A Change of Pace

Let's pretend for a second that life is a rat race...or maybe it's like being on a rowing team. Instead of the Coxswain yelling row in the megaphone, they are yelling "Strive! Strive!..." My goodness, this is how I feel at least 75% of the time. How I want so bad to dwell in the unforced rhythms of grace all day-100% of the time!

I was in the bathroom a few nights ago, trying to figure out my hair. I had this elaborate design planned in my head, but I was subtly racing the clock to have it done before my husband got home. I would begin a row of twisting my hair..."Strive! Strive!" Was all I could hear in my head...leading to epic hair failure. I undid my work. Began another row. "Strive! Strive!" ...epic fail. It looked so bad, I decided to change my hairstyle altogether. 

All the while, I'm thinking about what I'm going to wear at church the next day. Thinking about how I regret unfinished business plans. Thinking about how I still haven't cleaned the kitchen, finished the laundry, painted the boys bedroom, swept the dining room floor, or done my nails. Oh, my poor nails. I haven't given them proper attention in years, partially because of the incessant "Strive! Strive!" chant I've been coasting along to. The weight of it never really affords me the opportunity to get anything worthwhile done.

I remember once, I was spending time in prayer and I felt like God was tugging on my heart to change my pace. To stop striving all of the time. How do you stop when you've been moving at breakneck speeds for most of your life? Doing many things, but few things well? Just getting by and running on empty far too often. Bouncing from one task to another- to complete anything just to have even the slightest feeling of accomplishment. 

 Sometimes our peers can be the greatest teachers. For a while now, I have been noticing the life of my sister in law, Donna. She is a ballroom dance instructor, so she kind of glides when she walks, moves gently and deliberately- even when she endearingly punches my husband, (as his older sister) there is a certain grace to it. :-)

 One thing I love about her is that she is rarely in a rush. She allots more than enough time to get ready in the morning. She actually tastes her food when she eats. She sits at the end of the day with a glass of wine in her hand, lets herself unwind and begins discussing the happenings of her day. In contrast, most days I hop out of bed to the sound of my kids yelling for me to come and get them from the bottom of their bedroom door, maybe take a 5 minute shower and sometimes brush my teeth. I grab the boys, throw breakfast together, break up a fight over toy cars, let the crazy dogs outside, maybe even eat my eggs straight from the pan to fill my stomach before the baby wakes up and starts to cry to be nursed. You know, the life of a mom with young children. 

I was considering that maybe things don't have to be this way. I don't really have to strive and stress in the happenings of my day. Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes, I wake up early. Sit outside by the water and listen to the birds chirping with a steaming cup of tea- do a small devotional and get grounded to begin my day. Days like those are so much better overall because I start the day with intentionality. I want to begin every day this way. I need to. Not only for the sake of not losing my mind, but for the sake of hearing the voice of God.

If I'm moving so fast, I lose the beauty of the stillness that I find Him whispering to me about His great love for me and for my children. I miss Him cheering me on as a mother and wife when I feel like I'm doing a thankless job. I miss God's reminders of love written across the skies as I walk with the boys to the park in the morning. I miss what is far too valuable to ignore. I can't afford to do that anymore. 

Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 says:12 I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. 13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. 

So today, I will be intentional. I will taste my food. Even though I have many unfinished tasks to be done-many of which could easily overwhelm my heart with feelings of shame, I choose to reject striving in my dealings. I choose to believe that the goal of my life is far more than just to accomplish things. The goal is to enjoy the journey. To really know the love and heart of God. To really get to know and love myself. Out of these places will flow great beauty that will allow me to bless my world and the people in it. No more striving. Just grace.

 I challenge you to do the same. Be intentional today. Rest. Love well. Find delight in the works of your hands and throw striving out of the window. Bask in the love of Jesus. You can do it! I believe in you. 

Love,

-Mel

Get in the Water

We live in a world of so many aspirational lifestyles and inspirational people. A belief that we do not add up to what we wish we were, can lead to feelings of failure.  We look at where others are at our age, we remind ourselves of what we could be doing with our lives.

Through it all, we must never forget that we are inspirational too! If not to others, what about to ourselves?
Look where you've come from! You're still standing! Re-read your story. You are where you are today because you didn't give up! You are NOT wasted space. You have NOT wasted time. You poured your life into what truly matters and have reaped the benefits. Celebrate you.
(I am definitely encouraging myself right now.)

A few weeks ago I was dealing with some issues surrounding failure. I did a video blog about it. I've been feeling the weight of failure again this week and I wanted to share my journey with you. In the midst of dealing with failure, we must never forget to keep living, thriving and trying. Don't give up. You deserve to live out your dreams. Don't just stand on the shore. Get in the water!

CHECK OUT THE VIDEO BELOW:

-Mel

Oops, I did it again!

It has definitely been a week of far too many mistakes for me. Most of the mistakes have centered around my bad attitude. This week I found myself painfully regretting my words, screaming obscenities at the bathroom ceiling, not desiring to be around people in general...feeling like everyone is judging me...

The culprit? Well, there has been an issue festering in my mind for the past few months and it has been getting worse. An issue of white carpet. I know it sounds petty, but you'll soon see what I mean. 

One of things that makes me happier than anything, is having a clean floor that my kids can play on. The floors become wrestling mats, movie seats, places for sleepovers and impromptu picnics. A place where my littlest guy, Ethan, will soon learn to crawl... but in our house, there is a problem. 

You see, when we bought this wonderful house back in March, upon viewing it, my nose was immediately struck with the pungent odor of cat urine. Since we moved in, I've found myself on hands and knees scrubbing pockets of feces from previous occupants that I've discovered on the berber, and treating potty accidents that I can't quite seem to get out. It's been a constant battle that I've been losing. 

To add insult to injury, we recently added a new member to our family. His name is Cashew and he's a Chihuahua. Born with the providential "deer" head shape, instead of the usual bubble eyes and unsightly underbite most breeds have, he quickly stole everyone's heart. Everyone but mine...well partially...Why, because he pees and poops everywhere! I'm slowly working on potty training him, but he makes far too many mistakes in the house. 5+ a week! Can you imagine how things are starting to smell in here? Like a freakin' toilet. 

Ok. I digress. Back to the issue of mistakes. The dog has been making mistakes and so have I. Not on the carpet of course...in my attitude. In my character. Unfortunately, bad religion has left an indelible mark on my psyche, and this week, I've subconsciously employed the view that God will not bless me or draw near to me because of my dumb mistakes regarding my attitude. I can't think of a better lie to believe.  Even in my quiet time, as I breathed prayers to my Savior, I found myself subtly believing that I'd been just too bad for Him to answer the ones that were closest to my heart. I was believing lies. To remind me of His great love, guess what He did? Let me tell ya.

On Wednesday I was making dinner and was so angry about how disgusting the floors were- covered in the gamut of dog vomit, poo and urine with a slight smell of cat pee to tie it all together. As I'm trying to get over it, I catch sweet little Cashew eating poop out of a diaper he retrieved from the trash. That's when I HAD it. I stormed out of the kitchen to my prayer closet and just cried to Jesus, about everything- basically had an adult tantrum. This isn't how I planned my home to be! If it isn't orderly, can it at least be sanitary?! I remember specifically telling God that I would love new vinyl floors to fill the house at the cost of $250. I felt better. Got food on the table. Put the kids to bed without incident. Kinda forgot about it.

Last night I finally decided to end my pity party and dominate the white carpets.  I wouldn't be a victim any longer! I would shampoo them everyday if I had to...starting tomorrow. Well, I happened to jump on Craigslist before bed and what did I see? An ad for Vinyl flooring in 5 colors for 25 cents a square foot. There was a minimum of 1000 sq. feet to purchase to get the deal. What does that come out to? $250! Woo hoo! I am so overjoyed at this prayer answered. Seriously guys, believe me when I tell you this truly reminded me of God's love. 

So, no matter how far how bad you feel you've been this week, or how petty you think your prayers are, there is so much love and grace for you. God loves you no matter what and He will make sure you know it, even if you've had a crappy attitude. 

I grabbed samples of the flooring this afternoon. I'm picking up the lot in the morning. Hallelujah! So happy! Rant over. 

Have a great weekend! :-)

-Mel

Touch and Go

Let’s be honest for a second.
There are some things in your life that aren’t easy for me to talk to you about.
Like the way you pretend you weren’t crying when you walk into the room.
Like the way you’re addicted to the spotlight, and use sarcasm as a defense mechanism to keep people away.
Like the way it seems like you’re cheating on your husband when you hug that other guy at work.
Like the way you hate to be alone with your thoughts, so you fill up your time with worthy causes so that you don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror.
Like the way you feel like you’re swallowed into a chasm every time he tells you he looked at porn again and you act like it’s not ripping your heart into pieces.
Like how you want to scream when you see those bruises on her arms-she always says it was an accident.
Like how you wish you could say you didn’t understand how she felt being secure in another woman’s arms instead of a man's, but you do.
Like how I wish I could say I've never felt like throwing up every single piece of that chocolate cake out of fear that I’d gain another pound, but I can’t.
Like how I want to hold you and cry with you because I know you’re hiding another tragic loss of a baby behind that fragile smile.
Like how I wish I can say that the struggles of cutting, rage, stretching the truth, drinking yourself to sleep or taking pills to treat a condition you don't have anymore aren’t common, but they are. You’re not alone. We’ve been there before. Life’s like that. Sometimes, It’s touch and go. 

I was at the park today, and my oldest son decided to invite a stranger to our picnic. She obliged. For the sake of this story, let’s call her “B.” Maybe it was her piercing blue eyes and warm smile that compelled me to hand her a nectarine and invite her to join us…or maybe in was the persistent kindness of my son. Whatever the reason, I soon found myself deep in conversation.

We began chatting about the joys of having children and she commented about how happy and carefree mine were. I was freaking out inside because I didn't know her from Adam, and she was so close to my kids- still I didn't really feel the need to ask her to go away. Instead, I engaged her. She said she had a daughter. I wondered where she was. Soon our conversation evolved from kids to her appointed rendezvous with a young man who had cheated on her. She only found out because the woman in question sent her a text to tell her to “stay away from her man.”

We exchanged a few “Oh no he didn’t!” moments, but I couldn’t help but think “If we feel the same way about the actions of this guy- that he is probably living the life of a dirt bag, then why are you meeting him here?” As she recounted her story, her eyes almost pleaded with me-seemingly asking me to make her consider walking away…but I said nothing… and still she waited for him. I don’t think he ever came.

Have you even witnessed something painful in the life of friends or even strangers that isn’t easy to talk about? Have you ever been the one with the “issue” your friends and neighbors were whispering about? "Touch and Go" situations happen all of the time, but how do we find ourselves there? Unchecked emotions? Trauma or tragedy? Bad decisions? Let's talk about it.

There have been many times in my life where I was the one that needed intervention. Under the surface, of “Mel” was a minefield. One of the things about me is that I can hide things well to the world, but I verbally and emotionally vomit all over those in my close circles when I am not at my best. When I find myself lashing out at my kids, short with my husband, boycotting cooking dinner, aloof in the corner writing songs and scribbling black randomness onto canvas- you know, doing the whole sackcloth and ashes thing…I need to check my heart. A little rainstorm in my heart can turn into a hurricane if left unchecked. 

I am a huge advocate for counseling and emotional healing through therapy. I went to many counselors and therapists over the years and they have been instrumental in helping me define just what my heart needs. One counselor in particular spoke of the reality that certain interactions in my life can subconsciously trigger inner turmoil inside of me when I have not healed from experiences. He called it “Shaking my Snow Globe.” I hate it when something shakes up my snow globe! Triggers can be tough situations that I cannot control, critical words from others, uncomfortable interactions with strangers, or seeing others in pain. One of my biggest triggers is watching people that I love make bad decisions. That eats me alive.

When my snow globe is shaken, I find myself acting crazy. What cures me is a little quiet time alone with God. I pour out my heart and get honest about how I’m feeling and what was the cause. When it comes to heart wounds, it's crazy how something so minuscule can set me off. I remember one week I was pissed for like three days.  When I finally sat down to figure things out,  the melt down was over my analysis of the life of a musician I respected, after I watched her character embody an unspoken fear that I had in a music video. Eek! That's why I don't watch TV.

Through trial and error, I’ve learned that I need to overcome feeling frozen within myself and initiate routine heart checks. I need to be emotionally healthy for my family and for myself. It’s an actively challenging process, but in time, initiating healing becomes commonplace. I can't afford to melt down for days if my "snow globe" is shaken. 

I don’t want to waste any of my life going through a metaphorical desert. I want to thrive. I want to heal to so that I can be at my best and do what I was made for, even if the process of healing sucks. You deserve the same.

You were made to function at your best. You were made to live without heart wounds. You were made to find joy in your life and to bring joy to others just by being you. The journey to healing may be rough, but it’s always worth it. 

If you find yourself in a “Touch and Go” situation today, love there is hope for you. Believe me, I’ve been in many of them and I am the worst! If I can make it out alive, so can you. 

Matthew 11:28-30 says: 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

These aren’t just nice words. These words are truth. I’ve lived them out and I’m feeling the grace and peace I’ve always wanted, needed and prayed for. You deserve the same. Lay those burdens down love. It’s time. Write me if you wanna talk about it. 

Love,

-Mel

The Greatest Thing

Yesterday evening, our refrigerator died for a few hours. I was in the kitchen preparing a drink for my little one, when I noticed something strange. I could actually smell the food in the refrigerator. It's crazy that I didn't notice it before. You don't usually smell the food unless it's getting warm, but I didn't think about that. I didn't really think about anything, but to grab the butter and cheese. The butter was soft. So was the cheese. 

All I thought of while cooking was "Man, these grilled cheese sandwiches are cooking fast!" That made me happy, as I  often cheat when I make grilled cheese.  I just melt the cheese in the microwave and brown the bread in the toaster. Perfection isn't that important to me when my kids have rumbling tummies. I'd rather show them love by providing for their needs sooner that later, because I know what it feels like to be hungry.

I found myself in the kitchen- sippy cup in my hand, when I finally put two and two together. You see, I'm the kind of person that doesn't really anticipate things going wrong, so when they do, it's news to me. I decided to poke a milk carton in the freezer just to be sure that this was actually happening. Yep, the milk was almost completely thawed out. I yelled toward the living room to my husband who was working hard on homework. "Jon, I think we're going to need a new refrigerator pretty soon." Now, half of me was overjoyed because that loud thing stole so much peace when the kids were asleep. It was louder than the sound of the dogs snoring in the living room. I couldn't stand it. I wasn't thinking about how much the refrigerator was going to cost, or the stress that it was already causing my husband to hear those words. I was thinking about how quiet it would be when the thing was finally gone and I knew that God would provide for us no matter what, because of His great love. 

There was a point in time where my husband and I shared a brief conversation about resources. We had seen God provide before and we knew that He would, but something inside of both of us wanted to revert to a "freakout cause this is reality" mode- to a time where we didn't have anything. This was a time where we only had have enough money for rent, bus fare, a few bananas and a loaf of bread (that we purchased with pennies) . A time where we were in poverty and so dependent on God to provide for every simple sustenance that we needed to survive. 

We thought about getting a military hardship loan to pay for the refrigerator flat out and then we would slowly repay it as funds would be deducted from Jon's paycheck until the amount was paid in full. It seemed like a good idea at the time... until I was washing dishes and was reminded that although Jon wasn't working an additional job, this was the first time in months, maybe years, that we didn't have to tap into our savings. We actually had money left over! I kind of stood in awe of the provisions of God and remembered how He had miraculously provided in the last few months since my husband had stopped his personal training business. 

The first month, we received an anonymous check from our bank for over $1600 because they realized they were not providing the best service that they could have regarding our account. It was exactly what we needed to make ends meet. The next month, Jon received a raise and clothing allowance from the military. It was exactly what we needed. This month, I knew we would be short on grocery money. I have a family consisting of a very hungry husband and three growing boys. One day online I randomly decided to enter a contest to win some naturally raised chicken, and I won! I never win anything! I was blown away. I was just thinking that the money that I would be short on this month would have been the money I would have used to buy meat for dinner. It was exactly what I needed. It was my manna. God provided exactly what I needed, every single time. 

So, while I'm washing dishes, I just feel that we were supposed to take the abundance that we had and the resources that we'd been given to purchase a new refrigerator. This would be a step to solidifying the end of a poverty mentality in us. If we would go backwards, we would step right back into it. Anyone who knows the despair of not having, knows how difficult it is to walk forward in confidence when you are on the other side on having little. This difficulty is usually from the fear that abundance will be taken away. It's funny because the next day when Jon came home from work, I told him what I felt, and he that he felt the exact same thing. He was going to ask for a handout and was stopped in his tracks. 

It's so crazy how we traverse from one season to the next. It feels so foreign sometimes. It even feels painful sometimes. We have to leave the unfamiliar because God is calling us to something better. He is calling us to step out onto the water. To overcome the fear that we may sink. To trust that He will NOT let us drown.  

A few moments ago, I was nursing my little one and he felt asleep in my arms. I was reflecting on the goodness of God and about what I should write about tonight. I knew it would be about His great love for us His great love for you. Then I got a clear picture of what that meant.  As I lay in bed with my little one in my arms, the dogs started to bark and he stirred enough to realize that he was in my arms. The biggest smile spread across his little face as he nestled deeper into my arms. I felt such an amazing feeling. At that moment I realized because of my great love for Ethan, I would do absolutely anything for him! There was nothing that he could do to turn me away. There was nothing he could say to make me change my mind. There was absolutely no obstacle too great to move, because I wanted to make sure the desires of his heart were met. Guess what? That's how God feels about you! It is because of His great love. Romans 8:38-39 says:

38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[p] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This truth is for you! There is nothing that can separate you from His love. Not poverty, nor wealth. No mistake, no regret, no anger, no life choice, no abortion, no fear, no failure, no sin, no disobedience. NOTHING! He loves you enough to move heaven and earth for you. He adores every bit of you. Perfection from you isn't important because all He wants to do is meet your needs. He loves you with His very being. I can't imagine anyone loving more than the love that I felt for my son tonight, but that is how He loves you. How He loves us... and this my friend, is the greatest thing. 

Love,

-Mel

The beauty of creativity

Driven by a deep desire to craft ones passion into a tangible masterpiece, we weave our efforts into beauty. Some create songs, others scribble prose. Tonight, I created a twig vase...and failed.

Do you ever have a picture in your mind of what a created work will look like, yet as you keep working on a project, it continually morphs into something you don't really care for? Well, I'm actually happy to be able to have creativity at all.

Within the victim of life-altering trauma, there is often one common thread- the death of creativity. I have spoken to individuals who have forgotten that they knew how to knit, paint or dance. Others have stopped dreaming completely. I have been there myself.

As my life has become adrift with stillness and continuity, I am finally able to dream creatively again. Although haphazard, I'm still dreaming! Although there will be a lot of failures along the way, each mistake contributes to the whole of me. Each one working together to redefine my passions and solidify my personhood.

Whether your creativity be amiss in the drudgeries of tragedy, the monotony of parenthood or the disconnect of the awareness of your self and soul, I encourage you to dream again!

The ability of creativity is as a God-placed fingerprint weaved within each of us. Find your passion. Re-write your story. Dream daily and achieve those dreams! Right now, my dreams are to become a carpenter, master the piano, videography and musical production. I have so much to learn, but I can see myself at the finish line. Love, do not give up until you achieve every passion set before you. You are never too young, and will never be too old.

Love,

-Mel

Ps. I'm going to keep working on the vase until it becomes something beautiful.

Does He Need Me?

Next week marks the 4 year anniversary of my eldest son's arrival at home from the NICU. In honor of that day, I wanted to share a previous post I wrote about the process.

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Sometimes I like to analyze things...maybe over analyze things. I'm sitting here scrubbing the dining room table contemplating whether or not I really need to nurse my 7 month old through the night. He acts like it's a matter of life and death... and I'm just trying to stay alive from sleep deprivation. He needs me too much...Then a stark contrast enters my mind. Does my 2 1/2 year old really need me at all? In his mind, it seems he doesn't. He would go all day in a soiled diaper, eating raisins and bananas, and is highly skilled at operating the water dispenser to fill his own Dixie cup, thank you very much. He knows what TV show he wants to watch, when we need to go to the park, or what t shirt he doesn't want to wear. The difference between he and his brother is a matter of time...time in the NICU.

I have been told the attachment issues my 7 month old is experiencing are present because he was taken away at birth to an entirely different hospital on the other side of town for ten days. It was at least 2 days before I even held him. Smelled his sweet hair...touched his skin. He was born with a keen awareness of my presence and the trauma of our separation.

Back track two and a half years to the birth of Nehemiah. Born at 24 weeks of gestation, he lived in the NICU for almost three months. The nurses were his mother... the beeping of machines lulled him to sleep. He never had the opportunity to really comprehend his need for mommy. It was about a week...maybe more when I saw him for the first time. The innocence and newness of his transition of life outside of the womb was only residue covered by layers of thick medical tape, as he was tucked safely in an incubator under bilirubin lights. It was probably a month or more before I even touched his sweet hand without gloves. To him, all that time, I could have been another nurse. But in my heart, in my being I knew better. He knew...I was mommy. I am mommy. I will always be.

Sometimes with his independence, I fear he will forget that he needs me...yes my job is to prepare him for the world and let him fly in time and it's coming fast...all to fast. Will he ever really know? For he doesn't know he was meant to be held in my arms... meant to be nursed at my breast. Lulled to sleep by my love songs.

Hmm...

Well, What I missed then is mine to give now. I have to teach him. I choose to give him all my love and more. I won't have him forever. So go ahead sweetie. Fill up your dixie cup and let the water fall on the floor, cause at the end of the day, I tuck you in bed with your big Brown blanket and Mickey mouse with the chewed up nose that you refuse to sleep without. I read you the same story over and over again. Sing you the same songs and I kiss you goodnight. I am irreplaceable and I am yours-
whether you like it or not. :-)

Yeah, these guys need me...no matter how much or little it seems. Truthfully, I'm pretty sure I need them a little more.