Project 31 Day 29: My Day, Today.

Day 29.  Write about "a day in the life of me."  (Pics are great!)

Beware. This entry is somewhat boring, as it recounts the daily monotony that I've come to enjoy as my new normal. As I sat here relaying the ins and outs of my day, it occurred to me that things sound sort of hum-drum, but even though there may be moments that feel somewhat hum-drum-like, the moments when everything feels right somehow make up for it. I say all that to say this: read at your own risk. If you get bored, I apologize. Come live a day in our life with us, though, and I promise you won't be bored. We do our best to make the most of each day by being silly, taking chances, trying new things, and exploring our surroundings.

I can't remember the last time I set my alarm clock. Ever since the girl came into my life, I haven't had a need for one. Her sweet murmuring gently stirs me from – or startles me out of – sleep every day, and although I do miss being able to hit the snooze button on my old alarm clock, I have to admit that I don't miss the alarm itself. I always hated it. 

Today was no different. At seven something this morning, the girl started stirring. I had been up with her at 2:30 (after having a bit of insomnia last night), so Joey did a wonderful thing for me—he got her up and gave her a morning bottle, and let me snooze for a few more precious minutes. When I got up, I saw father and daughter sitting in the serene morning light, quietly playing together and simply enjoying being together. It’s a treat for Addie to have play time with her daddy in the morning, and I could tell she was eating it up.

Soon, Joey reluctantly had to go get ready for work, so I found something to occupy Addie's attention while I stumbled through the kitchen in my endeavor to brew my morning coffee, get her breakfast ready, and load up Pandora with what would soon become the soundtrack to our morning. Disney songs played in the background as I sang and made silly faces at the girl while I spooned blueberry banana oatmeal into her anxious mouth. (Did you know there's a Disney station on Pandora? A recent discovery that makes me happy. And who wouldn't want to sing silly songs to this sweet girl?) And while I was in the midst of singing "Kiss the Girl," Joey kissed his girls goodbye and headed out the door.

This is a fairly typical scene—and after it’s over, we get ready to explore our day. Today? Today she took a nap not long after breakfast, which let me take an invigorating shower and drink my coffee in the quiet of the morning. When she woke up, it was just about time for lunch, after which we loaded up the car and drove to the mall to meet Joey for his lunch break. We got my ring cleaned (a long-overdue necessity), shopped for a new lamp (which we didn’t actually find), and window shopped in the kids’ stores, drooling over the new fall fashions that would look so adorable on the girl, that I have to actually turn away from them so that I don’t start feeling like I’m a bad mom for not buying her a closet full of designer baby clothes. (I avoid the mall as much as I can because in all honesty? It sort of makes me feel bad about myself. I slip into feeling “less than,” as if I’m not good enough because I don’t have the latest greatest fashions, and neither does my child.) 

After the mall, we headed out to the grocery store to get formula (why am I always buying formula? The stuff goes so quickly!), and then Addie was ready for a nap by the time we got home. A bottle, a clean diaper, a sleep sack and a binky and Addie was down for the count. I had a few minutes to get a small bite to eat myself before she woke up, uncomfortable and irritated. The good news? She went right back to sleep when I picked her up and rocked her for a minute or two. Another 45 minutes was my own, and I used it to start working on our menu plan / grocery list for the next pay check.

After naptime, I confess that I turned on Veggie Tales and let Addie eat a small snack while watching it. A short time into it, though, a neighbor came over to drop off a book she’d told me about and a recipe she’d raved about. She and her 17 month old son came in and played with us for a little while, and before we knew it, it was nearly time for Joey to come home.

And so, I started washing dishes to make room for the dinner preparations while Addie played in her saucer and watched Sesame Beginnings. And then who should arrive? Joey, to his daughter’s delight. I think that is my most favorite time of the day—the moment when Joey comes home and Addie gets more excited than she has been through the whole day. It makes my heart smile, and I know it makes Joey’s heart soar.

Dinner time. Bath time. Bottle time. Bed time. It went fast this evening. And now here it is, just barely 7:00 and I am enjoying the quiet moment to record the ordinary goings on of my day. And although my life is fairly ordinary, I believe deep down in the heart of who I am that it’s actually quite extraordinary indeed, and I am blessed beyond what I could imagine would ever be possible. Life? Yep, it's pretty darn good.

Pictures worth more than words.

I love this girl.

Moving. Always moving.

Moving. I don't particularly enjoy it. Do you? The packing. The unpacking. The living among stacks of boxes of things you're not sure what to do with (and wonder why you have them at all if you can't figure out where they should go...). The clutter. The chaos. The time it takes to decide where you want to put things. Not feeling at home for awhile. And we've moved three times in two years (this is the third time). And this time, we moved with a baby.  We were fortunate that my parents kept her with them while we made the big push to get things moved in, and here we are finally, at the end of a long day saying goodbye to them as they drove away and left us in our own place. Addie had never lived in a place where they didn't live before. We wondered what this would do to her. We wondered how we would handle having her without the extra hands around. We wondered how being a 25 minute drive away from friends and family would feel, how it would work, how I would deal with being more alone, now.



But in the midst of all the upheaval, I have found new joy in old dusty corners of my heart, the part of my heart that I'd shoved aside, wondering if those dreams would ever become my reality.  They did. They continue to become my reality every day.

I'm learning that there is space to grow and change and learn and be, here. Even though I find myself wondering what our life here will be like when all of the boxes are finally sorted through and the pictures begin to take up residence on our walls, I am also noticing in the midst of very mundane, very ordinary moments that I am stopping to say "Thank you." Thank you to a God who is bigger than my doubts. Thank you to a God whose word is true and trustworthy. Thank you to a God who provides in bigger and better ways than my little mind can wrap itself around. Thank you for the family I get to explore this place with. For the feet that walked into my life and changed it for the better--both sets of them.

I'm still getting used to the sounds and smells of the quiet mornings here. There is a stillness here that we didn't have before. But in the quiet that has accompanied this transition, I'm finding joy--and the joy of new is what I do, after all, like about moving. I'm finding new balance, new purpose, new dreams, new interests, and new reasons to be thankful. (And my, how I am thankful.)

For these reasons, I think I ought to always be moving in one way or the other.

Meant to Enrich

Do you ever have moments where you're just sort of going through the motions of the day and out of seemingly no where, you know God is saying something to you? I do. Sometimes it happens when I'm listening to a song. Sometimes it happens when I see a beautiful piece of art. Sometimes it happens when I'm washing dishes (which I am very much avoiding right at the moment). But most of the time, He uses words (or is it that I tend to hear him clearer through actual words than I do through a whisper in the wind?) I know it's Him because the words become illuminated, like they're burning fire searing them into my mind and heart. And (every time) I ask myself, "Could that really be Him?" and (every time) He says, "Yep."

I don't know a whole lot about Woodrow Wilson (aside from the fact that he was one of our Presidents in years past), and I don't have any clue if he believed in Christ, and I am certain he had no idea that God would use his words decades after he spoke them to get my attention on this sleepy August afternoon (while I sat avoiding the pile of dishes in my messy kitchen). But what I do know is that he was on to something, and his words encouraged and inspired me today. 

And perhaps they'll encourage and inspire you wherever you are today, too, so here they are:

You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.

- Woodrow Wilson

Project 31 Day 28: Insecurity

Day 28.  Write about your insecurities as a woman.

Not so long ago, I wondered whether I would want to be friends with myself.

Have you ever done that? Sat back and thought about who you are--the good, the bad, the boring, the ordinary--and wondered if you would want to spend time with yourself if you happened to be someone else?  Would you accept an invitation to coffee, risking sitting in uncomfortable silence in hopes you would find a kindred spirit sitting across the table from you? I thought about this recently and I decided that yes, I would be friends with me.

It was a relief to come to that conclusion, actually. I cataloged myself, my strengths, my weaknesses, and I decided that I am beautifully imperfect, which makes me unique. Different. It gives me character. And those are the sorts of people I like to be friends with (don't you?).

When I was young, my babysitter Stephanie used to do all kinds of strange, out of the ordinary things to create fun for us, and we used to laugh at her and tell her she was weird. To this, she would reply, "I'm not weird; I'm gifted." And by saying so, she taught me that being true to yourself--who you really are at the core of yourself, quirkiness and all--is a beautiful gift to the world. There is no one else like you. There is no one else like me.

And yet, simply knowing this doesn't always help me feel confident. In fact, for most of my life, I have felt quite insecure about myself and about my gifts. I've questioned the way I look, the way I talk, the words I write, the things I create, the opinions I have. I've wondered if I'm ok--if I'm enough. I know I'm not alone in this. Women's hearts long to know they're enough. Pretty enough, clever enough, smart enough, original enough, intelligent enough. You name it, they wonder it.

 But enough for what? For whom? These are the questions I'm asking now. I've beaten myself up for years over the things that make me uniquely me.  Struggling with these things doesn't just go away with a snap of the fingers, but something that's helped me immensely is getting over myself. I've realized that the world is much bigger than just me (shocking, I know), and most people tend to struggle with the same things as I do. And if we all continue to let these thoughts and doubts take up precious time and space in our thought-life, won't we miss out on something much more important than these things? (Like, you know, other people?)

I came across this quote by Emily Dickinson today, and I love how her simple words capture the choice to put aside the doubt-filled self talk and choose instead to be available to the to being used to bring light and warmth into the life of someone else. 

They might not need me; but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight; 

a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
Emily Dickinson  

We aren't all the same. I'm not like you. You're not like me. Sometimes I might think I'm weird (or someone else might think I'm weird), but really, I'm gifted--and so are you. And my gifts might minister to your specific needs, just as yours might minister to mine.