Sock Drama and Swatch Watches

Back to school routines are in full swing at the Vollette house.  We are checking binders, checking the computer updates, signing planners and orchestrating activities.  I make 20 lunches a week, wash at least that many loads of laundry and juggle the schedules of not just my family, but of five others as well for my childcare job.  Two things I must say.  First, no comments or feelings about me being a "supermom".  There is no such thing and I don't want to be one.  I just do what needs to be done for my family and most days, I do it without a total meltdown.  That's my meltdown.  Not the kids'.  Second, I know my kids are old enough to make their own lunches and do their own laundry.  But why am I a stay at home mom if not to take care of my family?  They are capable and will be self sufficient by the time they leave my house.  I have made this promise to their future wives.  Because believe me, there are plenty of things I will need to apologize to those precious women for. 


The mornings in our house are only made unpleasant by one thing.  SOCK DRAMA!  So many people say to me, "Oh you have all boys.  You have it so easy.  Girls and their drama are just a hot mess you don't even have to worry about".  Well, as much as I love the young men in my house, they have their fair share of drama. Not to mention the current trend of girls not matching their socks.  You girl moms have it way easier than I do!


At our house, there are never enough socks.  When we do locate a pair, we have to do the dreaded "smell test" to see whether the socks are clean or not.  This is a potentially life threatening activity depending on where the socks were found.  They could be anywhere in my house as my children love to take them off and fling them wherever. Usually at each other to try to gag the victim with the smell.  Remember the sentence where I said I do 20 loads of laundry a week?  Why are there never enough socks that are the "right socks".


This is where the rest of the drama comes in.  Did you know there are right socks and wrong socks? The masterminds of the sock industry amaze me.  Because I can't just go to the big box stores and get the cheap white socks.  No, my boys have to have socks with special names that cost $15 a pair.  When we were shopping for school clothes, the oldest two compromised with us and agreed to share these pricey foot coverings.  They take turns.  It is the best lesson in sharing I never intended to teach. 


As we were discussing the cost of the "right" socks, I got to thinking about my teenage years.  The things that were important to me to have in order to feel like I "fit in".  Swatch watches, Coca-Cola shirts, an Esprit bag to carry my books, Outback Red 10 button shirts, Guess Jeans and Liz Claiborn purses.  As a parent, I tend to forget how important those little things were to feeling confident and secure as I went off to school. 


The thing is, I still feel it and see it in adults.  Coach purses, Sperry shoes, the newest iPhone.  We all want to "fit in".  I know there are deeper lessons of self esteem and loving who God created you to be.  We do focus on that at our house.   I focus on it for myself as a mostly well adjusted adult.  But if I can take some to the awkward sting out of navigating the teenage years with a pair of socks, then I will. 


I just wish we could find some that match, don't smell, are the right length for the shoe choice, have the correct symbol and aren't white.  Because at 6:45 in the morning, this mom could do without the drama. 

Weeds And All, Choosing Beauty

This time of year, our yards tell a story.  It is dandelion season.  The way I see it, there are three types of dandelion yards.  The first is the I don't care yard.  The owners have not made any attempt to stop the growth of the yellow things.  The second yard is the I am really trying here, but my neighbor isn't so what am I supposed to do when all those seeds start blowing my way?  The third yard is a pristine expanse of green not even marred by one single dandelion.  Our neighborhood is host to all three of these yards and as I drive by them several times a day, it got me thinking. 


Not everyone feels the way I do about dandelions.  I hate them by the way.  I try to get rid of them, but my yard is still host to several.  The shift in my dandelion perspective came from the sweet children I care for while their parents work.  This past week, I have watched them making wishes as they blow the seeds into the wind (sorry friends next door).  I have been handed bouquets of yellow to the sweet exclamation of "here Miss Weegan, these are fo you".  Just yesterday one of the boys I watch said, "Look at all the beautiful flowers!"  My first response to him was, "well, they might be pretty, but they are just weeds."  I realized that I was in danger of crushing his joy.  He didn't see weeds when he looked at the dandelions.  He saw beauty. 


There comes a time in our lives when we stop seeing beauty.  I am not sure why that happens.  Maybe we become too judgemental and after a while, nothing can measure up to the standard.  I am not just talking about the physical beauty of another human being.  I mean the beauty in everything.  Maybe we are too busy, too jaded, too asleep, too distracted.  We see whatever it is we are looking at or experiencing as just a bunch of weeds.  Somewhere along the line, maybe someone told us, "well, it's nice and you really tried, but it's just a bunch of weeds." 


We need to reclaim beauty.  We need to recognize it and celebrate it.  We need to explore it and create it.  We need to enjoy it and honor it.  Beauty in ourselves, in others and in the world we live in.  Because sometimes, it is more than just a bunch of weeds.  Sometimes it is beautiful. 

Toes in the Sand, Choosing Rest

Last month, I received a text from my friend Jill inviting us to get our families together.  We both went through our calendars throwing out dates for possible connections.  After several attempts to find a date that fit for both of us, we landed on a winner.  Three full weeks away.  I find myself in this situation often.  Wanting to connect with the people in my life, but not being able to find a time in the foreseeable future to do so. 


I have felt too busy lately.  Like my calendar and schedule are controlling me instead of the other way around.  I am made for full on, deep connection with others.  It is hard wired in my heart to know and be known.  I have felt depleted in this area of my life for a couple months.  This empty tank in my heart slowly sucks the life and energy out of all other parts of my life.  My job is harder, my parenting is lacking and my motivation to move forward wanes. 


Enter: Spring Break.  We spent the week in Florida.  We had no agenda, no schedule and it was absolutely lovely.  The six of us enjoyed lazy mornings, relaxing trips to the beach, fun afternoons in the pool and a week spent with my parents.  We rarely looked at our watches and let our hungry tummies dictate our days.  It was just the break we needed. 


So often, we wait until we are in a crisis situation to choose rest.  If your house is anything like mine, the weekends are filled with kids' activities and projects that need to be completed.  Sitting down and relaxing is not something we take time for.  If you are like me, you feel guilty for taking the time for yourself.  There is always something else to do and people that need you, but all those things will still be there if you take the time to say no and rest.


Rest needs to be an essential part of our lives.  God tells us to rest.  We need to take a Sabbath.  We need to turn down the volume on our lives and allow ourselves to be filled back up in the peace and quiet.  When we do choose rest,we are better able to fulfill our purpose in our everyday activities.  Rest looks different to everyone.  What looks like rest to me might look like laziness to you.  Investigate what rest looks like for you and try to fit it into your schedule every week. 


Pictures from our Spring break don't include theme parks and adventure, but they do include smiles and the peace that comes from digging our toes into the sand, listening to the soulful sound of the ocean tide and choosing to take a deep breath and rest. 

Chasing Rainbows and Choosing Joy

Today is the first day of Spring.  Even with the chilly morning air, there is a sense of anticipation and hope of sunny days to come.  The early Spring flowers are beginning to push their way out of their winter slumber and birds are filling the morning with song.  I love this time of year.


I also love quick pop up thunderstorms in the Spring.  The kind of storm that leaves as fast as it arrives and is followed by a beautiful sun and a rainbow.  I have always loved rainbows.  When I was a little girl, it was one of the only things I could draw with any real talent.  I had stickers and sheets and earrings all filling my world with the colorful order of ROYGBIV.  As I grew older and discovered my faith, I was in awe of the Biblical promise of a rainbow.  Seeing a rainbow in the sky is a reminder to me of how very much God loves me and how He keeps his promises.  I simply cannot pause long enough to take in the beauty of a rainbow filling the sky.



This year, my husband and I have chosen the word JOY for our focus.  We want to saturate our life and the lives of our children with more joy.  Not happiness, but joy.  True, heartfelt, deep, abiding joy.  The kind of joy that remains on the bad days.  The kind of joy that remains when you don't feel happy.  The kind of joy that invades our hearts and becomes the very breath we breathe.


A huge task.  As I read back over that I think to myself, "really is that even attainable?" I believe that it is.  However, I also believe that we have to work for it.  We have to intentionally choose joy.  We have to seek it out and sometimes even hunt it down. As if we were searching for the end of the rainbow. 


I am convinced a direct route to a joy-filled life is through the filter of gratitude.  Every time I find myself caught up in the "stuff" of life and lose perspective, I notice that I am lacking gratitude. Gratitude leads to joy and joy is what I am chasing.  What I am choosing.  What I long for deep within my soul.

To me, choosing joy is like finding a rainbow in the sky after a Spring rainstorm.  It is all the colors of my life brought together to be something beautiful. 

Wrong Turns, Serendipity and True Love

Recently, Mike and I were able to get away for a few days.  Just us.  We went to Martha's Vineyard for five days earlier in September.  It was a beautiful mini vacation for us.  The weather was gorgeous, the place we stayed was comfortable and welcoming and we didn't look at our watches for hours at a time. 

One thing that always seems to happen to us is making wrong turns.  I have a terrible sense of direction and while Mike is much better, he lacks the attention to detail when following directions given.  As you can imagine, we ended up in several places we did not intend to be.  Sometimes, this causes friction but many times what we experience is serendipity.

The definition of serendipity that I think I like best is; an occurrence that while unexpected, yields a fortunate or favorable outcome.  On our vacation, we discovered many hidden little treasures on Martha's Vineyard.  An unscheduled three car ferry ride to Chappaquiddick resulted in a beautiful long walk that was filled with great conversation and comfortable silence on a practically deserted soft sandy beach.  Lunch outside at a corner café we happened to walk by was our favorite dining spot. A day spent driving around the island and stopping whenever we wanted led us to a familiar place on Gay Head with a lunch enjoyed on a cliff overlooking Vineyard Sound. 

The reason this last spot was familiar to us is because 17 years ago this weekend we spent the day on Martha's Vineyard as part of our honeymoon.  We reminisced about how young we were and how much has happened in the last seventeen years for us.  We simply relished in being together and investing in our relationship.

We have had a few wrong turns and corrections over the course of our seventeen years together.  But we are stronger and closer because of them. But thankfully and truthfully, the occurrences of serendipity far outweigh the wrong turns.   These two things have resulted in a love so strong and so true that it literally takes my breath away. 

So I will take the wrong turns. Giving grace and receiving it when we make corrections.  I will cherish the unexpected and often times fabulous discoveries we experience in our lives.  I will choose to love everyday and stay in love everyday.  Because for Mike and me, wrong turns often lead to serendipity.

Happy Anniversary to us! 

Dry Cracked Earth

I am a beginning of the season gardener.  Every Spring I head to the nursery full of enthusiasm and not much actual knowledge about flowers.  I just want them to look pretty in front of my house.  I spend the day pulling weeds, raking, planting and mulching.  The finished product looks amazing and I make a solemn vow to water and care for my new plants.  And I do.  For a while.

This year, I have been particularly neglectful to my flower beds.  After the first few weeks, I stopped watering all together.  For a while, it was hard to tell.  The flowers still bloomed and looked full and healthy.  As time went by, I began to notice a few weeds popping up here and there.  I decided they weren't all that bad and let them go. 

This morning, I was out front saying good bye to my kids as they were picked up for car pool and I looked at the flower beds on my way back in.  They really looked bad.  There are big, prickly weeds taking over the bed.  When did they get so tall?  The flowers are droopy and no longer producing good blooms.  When was the last time I pruned them?  The ground was full of deep cracks.  When was the last time it rained? 

I have been the dry, cracked earth.  I have often ignored the care that is required to live a vibrant, colorful, joyful life.  The deep crevices in my flower bed were such a strong visual for me today.    Sometimes our lives can resemble a neglected garden.  I know mine has. Very slowly and without warning, bad habits can begin to take root.   If we aren't paying attention, they grow out of control and need to be drastically taken care of.  Just like flowers need pruning, we too need to be evaluating our lives on a regular basis.  If not, new growth can not take place.  The most important often missed necessity is water.  We must be involved in activities and practices that water our souls, fill us up and make us blossom into the best version of ourselves we can be. 

I know my flowers aren't going to rebound with one watering.  Similarly, when we notice an area of lack or neglect in our lives, there is often not a quick fix.  Sometimes we have to prune and weed and put in some really hard work to revive our dry, cracked souls into vibrant living. But take heart, it can be done.  Choose one thing, start there and eventually, hopefully your garden (and mine) will flourish. 

Accidental Beauty

We love our backyard.  It is such a place of peace for our family.  At any given time, you might find one or more of the six of us laying on the hammock, sitting by the fire pit, enjoying the serenity of the deck in the evening or swinging on the play set.  It is our place.  Nestled against a deep tree line with plenty of perfect fort locations and a creek, we are secluded, for the most part, from our neighbors and their yards. 

One thing we love about our yard is all the birds we have visit our feeders.  We have seen bright red cardinals, blue jays, nuthatches and a few we haven't yet identified.  By far, our favorites are the hummingbirds.  My neighbors will tell you that I stole all the hummingbirds from them.  For some reason, they just love our yard.  There are so many, you might get dive bombed by a couple tiny but aggressive females.

This summer, we got a pleasant surprise under our bird feeder.  After several weeks of refilling the seed, we began to see what we thought were weeds growing among the day lilies.  Being the not gardener that I am, I let them go.  One day, we were greeted by a sweet sunflower.  The seeds had been dropped by the birds and took root in our unkept patch of landscaping. 

It was accidental beauty.  Beauty that we didn't try to cultivate or force.  I am learning to appreciate these moments of accidental beauty more and more.  It is the small moments that make up our lives.  An older brother holding the hand of the youngest, suits and towels lined up on the porch rail after a fun day at the pool, spontaneous "thank yous" and "I'm sorries".  The things we take for granted and the things we don't notice are the very things in our lives that can make all the difference.

Take a deep breath, look around and open your eyes up to the moments in your life.  If you can, snap a picture of it or write it down in a journal.  Then, on the days when you wonder if it all is worth it, be reminded of those small moments of unforced, simple, accidental beauty.

Lessons From a Fish

Apparently, the saying "there is more than one way to catch a fish" is totally true.  A recent trip to Bass Pro Shop for some fishing supplies resulted in a 30 minute education by a sweet older gentleman named Denny.  That 30 minute hook, line and sinker demo was just for catching bass!  There are other supplies required for catching catfish, bluegill or my sons' favorite fish a crappie (they giggle every time). 

Poles packed and expectations high, we headed up to Indian Lake, Ohio for a mini vacation.  Hooks were in the water within minutes of our arrival.  Then, the waiting game began.  The waiting game then lead to the impatient, frustrated and disappointed game. 

 Tensions were high as bait got lost, hooks caught on logs and no fish were biting.  Oh, except for the youngest Vollette who sings to the fish and moves around a lot.  The son who has the most desire and knowledge comes up empty every time.

We did our best to encourage the frustrated fishermen to keep trying.  We asked ourselves, what might God be trying to teach us in this moment?  The lessons we came away with were worth every bit of disappointment.  We learned that even when you make really good plans and are really prepared things don't always go your way.  We learned that there will be people around you not following the plan or the rules and they might end up getting the very thing you are wanting.  You need to keep on the path you know in your heart is right and not compromise your core values.  We learned that if you really want something, you need to persevere and not give up when it gets hard.  We learned that sometimes in life it just isn't your turn and you need to accept what is, make adjustments and move on. 

In the end, our fish story was a success.  The Vollette most wanting to catch a fish was finally victorious. He snagged a fish he had never seen before and loved every minute of it.  It made all the waiting and frustration worth it.  We learned some great life lessons while sitting out on the dock in the early morning mist and the beautiful evening sunset colors.  We packed up our poles and headed home.  Happy, slightly sunburned and a little wiser. 

Stick Families, Vacation Tags and Keeping Up with Everyone's 26.2

Growing up, my friend's family had a huge 2x4 they used as a measuring stick.  It was filled with the markings of their children's growth.  This family had a large house that was always filled with people who didn't live there.  If you were there enough, eventually, your name and measurement were added to the stick. 

When we got married and had our first child, we were gifted with our very own 2x4 measuring stick.  We have since added several years of growth.  We have recently started adding our friends and other family members to the stick.  It is a cool guest book of the people who we do life with. 

In this time of instant and often too much information, I find that we are all using a number of measuring sticks in our lives.  Some of them are obvious.  Did your child get straight A+ grades and make the honor roll this year?  According to Facebook, lots of kids did.  Did you potty train your 18 month old in less than a week?  That friend from high school did.  Are you at the zoo, at a sporting event where your child is the MVP, or going out to eat again?  Seems like everyone else is.  Other measuring sticks we use are a little less noticeable but are still there.  Are you a runner girl, a super swimmer or a mom with 5 happy stick figure kids?  Did you go on several vacations to the town with the palm tree and the moon or visit the always fantastic island of flip flop fun?  Seems like lots of cars have traveled that road.  Then we have the measuring sticks we stand up against in our own minds.  Are we good enough, thin enough, smart enough, nice enough, spiritual enough?  The list goes on. 

I am not saying Facebook, sticker families or vacation tags are bad in and of themselves.  If I could run a marathon, I would probably be first in line to buy my sticker.  It is the unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves when we fail to use the only measuring stick that matters.  What is that measuring stick that matters?  It is most likely different for all of us.  The one that matters to me is the one God is holding up.  The awesome thing about His measuring stick is that it is full of grace and love and mercy.  It is being held by the lover of my soul who has a love for me deeper than I can fathom.  When I forget and start measuring my worth from the bumper of a car or a post on my phone, He gently pulls me back and shows me where my focus should be. 

Take a moment and look at the measuring sticks in your life.  Are they healthy ones that promote growth and change or are they destructive ones that bring guilt and disappointment?  Choose wisely and wave at my sticker family when you see me driving by. 

Free to Fall

Have you ever fallen?  I mean really fallen.  Not tripped or stumbled, but flat out fallen down?  I have a few times actually.  Perhaps I am a little clumsy.  Most of my falls have been down stairs and usually as a result of being in too much of a hurry.  I fell this past week actually.  I slipped on a wet bathroom floor and went down. 

Have you ever fallen....on purpose?  This one is a little more tricky to answer.  Well, I have done that too.  Twice a year, I subject myself to the trust fall.  My husband and I are part of a ministry that does weekend retreats for parents and teens and husbands and wives.  One small but significant activity of the weekend is a trust fall.  If you have never done one, it can be a little intimidating.  At least for me. 

Every time I approach the trust fall tower, I am terrified.  Interestingly enough, it isn't the lack of trust in the people catching me, it is the falling that I struggle with.  I have an issue in my life that God keeps bringing me back to.  Do you have one of those?  Something in your life that you keep giving to God and then find yourself picking right back up?  This issue always comes to the light during the trust fall for me. 

A couple weeks ago, I found myself approaching the platform  Heart beating fast as I climbed the steps.  I was staring my issue in the face trying desperately to let go of it.  This thing I hold onto so tightly has become my identity and without it, I am not sure who I am.  This trust fall experience was different for me in a very significant way.  The person leading the activity was a close friend of ours.  He prayed with me and helped me line up for the fall.  Unlike any other time I have fallen, he kept his hand on my back until I was ready. 

I realized that God is doing the same thing with me.  He is with me as I stand on the precipice looking my fears in the face.  He is in my prayers.  He hears my heart beating fast.  He knows my fear.  He has His hand on my back.  He prepares me for the fall.  He catches me when I finally let go.  And every time I climb up the steps he is waiting for me at the top.  Ready and willing to do it all again.  As many times as I need to.  Not because He has to, but because He loves me and I need Him there.  Free to fall.  Free to live.  Free to be free. 

Broken Hearts and Banana Cream Pie

Recently in our family, someone experienced a sadness that pulled at my heart in a significant way.  As we searched for words of wisdom to help ease the pain of a broken heart, we asked what would make it better.  The answer was simple and surprising to me.  Nana's banana cream pie. 

For years, my kids have been spending time at their grandparent's house.  My mother in law always cooks with and for the boys.  She is very intentional about this time with her grandsons.  One of their favorites is homemade banana cream pie.  Who knew that such a seemingly insignificant act would have such an impact on my children. 

Nana's banana cream pie is nothing special in terms of its basic recipe.  Graham crackers, pudding, bananas and whip cream.  But the love that it is made with, the celebration with which it is served and the thoughtfulness of the tradition is what really makes it special.  The pie is happiness and love.  It represents comfort and the feeling that everything is "okay". 

Sometimes, it is the little things that make the biggest difference.  When I am finding myself caught up in delivering the wow factor for my kids or in keeping up with the expectations of the world, I will try to remember Nana's banana cream pie.  I will try to build into the lives of my children and family in the small everyday tasks and plans.  It is these things that make a life and create a sense of togetherness that big vacations and lots of toys can't do. 

With grocery list in hand, I will head to the store to make sure that I have plenty of ingredients for a pie that will do its part in mending the hurts of life knowing that it is so much more than just a pie.

The Ultimate Monday

New Year's is the ultimate Monday.  I am a Monday starter.  In my world, everything starts on Monday.  Diets, laundry, organizing goals, to-do lists.  Unfortunately, if I mess up on Tuesday...well, there is always another Monday just six short days away.  Why can't I just get back on track on Wednesday?  The answer is obvious, isn't it?  Wednesday is not Monday.  Don't worry, I am well aware of the flaws in this philosophy, but I just can't seem to change it.

So to me, New Years presents itself as the ultimate Monday.  New calendars, resolutions, goal setting and the never ending dream of fitting into all the smaller clothes in my closet.  It is intimidating and scary to this Monday starter.  What if I screw it all up in February?  January is a long way off for starting over. 

I think instead of making resolutions or long to-do lists this year, I will just try very hard to commit to making the next best decision.  To starting over right at the point of failure.  To look at my short comings and disappointments as an opportunity to know what not to do the next time. 

I am going to attempt to not start on Monday.  I will let you know how I am doing.  I must, however, make the confession that today is Wednesday and I started this blog entry on Monday and didn't like the way it was sounding.  Score one for me.  I didn't wait a week to finish it. 

Good luck on all your resolutions and goals for 2013.  Since I am not making any, I should be guaranteed some sort of success. 

Someone to Lean On

Several times a week, I drive by a little farm.  This sweet little farm is home to sheep and goats.  It has a creek running through it with a little waterfall in the middle.  On the top of a slight hill sits a red barn that is shelter to the handful of animals that call this farm their own. 

When my kids were younger and we would drive by, they would always try to pick out the same goats they had previously seen.  They even named one Rocky because he was always standing on top of this big rock in the field.  They would laugh to see the goats sitting in their feed troughs and would wonder about the process of sheering the sheep. 

One sunny but chilly morning, I was driving by the farm and the freshly shorn sheep were out enjoying the day. Two sheep were leaning against the side of the red barn.  What I noticed about these sheep was the way they were standing.  The bigger one was leaning up against the siding and the smaller one was resting his head on the hip of his friend.  They both appeared to be asleep.  They were completely still soaking up the heat of the sun. 

It struck me that there was a trust there.  The second sheep needed to trust that his friend wasn't going to go running off allowing him to fall.  There was a sweet intimacy in the picture created by these creatures. 

It got me thinking about the people in my life.  The people I lean on and the people I allow to lean on me.  Do my relationships reflect a sweet intimacy of trust?  Do I allow space for comfort and support to the people in my life?  Do I allow others to hold me up when I need them? 

If I am honest about these questions, I find I fall short in a couple of areas.  I am not always a consistent support to those around me.  I am prone to isolation and good intentions.  I want to act on those subtle nudges I feel to really be there for people.  Whether it is to send a note, make a meal or plan a coffee date.  I also need to allow the people in my life to support me when I need it.  This is a hard one for most people. Asking for help, accepting their responses to the nudges they feel in regard to me. 

I want to love well.  I want to be the example of support and encouragement to those I am in relationship with.  I know with some practiced intention, I can be both the supporter and the supported and I can do it with confidence, grace and love. 

Our Story is His Story

I saw a t-shirt today that said "write your own story".  At first glance, I thought to myself that it was a pretty cool t-shirt.  But the more I thought about it, the more I didn't like it. 

I am a strong believer in the power of story.  We all have them.  We all have the classic story elements in our lives.  Every person we meet, every place we visit and every decision we make becomes a part of our story. 

Sometimes, whether through a fault of our own or the fault of someone else, we have elements of our story that we would like to edit out.  Parts of our story that are hard to deal with.  Parts that break our hearts and bring us to our knees. 

But it is during those times that I am thankful that each and every chapter in our lives is part of a much greater piece of work, with a much greater purpose than we could ever imagine. 

Today, I am grateful beyond words for the God who knows the ending of my story.  Who has it covered.  Who can redeem it and mold it and rewrite the parts that need to be revised.  Not for any other reason than that He loves me. 

Horses, Paint and Comort Zones

Comfort zones.  We all have them.  We all love to be in them.  For most of us, it is difficult to move out of our comfortable places.  Often times, we don't even realize how long we have been comfortable until someone or something challenges us to make a change. 

This summer, I spent some time doing two things that pushed me out of my comfort zone.  The first activity involves horses and the second involves painting. 

My dear friend Jeannie has started a horse ministry called Freedom Path.  She gracioiusly invited me to attend.  I agreed mostly out of my deep affection for Jeannie.  Not because I love horses.  Until the first meeting, I had very little exposure to these amazing (and big) animals.  I literally cried with fear at the thought of getting on a horse.  I had no clue what I was doing.  With help from Jeannie, I was able to ride around in the ring without falling off.  The next week, I was a little more confident, until I saw the horse was getting on.  Thunder was 17 hands tall!  In horse speak, that means huge!  I was nervous to say the least.  However, by the grace of God and help from my friend, I rode around the ring and didn't fall off.  By the third week, we were settled at a barn and I was given the honor of riding Jeannie's horse, Candy.  Now, at the end of the summer I love horses.  I am able to do all the tack for Candy by myself.  I am only unsure when it comes to tightening the saddle and getting the bit in her mouth.  I not only learned a ton about horses, I also learned a lot about myself.  I like things to be well thought out and planned.  I am not a risk taker.  Although I did do pretty good running up hills with Candy.  The story of my growing love for horses is way too long to share here, but I will say this ministry opportunity has been one of the best things I have done in my life thus far.

The second out of my comfort zone activity I did involved painting.  My mom and I took a class at  Paint By the Glass in West Chester.  You pick a painting and everyone in the class works on the same one with direction from the instructor.  Part of my personality is that I don't like to do things that I am not fairly certain I will be good at.  I already know I am not artistic.  My brother got all those gifts.  I sat in front of the blank canvas and felt very nervous.  It took me several minutes after the initial instruction to put my paintbrush on the canvas.  I did not want to mess up.  At the end of class, I stepped back and tried very hard not to compare my painting to every other painting in the room.  I decided that I liked what I produced and am proud to have it hang in my house. 

Now, I didn't fall in love with painting the way I fell in love with horses.  However, I did enjoy trying two new things that were definitely out of my comfort zone.  You know what?  It felt good.  It felt good to challenge myself.  To not be good at something and develop a skill that is very hard for me...humbly asking for help.   

So try something new.  Do something that stretches you and maybe even scares you a little bit.  Find some supportive friends to help you through it and give stepping out of your comfort zone a try. 

Taking Flight

I have an old beat up watering can sitting on my back deck.  Most years, I plant a small flowering plant in it.  This year, however, a wren decided it looked like a safe and cozy place to build her nest.  We discovered her nest on Easter Sunday.  Everyone in our family was really excited to watch what would happen with our little friend.  We quickly discovered that our 3-year old lab noticed the newcomer also, so we blocked the nest off with one of our patio chairs.  Every few days, we would sneak up on the nest and check on our wren and her progress.  I will admit to screaming my head off at least twice when I didn't see momma bird in there and she flew right out at my face.  Yikes!  One day, we happened upon an empty nest and counted 5 eggs!  Waiting and watching, we eventually spied baby birds!  Not wanting to disturb the nest, we ignored it for about a week. 

This past Sunday morning, we got to witness one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in nature.  All the baby wrens were leaving the nest and learning to fly for the first time.  We quickly and quietly gathered around our back windows to watch the scene unfold.  Momma wren was flitting all over the back yard, encouraging her babies to take flight.  One hopped up on the railing and immediately took off, making the long flight to the trees in the woods behind our house. A second baby followed suit but only made it to our playset.  It sat there resting a bit before it took off for the trees.  A third bird divebombed right into the grass, walking around in a daze before trying again.  Then, we noticed one baby sitting on the leg of the over turned chair.  Nervous and waitng.  Finally, he made it up onto the railing.  Anxiously, we all held our breath waiting for him to gather up his courage to take off for the trees.  His little brother and sister birds were successfully flitting all over the back yard, trying out their new wings with courage.  After what seemed like an agonizing amount of time, our little late bloomer finally took off.  He made it all the way to the trees without falling from the sky.  We cheered and clapped, so proud of him. 

I cannot help but identify with this Momma wren.  We have four sons and we have been since the minute they were born, teaching them to take flight.  Their first steps, riding a two-wheeler, getting on the bus, taking the big test, dealing with peers and most recently our journey into the teenage years. Sometimes, they jump right off the railing and have miraculous success.  Other times, they crash and burn.  Then there are those times where we hold our breath waiting for them to gather the courage to fly.  We are anxiously hoping they make it to the trees safely.  We help them up when they fall and we cheer them on when they make it.  We encourage, we instruct, we watch, we wait, we pray.  The goal is flight.  The goal is four young men who will have integrity and honor and faith.  We give them a safe, cozy place to try out their new wings before they go off into the world.  It is both a privilege and a challenge, every single day. 

Incidently, birds don't return to their nests after the babies leave.  It is this Momma bird's prayer that her babies don't take after our wrens.

Running Red Lights

Last night, I was out late at the movies with a couple of girlfriends.  While on my way home, I got stopped at a red light.  I was the only car in sight.  Absolutely no one was around, it would have been safe to go through the red light. Except, I was making a left hand turn and going through the red would have been illegal.  I thought about it for a few seconds, trying to consider if I should just go.  I was so tired and the closer I got to home, the more I felt my eyes drooping. 

As I was contemplating my next move, I had a thought.  If no one sees me run this light, does that make breaking the rule ok?  I had no risk of getting caught and no risk of hurting anyone, so what was my hesitation?  I thought about life in those few seconds at a red light at 2:30 in the morning.  When any of us are faced with a decision, we weigh the risks.  Will we get caught?  If no one sees, is it ok?  This is a trap meant to set us off course.  How many diets are sabatoged by brownies eaten in secret?  How many marriages are destroyed by affairs begun in secret? 

Deep thinking going on in the wee hours of the morning.  Thoughts I need to be reminded of in the daylight hours as well.  Because even if no one sees my sin, it is nonetheless, still there. 

Oh, and in case you are curious.  I waited for the light to change before heading home.

The Missing Peace

  A couple years ago, my husband and sister-in-law and I were working on a puzzle.  I think it had like 1000 pieces and it was of cows drinking from a fountain in some quaint European village.  Think shades of blue and brown.  Looking back, it was really a great activity for the three of us.  My sister-in-law was living with us at the time and the puzzle became our nuetral ground.  It became the place where we could talk without pressure.  We became obsessed with finishing this puzzle and it even turned quite competitive when one of us discovered that someone had filled in an area we had already claimed as ours. We followed all the puzzle rules.  Separating out the edge pieces and sorting pieces by color.  The problem with this puzzle was the vast amounts of the same colors.  We would think we had all the right pieces for the fountain section, only to discover that there was a tree in the corner with the same shade of green.  We would find ourselves searching for one missing piece with a focused intensity that surprised all of us.  We would stay up late and neglect our responsibilities in our attempt to locate the missing piece.

Earlier this week, I realized that I am missing peace.  In my life, I am missing peace.  I find myself to be feeling a bit blue, a bit out of sorts and easily unsatisfied.  I find myself wandering around seeing all that needs to be accomplished, but finding no motivation to begin a task.  Overwhelmed at the vast amounts of the same color in my own puzzle.  Daily tasks that never change, laundry that is never finished, shoes perpetually not on the shoe shelf.  Instead of looking at the big picture that is my wonderfully blessed life, I am focusing on the little pieces that make up that life.  And sometimes, those pieces are hard to find and don't always fit into the right place.  Those little pieces aren't my whole life, but part of the big puzzle that makes up who I am and what I am all about.  It takes some effort to step back and see the whole picture. 

I have been so focused on making all the pieces fit in exactly the right spot that I have missed what I am hoping to build at the end.  What I am hoping to build is a life well lived.  Children well loved.  A marriage well preserved into old age.  A life full of love, laughter, friendship and a deep abiding faith.  A life of peace.

When we finished that cow puzzle, we stepped back and looked at what we had accomplished.  It was quite pretty, even if the subject matter was cows.  We didn't see all the tiny pieces interlocked.  We saw the whole picture.  The little pieces were all needed to make the picture complete.  Missing even one would have ruined the whole thing.  So all the little pieces that I find myself focusing on and stressing over are a necessary part of my whole.  They all fit together to make me who I am.  But instead of spending all my energy on making them fit, I need to be taking a step back to see where I am in the process of building my puzzle.  Building my life.  Maybe when I learn to do that, I will find that missing peace.

Seasons

I love living in a place where the seasons change.  In each season, I find something to look forward to and to enjoy. 

In the summer, I look forward to flip flops and pool days. As a teenager, I lived my life in the guard chair watching over swimmers as they played in the sun.  In the fall, I look forward to the crisp autumn air and the color bursts of the leaves.  As a teacher, I loved the beginning of the school year, the return to routine and the promise of new students.  In the winter, I look forward to the first snowfall.  The first really big snowfall.  One that covers all the trees and blankets the world in quiet stillness.  In the spring, I look forward to the awakening of the world.  We have woods behind our house and I love looking out and watching as the trees start waking up from their winter slumber.  First the lower level of our annoying and yet pretty honeysuckle trees, then the taller locust trees that fill our backyard with their tall trunks and spotty shade. 

Every spring, I am always struck at how much our lives resemble the seasons.  Sometimes, we are living in a summer experience.  Happy, laid back and loving life.  Other times, we are bursting with colors so vibrant that others around us take notice.  And sometimes, we are in a dark, dull winter.  Wondering if spring will ever come.  But it always does.  No matter how hard the winter days are, spring always comes.  Slowly but with confidence the flowers push up the hard dirt, the grass begins to get greener and the birds return to nest and begin new life.  Sometimes, we have to experience the winters in our lives to recognize the awakening of spring. 

This is me.  Choosing to wake up.  Choosing to come alive after a dark winter.  Pushing up through the dirt and becoming something colorful.  Something alive.

Taking Flight

I am a better version of myself when I am writing.  It doesn't matter if I am writing a journal entry, a letter to a friend, a book or a to-do list.  I was made to express myself through the written word.  I am a more honest person when I write.  If you get a note from me, know that you are getting a bigger piece of my heart than you would be getting if we were talking face to face. 

I have found my journals to be a cranky place to be lately.  My entries are filled with the same complaints and frustrations that I found myself writing about a year ago.  So, I am taking flight with this blog.  Jumping way out of my comfort zone in an attempt to witness some forward motion in my life.  I am not sure if anything I have to say will make any difference to anyone but me, and I am thinking I might be ok with that. 

Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, I am testing my wings here.  We will see what happens.