end of January February.

My goal is to post at least 12 times this month. (aim low, give yourself a self esteem boost)

Writing has always been a fun outlet for me. I want to find my way back to the time when I logged in daily to just write about whatever came to mind. My simple goal of writing 12 times this month seems a little silly, but I think that if I just make myself get started - even by following some sometimes-dumb prompts, maybe I'll eventually get my groove back. So - here we go. 12 posts in February, make it happen!

I'm At A Loss

It's not often that I think about and pray about a post while remaining without words. So, I'm just going to start writing. I have no idea where I'm going to end up, but I know if I wait too long to write I'll miss something.

So. Burkina Faso.

15 days ago I left for my first mission trip. I left my babies for the first time. I got the first stamp on my passport. And I thought I knew what I was signing up for. I was prepared for my heart to be broken and prepared for my reality to be shaken; I welcomed it. 

Yet, I had no idea what I was signing up for.

We arrived in Africa on Thursday and after a long journey we settled into our hotel late that evening. We didn't have any events that day other than to prepare ourselves for day 1 of our trip. We spent the first half of Friday at the regional office for compassion international, learning about the work being done in Burkina Faso and what more there is to do. It was a long lesson, but like the brown nosing student I always was, I enjoyed taking notes and learning the intricacies. I even had a taste of what the Lord had for me as I broke down when shown an image of a baby who was not much younger than Loretta yet looked like a newborn. He was starving, literally, and in desperate need of life saving care. Thankfully, compassion was able to provide that and we saw pictures of him a year later - looking happy, and healthy, much like my charles. It's hard to see that, have kids at the ages that I do, and not be broken up over it. The reality that I could have been that mom couldn't escape me. I could have been born under different circumstances. I could be desperately trying to simply keep my babies alive. I could have been born with less resources. But I wasn't, and I owe all the glory and gratitude to God for that. 

After our visit at the center we spent the afternoon at one of the projects in the country. We walked into their church building and I was taken back by the level of care in the upkeep and maintenance of their building. A building like that would be abandoned and abused here, and yet it was a treasured and loved shelter there. It was simple and beautiful, and walking into their project I could immediately feel and see a JOY like I've never known. Joy - unexplainable joy. There was a group of mothers of infants who did a song and dance routine for us, most of them wearing their babies on their backs. Again - it's hard to see that and not make comparisons. Here at home we are so caught up in what swing (and bouncer, and stroller, and play yard, and play mat...) our infants have. There? They have their moms' backs - and they're happy to be there. I literally never heard a single baby cry in the time we were there. 

We split into groups after their welcome ceremony to visit the homes of some of the young moms. My group went to the home of a woman who has a 3 month old son. Her husband travels around in search of clothes to mend, and she sells peanuts. At the end of our visit we asked if she needed prayer for anything. In my mind I expected a laundry list of prayer requests and needs. In my first-world brain I could see so many needs she must feel. Yet she had one prayer request. One. She prayed that she and her husband would be able to save up money to buy their house so they'd no longer be enslaved to rent. That's it. In our verbiage, she wanted financial freedom in the most simple and basic way. And her pride - she was SO proud to show us her home. She had taken immaculate care of her patio area, everything was cleaned up nicely and she was happy to share her home with us. I was prepared for meek living conditions; I was not prepared for joy in the lifestyle. It was humbling and eye opening.

Friday night after dinner we had small group discussions and we were in the middle of discussing the first question, 'why are you here?'. The timing of the question is so meaningful as we were literally answering the question as devastation was taking place a few miles down the road. We were outside near the pool and couldn't hear anything, but terrorists were attempting to leave their mark on Ouagadougou and stake claim of Burkina Faso. Instill fear. Cry out to their god. Fight against everything we were there to stand up for.

And just like that, the course of our trip changed. We thought we were there to go see the way in which these people live, love on them, and somehow serve them in their communities. But, in reality, God sent us there for much more dire reasons. God desired for His name to be praised louder than any other in that country at that time, because of the evil this world intended. 

We didn't all have instant realization of this mission, and some of us spent Saturday with a range of emotions. Some people on our group were sad, some scared, some confused, some defeated. I, for one, spent most of the day focused in anger. But, thankfully, we had an incredible church service that night where the presence of the Lord was undeniable. At that service we all refocused together on the right things, on the real work that needed to be done there.

We spent most of Sunday in prayer and meditation over what God has planned and what He was doing. And then, after a day full of that and some fellowship, I had the most incredible experience of the trip. Compassion had arranged for a surprise visit to our hotel by some of the teenagers in the program who are part of a music and dance group. They came to perform for us and their talents on the drums and dance floor were INSANE! So, so good. After their performance we all mingled some and I assumed the night was winding down, but then some of our team started drumming and their leader and team started teaching some of our group how to play. They ended up giving each guy his own rhythm and once it was all pieced together it sounded so cool! I was on the dance floor/stage area and one of their dancers came over to dance with me. What I'm going to try to explain here will sound dumb - maybe a little crazy - but I can't not share it, I only wish I had better words. As she was trying to show me the dance moves the craziest thing happened: everything around us faded, she somehow got me to dance in sync with her, and as we looked in each other's eyes it was like I could see her soul. I hesitate to even type that because it sounds SO crazy. SO odd. But it was so beautiful. It was like I was dancing with a friend I'd known my whole life, and when I danced with her I somehow managed to successfully (or somewhat so) dance. Like - I almost looked cool doing it. We danced for what felt like a second but also felt like hours at the same time, so I really have no idea how long it lasted, and I was unaware of anyone else around us. I apparently missed some killer dance moves by others in our group, but I think it was worth the trade off. I can't put to words the experience I had other than to say that we were truly in the presence of the spirit and to make a connection like that without words felt like a glimpse of what Heaven will be like.

Monday morning we had some kids from misc projects around the area come to our hotel and we were able to do some of the activities we had planned to take out to their communities. We painted nails, played sport-type games, did crafts, had a VBS style puppet show and sang and danced. The kids were a little shocked by the hotel and 35 American swarming them, but they seemed to make connections and attachments to individuals in the group and once we earned their trust they were excited to play with us. It was so fun to dote on the and give them a day full of fun experiences they, hopefully, never forget.

The most incredible part of the  interactions in each of the settings was that we were able to make real connections with very few words exchanged, if any. Some people from our church refer to this as a love exchange, but prior to experiencing it for myself I didn't know the depth of the phrase. I believe I do now, and yet I also think I'm maybe just starting to scratch the surface. Either way, there was a tremendous love exchange.

I know that back home, while we were gone, things seemed a little chaotic. I know there was a lot of worry and concern for our safety. It was almost embarrassing at times when I looked around at the incredible location God had for us - sure didn't feel like a missions trip, and never once did I feel unsafe or in danger. We had the cream of the crop, so to speak, while the media over here showed so many shots and videos of the devastation literally just down the road. I know it'd be easy to focus on all of that - but the real story is beyond that. 

Burkina Faso, like so many others, is a nation stricken with poverty like we can't even comprehend. But the people of Burkina Faso are hopeful for more, and the people in the compassion centers have such joy. After seeing it, I can't want anything else more. The Joy of the Lord is their strength, and I learned so much more from them than I could ever offer them in return. My heart broke over the fact that we THINK we have so much to give them, but the joy they have for us far surpasses anything we could bring to the table. It's a beautiful and humbling reality.

I love their country, I love their people, and I will keep praying that I can 

go back.

We ended up with a 24 hour layover in Brussels - which no one was quite dressed for - but we did do our best to take advantage and enjoy our last day together in style.

A Joyful but Hurting Heart

And we will dance on the streets that are golden

The glorious bride and the great Son of Man

From every tongue and tribe and nation

We'll join in the song of the Lamb

I started writing this the day before I left for Africa, but I wasn't quite ready to finish it so I assumed I'd finish when I got home. Then Africa happened, and for some reason the timing of when to post this never felt right, so I kept waiting. I woke up last night in tears from an awful dream in which I took my kids to see Aunt Joy. After I packed them all up in the car I went to hug her goodbye and she died in my arms. I dream so vividly, and it can be very beautiful but also very painful. It suddenly felt like the right time to finish this.

It is with joy that I can say that my Great Aunt Joy is dancing on the streets of heaven today with all of her brothers and sisters, with her mom and dad, with my dad and with so many others who have gone before her. It is with joy that I can say that she has met her creator and can be in His presence today. It is with joy that I can say she is no longer in pain in this earth, but she is with He who overcame this world.

It truly is with joy that I can say all of these things. That doesn't change the fact that I am hurting from the inside out as I write this. This morning I called to tell her I loved her before leaving the country, as I suspected it'd be the last time I'd be able to, but I was late.  she had already passed. I know that "one more time" is never enough, and it wouldn't make it hurt any less. I know that she knew I loved her, and I know that one more call wouldn't have sealed that love in her heart. I still wanted it though.

Moving to California when we did was such an orchestration for my relationship with Joy. Joy was special to me as a kid, though I didn't see her much, and she and I talked on a few occasions about how she wished I could come see her in San Mateo, California. It sounded so glamorous to me! I never thought I'd actually make it out there, but when we found out where we'd be moving I was so excited to call and tell her. We drove up to see her on our first weekend in California and Austin, William and I all instantly fell in love with our trips up to visit. The loving connection between young children and elderly people is so beautiful to see, and William loved his Aunt Joy. He always asked if we could take flowers to her, and seeing the smile on her face brought so much happiness to his.

Being away from our immediate family for almost a decade, having Joy nearby was so special to us. Austin and I talked often about how amazing it was that we were able to take the time to visit her often and that what looked like a sacrifice on our part to do something nice for her was actually just a blessing to us. Joy was a remarkable woman who lived such a rich life. Over the last 3 years I sat with her for hours listening to her stories of her past. Stories of my family, stories of our country, stories of her good times and some of her bad. Her memory was impeccable and the greatest gift she could give to me was the knowledge she had on our family history. 

I know we went to California for so many reasons. It'd be easy to say it's just where the army sent us, but that's not it at all. God had a lot of work to do and a lot of resources set up for that work right there waiting for us. His timing, as always, was perfect as we got to have the best of Joy's last 3.5 years. I hated leaving when I did, knowing her end was near and knowing if I had 6 more months I'd probably be able to comfort her a little more. But God had a reason for taking us away when he did too, and in that He spared me the pain of watching someone go from where she was to the end in such a short time.

The day after I got back from Africa William asked me, 'when can we go back to California and visit Aunt Joy?' My heart was full of happiness and pride in the fact that she was so tremendous to make such an impression on him, but broke into pieces as I watched his face crinkle up with tears when I told him she had gone to be with Jesus.

The entire time we lived there she repeatedly told me, 'I'm not ready yet, it's just not my time'. One month before she died we were on the phone and she told me she was ready. She had finally completed what she felt she was brought here to do, and she was ready to go be with her Heavenly Father. How beautiful a gift is that?

Forgive Like a Child

William may have taught me a lesson in forgiveness today, and I've got some pride to swallow later today as we owe him a pretty big apology.

Last month Austin and I were at target alone. Weird, that we'd ever have that opportunity, and weirder that when given the opportunity all we wanted to do was shop for surprises for the kids. Yep, we're those parents. We saw the cutest little batman sweat pants and sweatshirt, which we knew William would love. He was so excited Monday morning to wear his new gear to school.

His teacher emailed me and asked that I not send the cape back with the jacket because all of the boys wanted to play with it and it was distracting, so the next day William wore the jacket with no cape.

Then we never saw the jacket again.

We both reminded him every day that he needed to look, and I had gotten a note that the lost & found would be going to a donation center after the semester ended. I knew if he didn't find it in those 2 weeks it'd be gone, so I kept harping on him. His answer never changed, "I put it in my cubby but it's just gone". I've seen him "look" for objects before and claim they're missing, only to go in the room and see them right in front of my face. So, being told it was "just gone" just irritated me more and more. After the semester ended we told him it was probably just gone and we dropped it.

Well, today I was in his classroom and the kids were getting ready to go to PE so they were told to go get their jackets. I saw a little boy, who we will call J, get 2 jackets from his backpack.

I blurted out, "William! Is that your batman jacket?"

J: NO! This is MINE!

Ms McC: Wait wait, J. Is this REALLY yours?"

*J drops jacket and walks off.

Ms McC, whispering: We've had a problem with him taking things. I remember the first day William wore this, it went missing before recess. I was searching in all of the backpacks and then the jacket just appeared on the floor in the middle of the room and no one would claim responsibility. But we've had quite a problem with things from the cubby area going missing.

William reminded Ms McC that they used to keep J's cubby area on the opposite side of the room so that nothing went missing, and kindly said "maybe we can try that again?" I gave him a hug and said I was sorry about his jacket. He said, "Why? I got it back!" and skipped off.

To have forgiveness like that! He doesn't even care that the boy stole his jacket, he's just excited to have it back and is carrying on with his day. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at home, hours later, stewing over how frustrating it is that someone would just go into the cubby area and steal another person's jacket. A kindergarten student! Also, to think that upon bringing this jacket home his parents wouldn't reprimand him and make him return it. I can't imagine.

I feel like I owe William a big apology for the way I've reacted to this missing jacket, but I think the better plan is to silently let him teach me a little bit about forgiveness and moving on.

A breath of fresh air

When Austin came home from Iraq in 2005 I helped him unload his household goods into the house he and his buddy would be renting. When he left for Iraq we were not dating, but when he came home a year later I just knew we'd be getting married. A lot changed that year. We unloaded a big, heavy dresser - contents still in drawers - and lugged in into his room. He decided to go through the drawers, and in the top 'junk' drawer I found an envelope full of letters. The handwriting looked familiar, and the return address was 

21110 Carmel Valley Drive Katy, TX 

That, my friends, is where I grew up, and the stack of letters tucked into the envelope were letters I had mailed to him when we were 'dating' in junior high/high school. He had kept 7 year old letters from me in his junk drawer. He kept them and stored them away in 2004 not knowing I would be with him when he unloaded it upon return. I was blown away. In those 7 years he must have had a dozen girlfriends, and back in our day (after hiking up hill in the snow) we hand wrote letters to boyfriends/girlfriends. We made signs and pictures. I know he must have had similar letters from other girls, but none were safely kept for an unknown future. Gasp, sigh. 

I love the memory of finding those letters in that dresser, but I didn't necessarily love the dresser. It was a solid piece of furniture, much higher quality than any dresser I had ever owned, but it was out of date, out of style...and the hardware hurt my eyes. The dresser stuck with us though, and it made its way from Killeen to Aurora to Seaside. Once we found out we were moving and having another baby I asked Austin if we could please refashion the dresser for the baby and either upgrade or in any other way remove it from our room. There was slight hesitation - he'd had it his whole life! It's a nice dresser! Where would he put all his stuff??? (Because, you see, austin had 8 of the 9 drawers...the only drawer that was mine was the former junk drawer turned jewelry drawer) I promised him I'd find a place for all of his things if he'd please let me re do the dresser for the baby. He agreed, although I don't really think I gave him a choice. I just started telling people that's what was happening! What a patient man he is. After all, I was pregnant with his third child - what else was he to do?

We got to Killeen and devised a plan for Loretta's room. The final piece would be the dresser makeover. My thoughts: her room would be shabby chic rustic chic some sort of soft feminine chic without too much pink. Got it? Pictured in your head?

I had no idea how to execute.

We made a stripe pattern on one wall of her room which came out all wrong in my head. I wanted the purple to be the primary color, but the purple turned out too bold for my vision and now my plan of a purple dresser was just not going to work. I had artwork/wall decor that I couldn't seem to place, colors I didn't think were blending - what in the world was I thinking, trying to be a girl mom?? I was lost.

After a frantic and wordy message (wordy? Me?) to one of my top 5 favorite friends of my mom, who I'll claim as my friend too, I was back on track. 'Pull the mint from the wall to the drawers and paint the dresser white' she said. Mint? White? But I said purple? Did you read what I wrote? Ok. You're the expert! I'll go with it.

And expert she is. The dresser is so beautiful and I've gotten gushing reviews from my husband about how awesome of a mom I am to have seen the beauty in his old dresser for our baby girl. (Thanks misskim ;) ) I'm sure someone out there doesn't agree, but I think it's just about the most beautiful dresser I've ever seen. The best part: it completes the room and brings the look I was hoping for. I am ecstatic.

It's dumb to say that designing a room has given me confidence I needed in being a girl mom, but it has. Sure, I can do sports and race cars and avengers and Legos. But this room - I can do this too!

My angel Loretta - oh, how I love you.

Here is the before and after of the dresser...

And here is her FINALLY completed room, the best room in the house:

Her little reading corner could use some decorating help, but I needed the blanket which inspired the color theme in here somehow - and the bookshelf just proves we live here, we read here, we love here.

On a Quest for Me

There is so much out there about the struggle of transforming from an old you to a new you. Losing weight. Graduating from high school. Graduating from college. Becoming a mom. Transformations are hard! And while we (usually???) want what we are morphing into, that doesn't mean it comes without growing pains and some loss.

I recently talked with a friend about the choice of how many children to have and she talked about sticking with her one. Her one amazingly precious daughter! I shared with her that I've often thought I'd be a better mom had I stopped at one. Don't read that wrong: I DO NOT WISH I had stopped at one, but I do think I would do a better mom-job if I had one kid rather than three. 

When I had one kid his development was never overlooked. When I had one kid I knew what he ate for dinner last Tuesday and made sure we didn't have a repeat week of meals. When I had one kid he was read to every day. (Well, truth be told, he still is. It's the other 2 who may be suffering)

When I had one kid he had a mom who knew who she was. And while that may sound selfish, you're better at everything you do when you know who you are. I am a better mom when I know who I am.

The problem is, when I added baby # 2 (and then very quickly #3) I scrambled. I suddenly had 6 ears to clean out at bath time. I had 3 developmental levels to track. I had 3 precious balls of love to tuck in at night. Often, one falls asleep while the other 2 are being tended to. Or one has shoes with broken Velcro because he tore them just as we exited the shoe store to replace shoes for the other. Or one is still drinking the same amount of formula per bottle as she was 4 months ago because I don't have the energy or time or focus to stretch her appetite.

And I only have 3! I would say 'how do moms of 4, 5, 6 do it...' But I know how

- some days they just survive. You do what you can. You make it work.

Unfortunately, in all of that 'make it work' mentality you sometimes forget that your ears need cleaning. Your brain needs stimulating. Your interests need cultivating. And in that fleeting moment when you remember, you remind yourself you're too tired to think about it. But, I don't want to be lost in this season. I may not be the same person I was with no kids or with one, but I want to find who I am in all of this.

I want to blog. I want to exercise. I want to be a thoughtful friend. I want to be a lot of the things I used to be.

And so, this year I plan to find those things. I may not (read: will not) have a craft room that I get to play in every day. I may not have the amazing gym membership I did 5 years ago, or get the amazing workouts 6 days a week I was fortunate to have. I may not be able to be everything I wish I could be, but at least I can find where this new me fits amidst the shuffle and work. I'm on a quest to find me, and in the meantime I hope  to bring this little blog along for the ride! Should be fun!