Grasping for Grace

If The Apostle Paul truly believed himself to be the foremost of sinners (and I do believe that he believed that) then I have some hard realities to wake up to in my life. I need to strive even harder to be vulnerable before my Father. I must know my sin to truly know the sweetness that is God's grace. No wonder I have been entirely underwhelmed by The Spirit lately. I have been hiding from my sin and therefore have hidden the magnitude of His gospel from my own sight. I cannot feel it, I cannot see it because what I think of when I think of God is from a reference point of my own abilities. My own strengths. My amazing yet non-existent qualities. I am nothing apart from the gospel. I am nothing apart from the mercy of Heaven.

It is an uplifting thought, not depressing as it may appear on the surface. To claim wretchedness would logically seem to be self deprecating and self destructive. And in one sense they are. Because self will not bring me joy. Self will not bring me eternal life. Self holds no claim to the lifespring that is the Gospel. Yet even though these admissions do in fact devalue my self, they build a different core of strength within me. It lifts me much higher than I could have otherwise lifted myself on my own efforts, no matter how valiant.

Still, sitting here... believing every. single. word. I am typing, I am upsettingly underwhelmed by it all. Not so far as indifferent. But far too close to it for my own comfort. I would like to be able to honestly say I am more Christ-like than that. That I feel the reality of my own sin to the point of bitterness, thus revealing an even deeper sweetness through my real knowledge of the Gospel... but I am nowhere near that yet. I am still far too unaware of both.

"Till sin be bitter, Christ will not be sweet." -Thomas Watson

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Soulful Silence

As if I needed any confirmation... today has only solidified in my mind just how crucial alone time is for me. And not the I'm going to go hang out in another part of the house by myself, or the baby is napping and I've got the whole downstairs to myself brand. Like, really truly alone. Able to scream at the top of my lungs without alerting anyone if I wanted to, alone. And generally being that form of alone seems to cure said urge to scream. But again... I could. And that is what matters.

I love people. I love being around people. I really. truly. do. I especially love my husband and my son. They light up my world. But, the fact remains. I can only continue on for so long, in a sane fashion, while being constantly connected. Sometimes what I need is silence. And when the silence gets to be too much, music. Which to me is a different form of silence. A beautiful soul lifting silence. Even ground.

I can think. Clearly. The fog lifts... peace settles in. Even a small dose (but not an hour or two small) can carry me on into a week, even a month of constant interaction with a better head on my shoulders. Refreshed. Rejuvenated. Reawakened. Rekindled... that fire of self back and burning strongly.

Image C/O fotologic

The thing about it however that is so healing to me is quite a paradox; sometimes I must force myself to be physically alone to really truly know that I am never, ever spiritually alone. It takes quite to hear the most powerful voice of all... over the noise of my mind.

Truth is... I am not alone. And neither are you. Settle into the warmth of that knowledge for a moment, soak it in. Breathe deep. And move forward feeling more alive.

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Schizophrenic Style: Free Falling

   Somewhere between giving birth and becoming a mother I found myself again. Not that I had been really lost beforehand. But pieces of me were missing. My style and artistic self expression had been lacking. The last time prior to motherhood I had felt like myself in my own skin was on my wedding day. But it shouldn't take a major occasion to prompt one to reconcile the image they see in the mirror to the person they know to be inside that face, that body. 

   If my plan was to teach my child and future children to develop and maintain a strong sense of sense self, and to be confident in who they are, then what kind of example would I be providing if I hid away all of my aesthetic preferences and dressed as someone else would... something a responsible, professional person would wear. Interestingly enough I act more responsible and professional, and well, confident when I know I look like the person I feel myself to be. In fact I am finally able to forget about my appearance 99% of the time and focus on the people I choose to spend my time with. I say this a lot about my new realizations and experiences but it really is a freeing feeling. Funny how as I take on more commitments in my life I feel more free. It's been all about a shift in the type of commitments I'm willing to make. 

I commit to my husband and my son. To being a wife and a mother. I commit to writing and reading daily, whether I feel inspired to or not. I commit to my dreams and my future. To my art. And yet I feel like I have wings not chains or handcuffs. I am not tied down. Sometimes permanence provides the most freedom.

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Putting the Health in Unhealthy

Health seems to be a touchy subject lately. It may be due to the fact that the term itself has become so subjective. I am not a big fan of our current cultural leaning towards the blanket belief that absolutely everything under the sun is subjective. One person's "right" is not another person's "right", always, period.

I don't buy it.

We are all subjected to certain rules, reality that applies to everyone whether they want to believe it or not. I won't get into how I feel that truth applies to morals or "worse" religion... but at the most basic fundamental level you cannot deny that things like gravity and our need for oxygen and water are not subjective.

They are also not controversial. And so we disregard them. They don't help us justify the stance to which we have already emotionally committed ourselves, in any number of different topics.

Health is controversial my friends. At least in our modern world where obesity has become an epidemic and yet  body acceptance is at an all time low. Bullying, peer pressure and name-calling have morphed and replicated into a word-spewing pandemic that is eating away at the hearts and souls of not only our nation's young girls but girls and boys alike. Adults. Men as well as women. It's hard to have an honest discussion about health without going too far in any number of different directions... taking the conversation itself to an unhealthy place.

If we're unhealthy we tend to have unhealthy reasons and excuses that lead us to become that way.
If we are healthy, we are likely doing it for unhealthy reasons.

It's off limits to voice concerns for those we know who's level of dysfunction in their physical health is affecting their happiness and sense of well being in other areas of their life, a life we care about. One we desperately do not want to see shortened. But it is somehow ok to mock "fat" people on TV, in the hallways of school or work, behind their backs and oftentimes to their faces?

Being unhealthy gets backlash. Internal and external. Attempting to get healthy gets backlash. Because we're all just so. darn. defensive. And correct me if I'm wrong but the commentary has gotten out of hand.

Things I've read in the past 24hrs on health blogs:

• "I want to be skinny so that I can find a boyfriend who will love me for who I really am"
• "She must be starving herself"
• "Everything in moderation" (As an argument against removing junk from one's diet... when really it means I don't ever plan on giving up my Cheetos and as long as I believe what I'm saying then I won't feel like I have to.)

Doing the right thing for the wrong reason. Doing the wrong thing because it feels right. We sense that the people we see around us swimming against the current may have vain reasons for doing what they do and so we automatically discount their efforts... and their results. At the same time we have those same desires ourselves. I know I do.

It seems to me that our thoughts on health are rather unhealthy. Don't you think?

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The First Birthday Blues

Today is my son's first birthday, and well I really thought I would have spent most of the day reminiscing, going over every memory of that day. The day I had waited for, for what felt like so long. The day I finally got to meet my little guy face to face and see with my eyes the being that had been growing inside of me for nine months... But I didn't. Instead I spent most of the day allowing myself to become overwhelmed by insignificant things. I sit here typing away on my laptop at 9:04pm while he sleeps. His birthday is over. For him anyways. For me it just started.

My motherhood experience seems to crystallize for me at night after he's gone to bed. I have never been very good at living in the moment. I tend to have a fuller experience of an event when recounting it later, from a safe distance. It may be the writer in me, it may be that the emotions are too much to let run free in the moment they should be felt... or it could be that I'm just scared.

Either way, the fact of the matter is that a year ago today I gave birth to this amazing, awe-inspiring creature who today is walking, laughing and in the process of learning to clap his hands in joyous approval of the antics of his father and I. And remembering that isolated event is hard for me because, it was so, so, SO wonderful and scary in that incredibly rewarding and exhilarating way, but it transitioned almost immediately into many hard days, that lead to many hard weeks that made up several very trying months. Things didn't feel right for quite a while, and the fact that they didn't feel right just didn't feel right to me. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. I loved my son, with my whole entire heart. But it took time for me to grow the love that I now have for being a mother.

We didn't bond immediately. But we did bond.
We didn't recognize each other right away. But the recognition that occurs between us now is tangibly sweet.

And though I smiled and felt a kind of happiness on the day he was born it wasn't until later, looking back, that I experienced every one of the incredible, overwhelming, otherworldly emotions I had prepared to feel in the moment of his arrival. At the correct time.

Sometimes we need a delay, because we're not ready, despite our preparations, for the floodgate to open.

I sure wasn't ready today. But the damn has broken and the water is flowing freely now.

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Snippets; Sad and Happy Tears

Birthdays are for celebrating

And for parents in some ways they are also for mourning.

So many moments, those lived and those missed are gone not to ever come back

But each day new opportunities for living unfold

Our children are, before our eyes growing old

Still a baby, in some ways, not all

each day more a boy, a personality on toddling feet

smiles that constantly seem to be revealing new teeth

Hands and knees once used for crawling now aid in climbing

just about everything in sight 

Knowledge tangibly forming in repetition

mimicking, recognition.

An enthusiastic wave in proper response to someone's 'Hello'

...my 'Hello'

Mamma's and Dadda's with purpose 

Intentional hugs

Intentional disobedience

Intention

We celebrate with parties, and presents

with those we love around us

food and fun and story after story of a memory filled year

but the mourning, it happens alone

After everyone has gone, wrapping paper strewn across the floor

that once small bundle, sleeping on his own upstairs

in his very own bed

one with bars, pacifiers and stuffed animals contained within 

but a bed nonetheless

Counting down the days 

not wanting them to pass

360, 361, 362...

How?

Tell me how a year can go by so fast.

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Preoccupied By Party Planning

It amazes me every time just what goes into throwing a party. Even our housewarming party which we did without decorations, a theme or any of the things that usually excite me so much about those kinds of shindigs, it took a lot more prep work than I had anticipated.

...But a birthday party for a one year old? Even a small "informal" gathering... it's gotten a little crazy. I have all these awesome ideas, that sound simple, and seem like they would be cheap. Let me tell you, they are not. They never are. Those DIY decorations that are supposed to save you the big bucks? It's a hoax. Or at least that's how I'm feeling in this moment, as I sit here overwhelmed by all the projects that I of course put on my own to do list. Maybe it's because I have made roughly 4 trips to JoAnn Fabrics this week, and now that we live out in the middle of nowhere that is quite a trip to make just because you ran out of glue sticks for your trusty glue gun... because yes I am indeed glue gun happy.

But then I stop for a minute, take a deep breath and look at my creation, though it may still be in progress, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Excitement. The little girl from my parent's home videos holding the cracked but colorful Easter egg high up in the sky exclaiming "I made dat!!" ...or maybe that was my sister. But either way I share the sentiment entirely.

And there is always the fact that these things can be repurposed and reused year after year. I don't want to give too much away here so that, no matter how silly it may seem, my family will be surprised... because I really still am that little girl. But here is one non-theme related creation I am just about finished with, that I have to say I am pretty darn proud of:

Inspiration Credit: Pinterest

Please excuse the horrible photo quality... phone + bad lighting = that. But you get the idea. I will be using this wreath for many, many birthdays to come. Probably all of them if I'm being honest. Which I am.

Do you buy your party decorations at the local party supply store, get custom stuff made online or DIY. Or maybe a combination of those... maybe none of them. What's your go to party preparation formula / method? I'd love to know that I am not the only crazy one out there! 

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