learning to be brave

I want to be brave. I just don’t want to be brave sometime in the future. But I want to be brave right now in this moment and with every aspect of my life.

Maybe that statement is odd to you. After all, I am foster mom. Bravery is a part of my nature and blood. Except that it’s not.

When we started fostering, I believed I was brave. And it’s possible in that moment – the moment I said yes and accepted the placements we’ve had – I was brave. Except that bravery centered around my abilities and my strengths. The second things got difficult, and I questioned if I was even cut out for foster care, all of that bravery disappeared.

It’s a conversation Justin and I have had several times. He’s noticed this trend in my life and our relationship. I become sure about one thing and then convince him to join in. Then, when things get hard for me, I am immediately ready to throw in the towel and give up. He, on the other hand, is just then realizing that we are where we are supposed to.

I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t always been on the same page. I cannot begin to imagine what life might look like if we had just given up and given in to the feelings of failure.

Recently, I’ve been praying for bravery. I’ve been resting in Jesus and his bravery because I know my bravery (just like everything else that is mine) will fail daily. I also have joined a new movement – a community of women learning how to live bravely – called #fireworkpeople. And they also help me to want to be brave.

Even with praying for bravery, I’ve been hiding a lot. Thoughts pop into my head, and I commence writing an entire post all in my head. Within minutes of putting fingers to the keyboard, the post all but disappears and immense fear takes over. I can’t write this. I can’t share my heart. I could never express foster care the way it deserves to be discussed and described. And what about confidentiality?

Some of the fears are warranted. I want to be extremely careful with confidentiality. I never want to place myself, the littles, or my husband in a place where I have said too much or been too explicit about any one aspect of our lives.

Some of the fears are ridiculous. They are simply a way to remain hidden and to keep others out of the loop in somewhat grasping foster care and how to work through fears with foster care.

I’ve been open about the fact that foster care was much more difficult than I expected. I’ve shared some of the milestones – like making it 100 days with three toddlers in our home. We have another milestone coming up. 365 days of parenting three toddlers.

Many people ask how we are going to celebrate. And that word celebrate absolutely destroys my heart. Because I can’t celebrate the past 365 days.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful for the past 365 days. They have been the most fulfilling, difficult, beautiful, and messy days of my life. As difficult as the transition to motherhood has been for me, it has shaped me into a person I am much more proud to be.

That’s not to say that I don’t still struggle. I do. I struggle with immense guilt. I struggle with thoughts of never being enough. I struggle with the balance of work, school, marriage, kids, and not losing myself in the process. Every day brings some type of struggle. But almost every day brings some beauty with it. I say almost every day because, let’s be honest, sometimes it feels impossible to find anything good and all you do is count down to when the next day will start.

One of my struggles right now is how much loss there is with foster care. Foster care itself begins with loss – the loss of the child’s family, the loss of safety before the child comes into custody, the loss of stability, the loss of knowing what to expect (even if it’s harmful and scary). I simply can’t celebrate that much loss.

There’s another woman out there who is also a mother to the littles in the home. The relationship I have with her is a difficult one. It’s not about if we talk or how much we talk. The difficulty resides inside my head as I grieve her lack of presence in the little’s life. I also grieve that she isn’t able to experience the beautiful moments – like a one-on-one date with one of the boys and ended with us holding hands while watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

A part of me still wants them to be able to go home. Because I know how difficult it will be for them to never again be a part of a biological family. And then a part of me is utterly terrified of the day they might leave.

The littles don’t belong to me. No child belongs to their parents, but especially within the context of foster care when I am sometimes nothing more than a place holder.

So as we approach 365 days of fostering and parenting three toddlers I am aware of the pain in my heart that may never recover if I do have to say goodbye. I am also aware of the fear I have with possibly not knowing what will happen to the littles should they leave my home and my house.  But I can’t remain in my fear. If I did, I would not be able to move forward, and if I remained in my fear, it would hurt the littles.

Foster care is not the child’s fault. No child wants to go through the trauma of abuse and/or neglect and then also the trauma of removal from the home and then movement through a volatile system. And yet the children pay the utmost price. A price that increases when adults and foster parents hide in their fear of what it would be like if they had to say goodbye to littles after caring for them for any length of time.

I don’t think I can say goodbye. But I know I may have too. That’s where Jesus’ bravery comes into play. He is so much stronger and able than I am. And if goodbye is what is said, then He will see me through, my husband through, our families through, the littles through, and the littles biological family through.

I type that all out, and again it seems like I am brave. That I’m almost superhuman. And yet my lip quivers and tears flood my eyes. Because I don’t really want to walk out this life of uncertainty and potential farewells. I also don’t really want to be so closely aligned to hurts and heartbreaks. Yet here I am.

I can’t hide from foster care. I tried for a few months. I remained distant. Instead of opening my heart as wide as it could, I let my care by minimal and hid behind graduate school and work. Something happened, and all of a sudden love burst and I couldn’t pretend to not really care about the littles. The moment that happened I felt every single thing.

Holidays are hard. Because I love these littles but my heart breaks for the families they aren’t able to celebrate with. I do what I can and involve the littles in whatever ways I can. This involvement, I feel, honors the littles and their history.

I think that’s how I see the 365 day mark. It’s not a moment to ignore. It’s a moment to honor because the littles deserve to know they are cared for and important. And by honoring them, I don’t celebrate the loss. Instead I acknowledge it and do my best to ensure that the littles know they are more than just this loss. Yes, they are in foster care. But they are also silly, stubborn, adorable, strong willed, and intelligent. That deserves honor as well.

I guess that’s what being brave is right now. The kind of brave I can only be with Jesus. The kind of brave that puts my heart on the line and welcomes inevitable heartbreak for the betterment of three toddlers.

Not for the Faint of Heart

Life is not for the faint of heart. It's just not. At least life the way I want to live it, the way I feel called and compelled to live it, is not for the faint of heart.

Photograph by AW Photography

Of course there's a portion of me, bigger than I want to admit, that craves comfort. I want the job with every benefit imaginable. I don't want to experience other's pain and struggles daily. I want to come home and spend hours reading or watching TV, in my pajama's, and eat as much ice cream as is humanly possible without gaining a pound.

I want the newest iPhone. I want a closet full of shoes and bags and to live in an exotic city (read: not Oklahoma City). I want to travel and write and be asked to travel and write. I long to be known. Not in a personal way but in a way that I am recognized and that recognition fills my bank account until it overflows.

But when I am quiet, when I distance myself from the world, there's a stirring and longing in my heard to live life the way Jesus would have me. And that sort of life is not for the faint of heart.

I waiver on my heart's status nearly every day. Sometimes multiple times throughout the day. I spend time with Jesus in the morning (second week in a row of starting my day off with the Bible, which is a record) and rest in His presence.

But then I am rushing to dress three littles, play or read books for a few minutes, make getting into the car seats fun (which it never is), have a dance and sing along in the car (current faves: Shake It Off by Taylor Swift and Let It Go), unbuckle three littles and manage to get them all into their classrooms.

After that, there's work, email, grad school, practicum, and a million other items. Sometimes I seek Jesus out. More often, he is a passing thought. More often I'm concerned with not having an iPhone 6, not being thin enough, how much coffee I need to make it through the day, and reading emails while sitting at a red light.

It has to stop. At some point and preferably before I leave this earth and enter into heaven.

Photograph by AW Photography

The stirring and longing on my heart is there for a reason. I have gifts and talents. I have a purpose. I have a life that Jesus needs me to lead. Though I don't quite understand how or why, I have been placed exactly here and exactly at this moment. I have been called into a place where there are no borders, where I am overwhelmed on a daily basis and aware of my lack of strength, where I have no choice but to fully trust and rely on him.

When I listened to Oceans today on the way to work, the words slammed into me and the tears poured out of me. I so badly want to be in control of my life. I so desperately want to plan for everything that could happen and account for it all. And while I know that God has blessed me with forthsight and the ability to fight for the voiceless, I am not God. I am only me, the tiniest drop in the ocean, and I have to remember that God is bigger than any of my plans, any of my fights, and any impact I could have (or would have/should have/have had) on another's life.

The Busyness of Summer

This summer was the busiest I ever experienced. Busier than the summer I worked multiple jobs. And than the summers I worked as a camp counselor. Busier, even, than the summer I taught in China. I didn't enjoy this summer. I didn't really live this summer. I survived.

Of course there were moments I'll never forget. Experiences I am beyond grateful for. But those experiences were overshadowed by long working hours, endless deadlines, mountains of reading, and practicum hours. In addition, we participated in an intensive 10 week initiative to learn how to better parent while the oldest child placed with us learned different techniques to help her regulate, express herself, and establish that she was in a safe place.

Those 10 weeks changed our lives. We walked in a broken, messy, barely holding it together family and walked out with newfound hope. I will always be grateful for the experience- for what it taught me but more for what A gained from it. She came alive in those 10 weeks, and she invited me fully into her world. I'll never be able to describe how much it means to share the relationship with her I do now. No matter what happens I will always carry love for her and remember her as my buddy. I'll always see her reaction to "The Little Mermaid" on stage and how she loved her first big girl haircut.

Yet, I felt like a failure during those 10 weeks. There was a sense of failure before the 10 weeks started, and there is still a lingering sense of failure. Not because of anything related to the sessions but more because of what I wrestle with - all of which became even more evident during this summer.

Filling my schedule up comes naturally. Being an introvert at heart, who desperately longs for time alone to recharge, you would think I would welcome an empty schedule. Instead I tend to pile on as many tasks as I can feasibly handle with a few more for good measure. I do occasionally say no. But I usually say "no" to the wrong things and "yes" to things that might not matter quite so much.

It took a few weeks after we finished the counseling and learning for this all to come to light. More than that, it took leaving town for five days and turning off all email notifications on my phone as well as setting my iPhone to "do not disturb" to fully comprehend just how busy I had made myself and just how it had weighed me down.

I can't really remember the last time I willingly took time off - even for just a weekend. I've certainly planned to take off and have told those around me that I was going to take off, but I haven't really practiced that. It's one of the reasons I feel I had knee surgery back in 2013 (beyond, you know, blowing my knee out completely).

The busyness of the summer was tearing me to pieces. It was wreaking havoc on my family, my marriage. I felt it every Saturday my husband played with the kids while I worked or studies. I felt it every weekday I ignored the kids to study. I felt it when they exclaimed they wanted to go "bye bye" with daddy but not with me because he was always a part of the most fun times.

All of it I did to myself. Some I could more easily step away from. Other aspects were more difficult to untangle myself from. We all make choices, and some of my choices led me to a summer of non-stop studying and paper writing on top of parenting.

I know what's important. At least, I like to think I do. I say all the right things, and I work to be as fully present as I am able. But my heart goes to the grades on my papers for meaning rather than looking at the life I am living and the people (little and big) living out life in front of me.

I had to take a final when we were on vacation this August. I was able to change the date of the final to our first night of vacation rather than the second night of our vacation. But still. As soon as we arrived at a beautiful resort, I rushed into the room and settled into the desk area to complete my final instead of enjoying the beauty and the silence that was time away with just my husband. It was truly the perfect picture of the summer.

Since returning from our trip, I've silenced some of the remaining busyness. I've stopped taking on so many duties at work. I've enjoyed time spent in front of the television. I've made memories with the littles in our home. I've even read a few books.

I've heard Jesus in the silence and the stillness that weaves through my daily life. During the most intense moments of the summer, I struggled to believe in his presence. I thought it was because He had forgotten me, but it was me who had silenced him while focusing on everything else. I made the choice to make time for everything but Him.

Getting out of town allowed me the opportunity to breathe. There was a noticeable change to my person. I rested. My head felt clear for the first time. The strength I depleted during the summer returned. I connected with my husband and held coherent conversations. I even got to meet Jen Hatmaker.

It's been a few weeks since we returned. I've battled the busyness. I've spent hours on the couch. I've continued to connect with Jesus. But my mind is swimming. I'm stuck between purging our house and de-cluttering with this intense desire to take on a million projects - spreading myself entirely too thin.

We're in a stage of a transition. I'm transitioning with school and my practicum. We're transitioning with the littles (always and amen). We're discussing the future and what we think that looks like (simply so Jesus can blow it up and show us just how wrong we were). We're engaging with other families and even more with orphan care. There's so much happening. And while I'm terrified that I'll get swept up in all the transitions and lose sight of the constants, I'm also terrified of remaining still and quiet. Yet I know the stillness and quiet is exactly where I'm meant to press in.

How do you bid farewell to your reaction to life when you have no choice but to just see your commitments through? How do you balance the quiet with the insisting assignments and projects? How do you invest where you are when there's also a future to plan? How do you engage in the life you've been given when the life looks wildly different than anything you dreamed?

If you've got the answers, I'm all ears. Until then, I'm going to try to rest, to plan my time wisely, and to make as many memories as I can..... (and maintain a 4.0 in grad school because I can't quite give that up).

Oh wow. You are busy.

This post originally appeared on Not Quite Qualified on March 9, 2014. Like so much... much is the same and much is different.

I hear those words on a daily basis. It's usually followed by "I don't know how you do it." And I sometimes nod. Other times I want to cry and curl up in a ball and just hide under the covers to watch endless episodes of Parenthood for days on end. Somedays, I feel like I must be doing something right - that the fact that I can juggle so much is a testament to my personality.

We went to church today, and I was able to meet one of my sweet friend's mom's after the service. We talked about our littles and some of the day-to-day struggles, and after I delved a bit into my life, my friend's mom turned to my husband and asked him if he was the Stay-at-Home Dad. It was a sweet question and completely warranted. It's one we've wondered about endlessly, and we've decided for now that attending daycare (and therefore both working full-time) is the absolute best thing for our three littles.

Still, there is no way I would ever be able to begin to live my life were it not for my husband's support. He's given up more days and nights than I could ever express. He's taken all three kids to McDonald's PlayPlace or down the street to the park more times than I could even begin to count to allow me time to read and to study and to pick up the house. He shoulders so much in an effort to provide me a bit of sanity. Because when I'm not around the littles, I'm usually working or studying. It's rare that I get even a minute to myself. Unless of course I'm sick. And then I watched 12 episodes of Parenthood in one day.

It's not to say that we don't share the responsibilities. Because we do. And it's not to say that he doesn't also get time to himself. Because he does. But still, at the end of the day, Justin takes much onto himself and becomes second so that I can pursue social work and my master's degree in social work.

I wouldn't be able to do any of this without him. Not the piles of laundry. Not the endless dishes. Not the toddler themed dinners. Not the nighttime routines (which he did by himself last night so I could study). Not the sick days. Not the doctor's appointments. Not the court dates.

Often I think about giving it all up. About forgetting grad school specifically. And I wonder about the career path I've chosen. There are times I'm sure Justin wishes I would give it all up. But he would never ask me to or demand that I do. Because, somehow and some way, it works. this crazy, hectic, always going life, works.

We do get tired though. There are nights when we can barely crawl into bed. There are mornings when it hurts to wake up and times when we both feel sick from pure exhaustion. And we ask and wonder (sometimes out loud and sometimes silently) if we can truly do this for the rest of our lives.

Usually, when we get to the ends of our ropes, God does something to show us that He's still there. And then He lengthens our ropes - sometimes a lot and sometimes just a little. But always the rope is lengthened.

How thankful am I for that. How grateful am I that in those many, many moments of weakness and guilt and questioning Jesus is there to tap me on the shoulder and whisper (and sometimes yell) in my ear that He's bigger than all of it and that if I would just let go and focus on Him....

I spend most days feeling guilty. I feel like I am constantly taking time away from some aspect of my life. If I work too much, I lose out on time with the littles and my husband. If I hit my snooze button for an hour (or longer), I miss out on time with Jesus. If I eat dinner with my family, I might not answer a call for work. If I go to bed early, I likely will not finish all of the reading I have for grad school. It's a continuous cycle, and I feel lost inside of it - much like socks go missing each time a load of laundry is started. And yet, somehow, it's all alright. Just like it's okay for socks to somewhat mismatch, it's okay for me to go to work with no make-up and to miss picking up the littles from daycare. It's okay because I'm still here - doing the best that I can, just as every other mother and father does.

Jesus has been reminding me that guilt does not come from Him. He's also repeatedly showing me that He has brought me to where I am that and that He placed Justin in my life so that we could walk through this season (and many others) together. Jesus has also been reminding me that I do so much more than I think I do and that I do it for the benefit of my family.

I take care of much of the behind-the-scenes matters. I go to WIC appointments. I schedule doctor appointments. I pick out clothes. I manage to get all three littles to daycare in time for breakfast (most days). I do the laundry (most weeks). I wipe snotty noses. I know the tell-tale signs of littles who are getting sick. I rock the littles when they wake up at night. I answer calls from the daycare and coordinate with Justin on who is picking which sick little up. I dedicate time to my job, to people's lives. I read. I study. I write papers. I edit other's papers. And through it all, I love people.

I love my husband. I love our littles. I love my clients. I love those I work with. I love my friends and my family. I even love the people that often seem and feel unlovable (though I have to constantly go to Jesus for that one). I do a lot. I am busy. But we all are. And Jesus works in us and teaches us through it all.

There's no life that is inherently harder than someone else's or busier than someone else's. At least, that's how I believe. Yes, some schedules require a bit more maneuvering and creativity. Yes, some people fall on harder times while others seem to sail through life. Yes, some people get sick with cancer and those don't. But we are all given the lives we are for a reason. I would struggle to walk in the shoes of a stay-at-home mother of one, and she might stumble in my shoes. And that's a beautiful thing. It's a reminder of who Jesus is that we are not all called to live out lives that directly resemble one another.

The other thing that Jesus has been reminding me of? How beautiful it is to remain silent. How wonderous it is to listen. I'm still working on this one as I have a tendency to talk, talk, talk, but He's showing me that it's good not to respond and that it's okay to simply emphasize. And to remind myself, and anyone who might listen, that Jesus is over it all and that He sees our lives - how different and how similar they are - and knows what each of our specific needs are.

So, yes. I am busy. But so are you. And Jesus? He's the busiest of them all.

I'm Coming Back. Ever so slowly.

I'm coming back to the blog world. Ever so slowly.

Truly, I never really left. I just walked away from this space in the hopes of redefining myself in another space. In other words... I got scared and I ran. Which I'm really quite good at it. Except I have two bum knees and can't run so fast.

After several months, God caught up with me. I rested. And now, all of a sudden, I can't shake this ever present feeling that I need to write. That even though I am busy and filled to the brim and not quite sure what is going on in my own life half of the time.... I need to write.

So here I am.

Except I'm first going to post the heartfelt posts I originally wrote on the blog I ran away to (Not Quite Qualified) and then start with some new musings and writings. GULP. I hope you'll stick around. And I hope my words will no longer stick in my throat, my heart, my stomach, really anywhere but on the pages they are meant to fill - both literally and figuratively.

A lot has changed over the past almost eight months but a lot is also the same.

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I Don't Know How You Do It (originally posted on March 7, 2014) at http://notquitequalified.net

"I don't know how you do it."

Those seven words are often uttered with a mixture of awe, confusion, frustration, and slight judgement. Whether people mean for those words to come out in such a way is an entirely different matter. I can not speak for another person. I can only share how I feel on the receiving end of the words.

I'm no different than anyone else. Truly. I struggle just as much (if not more) than other people. I have my good days, and I have my bad days. There are times when I get everything done, and there are more times when it feels as though every aspect of my life is crashing down. More often than not, it feels as though my body is under water and my head is slipping beneath the waves - my arms and legs too sore and worn out from treading water for so long to be able to hold me up above the surface for even just a second more.

They say that in our weaknesses He (meaning Jesus) is strong. I can't argue against what they say because I know it to be true. But often I can't see his strength as I am too busy holding onto my own.

The thing is that I am good at balancing multiple tasks. I tend to thrive when I'm busy, overwhelmed, under pressure, and all too scattered. During the moments of silence and solitude, I struggle to get anything done. But what I'm finding now is that this thriving is slowly giving way to (what I feel is) failing.

I can't keep my head above water much longer. But I'm not so tired that I'm read to see just how strong Jesus is.

Maybe it's a woman thing. It could be a social worker thing. Or possibly a foster parent thing. Either way, I am all three.

And no, I don't know how I do it. Most days, I don't feel like I do it. And that it could be anything at all. It's parenting, it's responding to any number of crises in a reasonable amount of time, it's being married (because, yeah, I'm a wife too), it's studying or writing a paper (did I mention I'm in grad school?), it's pretending to wash, fold, and put away the neverending amounts of laundry, it's cooking a somewhat healthy dinner.

In my weakness, He is made strong. You would think I'd be about ready to fully realize the truth of that often overused statement. You would also think that my arms would be chiseled to near perfection (my thighs, stomach, and butt too) from all the treading of water. But you'd be wrong there, too.

For whatever reason, I am here in this stage of life. It's a stage of life that makes absolutely no sense. A stage of life that leaves me speechless and overwhelmed on a daily basis. A stage of life that constantly results in me whispering "oh my" and looking around in the hopes of understanding at least some of the craziness that makes up my reality.

The only thing I know is that I have been called. I have been called to the frontlines of the orphan crisis. I have been placed in the positions I hold. Even on my worst days (and those seem to be increasing in number), God has decided that I am one of the ones He has sent. And while it's more than tempting to turn around and run the other way (or to just go to Mexico and peace out with a margarita for forever), I'm staying where God has placed me and praying that He might provide me with clarity and knowledge that supersedes anything I could possibly hope to create.

God does not call the qualified. Instead, He qualifies the called. I am the ever changing proof of the truth in those statements as I am not qualified for any of the roles in my life.

Welcome to the insanity, the craziness, the neverending questions. Welcome to learning that I can't do it. Welcome to my accepting of the call in the hopes of becoming maybe the tiniest qualified.

Foster Care and Pride Don't Mix

I've desperately wanted to give up foster care and parenting every single day over the past seven days. I've felt as though it just wasn't for me. That I was never cut out to be a mom.

I have missed my old life every day as well. I've longed for just two hours alone with my husband, for the chance to sit down at a restaurant and eat an entire meal and drink at least two glasses of wine. I've found myself easily frustrated and wondering why we even got into foster care. I've thought that I'm doing more harm than good in the three littles lives.

It's been a rough week. Not that any of the {almost} four weeks that we've had Baby T, Little C, and Little A have been easy. Because they haven't been anything but terribly difficult.

All mom's feel this way. At least that's what I've been told. Every mom feels inadequate and as though they aren't exactly cut out for guiding little people through the ups and downs of toddlerhood, childhood and adolescence. But it's been hard for me to truly believe that anyone really understands just how inadequate I feel.

I was talking venting to my mom about it all. And as I did so, I mentioned that it wasn't just up to me. That there was Justin to consider and how good he is with kids. Because he is an amazing dad and does so many things much better than I ever could.

He's the only reason we haven't given up. I'd be out the door and on my way to a life of fancy freeness if it weren't him to remind me, usually gently and sometimes not so gently, that we are here, in the midst of the struggle and the darkness, for a purpose and that we are not to run away.

We're realizing more and more, though, that we need help. And here's the thing... I hate to ask for help.

I know everyone says that. Just like everyone says they are terrible parents. But the truth of the matter is, asking for help is the most difficult thing for me. And when I do ask for help, if someone says no in a certain manner, I take it personally. That no tells me there is something wrong with me. It's not that that person doesn't really want to help; rather it's that that person doesn't want to help me.

It's pride. And a lot of other ugly things. And God is ripping it all to shreds.

I'm not at a place where I am ready {or able} to stay home and not work. I'm also not at a place where I am willing to give up graduate school. Because if I did either of those things, I would resent and regret it for the rest of my life. I refuse to let more resentment and regret infiltrate my life.

So I need help. Which means I need to get over myself and over this pride and suck it up when people say no (even when the way they do so hurts) and ask for more help.

The help we need is sometimes spur of the moment - like this past Friday when Baby C couldn't go to daycare due to a fever and rash.. All a product of his allergy to penicillin that we didn't know about. That's one thing that sucks about foster care; you have no real clue about any of the medical history.

Other times the help is tangible and something easily planned for. Like meals and laundry and cleaning our house.

Regardless of what kind of help it is, I can tell you that we need it all the time. Just this weekend, Justin and I began discussing how we might pay for someone to help us approximately 20 hours per week. We also, just tonight, began discussing having someone clean our house on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. We also need help with laundry.

There just isn't enough time to do everything. Having three littles, all with their specific needs, is time consuming and daunting and exhausting. Add into the three all the past traumas and you get a recipe for sleepness nights and more darkness than you could ever expect to see in such small people. And oh the laundry and toys everywhere. I am jealous of all the people who have just one child; they have no idea just how good {and easy} they have it.

Justin and I so appreciate all the prayers. We need those, too. We need them constantly. But our tangible needs are there, too. I'm just hopeful and prayerful that somehow those tangible needs will be met.

So please join us in praying for the following five specific items. There are more. When you're fostering kids and in the midst of the sort of life we are, there are always more, but I figure five is enough for now. And feel free to reach out to us with solutions for the things we need; I'm lying down my pride {and will remind myself to continue to do so - hourly} and reminding myself that God will meet us where we are and that it's good to ask for help.

1. Part-time help. Approximately 20 hours a week (maybe less) and preferably for cheap (or free!). Someone consistent so our littles don't have to experience too much change.
2. House cleaning. At least bi-weekly if not weekly. Preferably cheap (or, again, free!).
3. Laundry service. This is the bane of my existence and one of my least favorite things in the entire world.
4. Meals. It would be incredible to not always have to worry about cooking. This would also ensure that Justin and I actually ate dinner because most nights we take a few bites and give the rest to the littles.
5. A new car {no, but seriously...}. Preferably one that seats 7. Something like a GMC Arcadia.

The Truth About Being a Foster Mom

This past week has been hard. Difficult. Excruciating. {Nearly} Impossible. Exhausting. Rough.

I've wanted to give up nearly every day. In fact, had it been up to me, I would have.

It all started on Wednesday night. We had our first.. episode.. with Little A. I had a feeling, a rumbling in my gut that told me, things were not going to end well that evening. At first, I thought it was just my negative side. Or the side of me that just wanted to be at home rather than at our church's celebration. Then, after Justin arrived with the littles, I knew it was more than just that side of me.

I tried to change my attitude; though, to be honest, I didn't try quite as hard as I could have. But we realized (a little too late) that our littles were not yet ready for such a big outing, one that took them away from their schedule and thrust them into an entire universe of unknowns.

When we got home, the unknowns continued. Justin and I are still rather new to this whole parenting thing and this whole foster parenting thing, and as newbies, we have quite a lot to learn still. This includes how to handle unknowns when arriving home. {Note: It does not involve trying to bribe children with cookies and milk and television/movies.}

Little A is still learning how to effectively communicate, and we are still learning how to understand and communicate back. Wednesday night showed how much we all have left to learn.

Wednesday was the second day I felt as though I weren't sick after a Sunday and Monday of feeling rundown and nauseous.  But that ended that evening.

I felt like I took on every emotion Little A had and felt it in my {lack of an} immune system. I was run down. And run over as though an 18-wheeler plowed through me. That all continued into Thursday, and I ended up at the doctor where I was diagnosed with an ear infection, strep throat {apparently my tonsils were utterly grotesque - so much so he didn't need to test me to confirm it was strep}, and an upper respiratory infection.

Needless to say, I spent the next 72 hours on the couch, alternating between tears and sleep, shivering and sweating, eating only chicken noodle soup and struggling to swallow. It was not pretty.

Being sick and trying to parent is virtually impossible. Especially with Little C on antibiotics from an ear infection diagnosed the weekend before and Baby T being placed on antibiotics the Friday of my sickness for an ear infection. Needless to say our house was not the most enjoyable this week, and my husband is an absolute miracle as he cared for me and for three kids predominantly on his own all week and weekend.

Did I also mention I have still been working - other than when I was on my death bed? And that it's midterms as well? Whoops.

I feel like I'm failing at everything I do. Work, {foster} motherhood, graduate school. Life in general.

And while I may not be doing everything as well as I would like, I'm still doing it. That alone should mean a lot. And it does.

Life might be easier if I took something out of the equation. Working. Or graduate school. Even foster parenting. And last week I was ready to take something out of the equation. My husband, however, stopped me. He shouldered the burden and the responsibility. He nursed me back to health. He held our family together. And he joked with me that my "not good enough" for graduate school will likely translate into a B paper instead of an A paper {which is still up for debate}.

So many people have said we're doing a great thing. That they're proud of us. And I want to tell them that it's all a facade. That really we're floundering and struggling. Because, here's the thing, I do not have it all together.

I get mad. I bite my tongue - almost until it bleeds. I clench my teeth. I use the wrong tone. I get quite exasperated. I cry {a lot}. I cringe when the kids wake up before 7am. We eat too much macaroni and cheese. I don't push vegetables {because the kids won't eat them}. I buy canned fruit. Frozen pizza and frozen lasagna have become staples. Little A's hair is constantly messy, and Little C's jeans sometimes fall off when he walks. I go three to four days without washing my hair.

And I daily {multiple times a day daily} ask for forgiveness. I also pray - like all of the time.

Foster care isn't for the faint at heart. Not only are you parenting but you are parenting kids who don't really belong to you, who might leave the next day, whose history you'll never quite get.

But life also isn't for the faint at heart. Nothing is.

So I'm going to stand firm - at least tonight. Tomorrow I might be filled with tears, wrestling a stuffy nose and crying out to God. But tonight, I'm going to remember that He is present and thank Him for a husband who is strong enough to tell me no and strong enough to nurse me back to health with lots of chicken noodle soup from Chik-Fil-A.

{Thank you to everyone who blessed us over the past week. Thank you for the dinners, the prayers, the hugs, the text messages, the Facebook posts, and the understanding. I'm overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness.}

Two Weeks In

This Thursday, October 31st, marks two weeks since our worlds were turned upside down by three children ages 3, 2 and 1.

Some things we knew to expect. Other things we had no idea. All of it has been more than worth it.

We have been blessed by our community, blessed by friends, blessed by family, and wrapped in a sort of love that words simply can not explain. There have been dinners provided, free babysitting, clothing donated, diapers delivered, car seats installed, and gift cards/money received. The prayers have been felt and continue to be felt and needed.

In the past two weeks, we've ventured out to Chik-Fil-A and the park as a family of five. I have managed to get all three littles dressed and to school (by myself) by 8:30am. Justin has managed to get all three little to sleep by himself; he has also managed to pick up all three littles from school (by himself) and has ventured out to the McDonald's PlayPlace with only the three littles. Clearly, he is the braver of the two of us.

We constantly (or maybe I just constantly) find ourselves wondering how we can keep this up. Three littles, two dogs, two full-time working adults, and one part-time graduate student. And yet... Here we are.

We made the decision, before these three walked into our house, that we would be committed. To them and to the plan that DHS decides to pursue. When asked how long we will have these three, our answer is silly but honest "a few months to forever."

And really, it could be just a few weeks. There's simply no knowing. This is both comforting and terrifying.

At the end of the day, it's not up to Justin nor I to save these three. It's not up to any foster parent to save any child. All we can do is stand in the gap and love the children in foster care with a fierceness that stays with them long after they leave our homes - even if they don't quite understand that love or remember our names or faces.

Our three littles, Baby T, Little C and Little A, were apprehensive (at best) when they first walked through our doors. Their eyes were wide, and it was evident that they didn't know exactly who we were or what was happening. Justin and I decided to call one another by our first name's when talking to the littles and talking about one another to the littles. They, however, decided we were Mama and Daddy.

All three have come out of their shells in the less than two weeks we've known them and loved them. We've discovered Little A loves to dance. She only falls asleep after I tell her a story and pray with her. She asks where I am if Justin picks them up at daycare without me. She will try any vegetable but spits out anything that isn't corn (and also picks through her food when I hide vegetables in it - like spinach in spaghetti and peas in macaroni and cheese).

Little C got sick over the weekend with a double ear infection. He is the most sensitive of the three, so we're trying to tailor our parenting to better meet his needs. He likes to fall asleep with someone stroking his hair (or his face). His favorite food is strawberry yogurt and he will lick the container empty.

Baby T is just now 18 months. He is still crawling though he will take the occasional step so long as he thinks no one is watching. His favorite thing to do is play with the remote controls and mess up whatever Little A is watching and also to crawl up and down the stairs. He also likes to "race" me up the stairs at night. He will eat just about anything, but he loves to feed the majority of his food to our dogs.

The past {almost} two weeks have been anything but perfect. I constantly feel as though I'm in over my head. I question every parenting decision, every conversation, and even the outfit choices. I wonder about the birth parents and how they're handling all this transition. I pray multiple times throughout the day.

It would be easy to walk away. Easy in the sense that life could return to normal. I could study whenever I wanted. It would be no problem to simply run out for dinner or for ice cream or for coffee. We could enjoy date nights throughout the week.

But the thing is, even with as stressful as this all can be, the last thing I want to do is walk away.

I have a lot of peace about our decision to foster these three. Justin regularly remarks how this all feels as though it was meant to be, and I have to agree. We're not looking too far into the future and are instead enjoying now and enjoying the stability we can provide for Baby T, Little A and Little C.

Jumping Back Into Foster Care

I stumbled across the Mother Theresa quote pictured above a few days ago, and it resonated with me. The words reminded me of how important it is for us all to live missionally and reach out to others. Then, I listened to a sermon regarding the purpose of life by Jen Hatmaker on Sunday morning, and it hit me in a way I needed. Both Mother Theresa's and Jen Hatmaker's words were a reminder that we are created to do things - not to just think about what we should do or to find our calling in work and home life. But instead we find our calling in Jesus and then we go do.

On Sunday evening, I sent an email to our foster care worker and explained that we were ready to open our home back up. We requested one child but said we could consider two children under the right circumstances.

The call came Monday morning - not even a full twenty-four hours since our re-commitment to foster care. There were three children - all under the age of three. And then the question "would we consider taking them?"

I wanted to say no. But I also found myself wanting to say yes. Sometimes you have moments of clarity and all of sudden you just know this is an adventure you are supposed to take. This was one of those moments. I explained that we would likely be open to two children but that I wasn't sure about three. I said I would talk to my husband and see what I could discover about child care.

And then I took to Facebook. Within minutes, I was flooded with tangible support from friends. Offers to help clean, offers to cook, questions of what do we need, and I knew we couldn't say no. I also found a daycare, within minutes of our house, willing to take all three children. It took a few more hours for my husband to call back, and when he did, he said he also felt like he couldn't say no.

So we said yes.

The children are supposed to be placed on Thursday evening. We still don't quite have everything we need. Some items we had before have gone missing, and we are trying to replace those while also trying to acquire more big ticket items - like a toddler bed, a dresser and changing table combo, car seats and a glider/rocking chair. And then there are the items we will need lots and lots of - diapers, food, bottles, formula, milk.

It's not the children being placed with us that is overwhelming me. It's the money and the things. It's all the questions of how are going to afford this or that. I understand the concept of God giving me (and us) the strength to do all things, but I struggle to grasp the concept of Him also providing in other ways.

So I'm leaning into Him. I'm praying for wisdom. And I'm just praying - period. Because this journey we're taking is not one to be entered into lightly. This journey is not one that makes any sense. And this journey is one we wouldn't have picked for ourselves. God, though, has picked it for us.

We wouldn't be taking this all on if it weren't for the friendships we've been blessed with. In the past 10 months, we've grown close to so many and found true community with some of the most generous and caring people. We've also received grace and offers of assistance from friends of the old. And we've been overwhelmed - knowing that God's hand is truly on this adventure.

Neither Justin nor I like to ask for help. We'll gladly take it but reaching out and saying "hey we need THIS" is not something we're particularly good at. Our pride is being left out in the cold now, and we are actively seeking help. Just last night, Justin said he doesn't feel guilty asking for help now - not like we have in the past - because this is an instance in which we'll need more help than we could ever even ask for.

the most hated person in the room

I am the social worker. Often I am the most hated person in the room. The one responsible for ripping families apart and placing children into foster care. I take recommendations to the court and am then at the mercy of the judge and whatever decision he may make. I have been the social worker for almost five years now. It is a role I never meant to play, and yet, it is a role I know I was born to play.

I am a foster parent. A non-relative kinship foster parent caring for a 17-year-old and a 2-year-old. Often I am the most hated person in the room. The one who is not quite a parent but also more than a friend. I care for a child who does not belong to me and work with a broken system. I hear insults hurtled my way and am constantly reminded that I do not have a family of my own. That I am not the "real" family to the children in my home.

My entire life is foster care and adoption. When I go to work, I do so as a social worker. Both for a private adoption agency and then also at a state run group home. When I return home, it is to foster care where I provide all the necessities to a child that could be gone tomorrow.

There are times when I wish my life were different. Time when I wonder why God has etched foster care and adoption so deeply into my heart. Times when I truly wish I had a real desire to have a normal family - the kind of family that involves marriage and then a baby that looks like me in the baby carriage.

But I do not have that desire.

Instead, I desire to have children who look nothing like me. I want the sort of family that makes no sense to anyone else. I want to invite children of all ages into my home and love them the way Jesus loves me knowing that they might walk away from me or be taken away from me. I also want to love the broken families - the ones that have somehow wound up in the broken system that is foster care.

And I want to love others like me. The ones that struggle daily to not snap at the children that do not belong to them. The ones that aren't sure how to handle a screaming and crying child that can not be consoled following a visit with their "real" family. The ones who never meant to do this but were thrust into foster care.

God has placed a burden on my heart. It is one I can not ignore even though I have tried and tried. It has been just over five years since I first became the social worker, and I have spent every day of the past five years running from the field. Once I stopped running in June of this year, God allowed my heart to burst for those who find themselves fostering and adopting as well as for those who find themselves in need of foster care and adoption.

It has been just over a month since we received placement of our two girls. A month of adjustment. A month of conversations. A month of trying to be a mom while also making sure not to take place of the birth mom. A month of my heart breaking for all the other children who do not have a place to call home. A month of wondering if I can truly do this. A month of praying and allowing God to lead more than I ever have.

And in the days of being both a foster parent and a social worker, I have seen that it works. I have seen changes in our girls. I have felt my heart swell with pride when the 17-year-old explained that my entire life is foster care and adoption. Not because it's me but because ultimately God gets the glory in the story. And because my story just might speak to someone else and spur in them a desire to help.

We do this because He has called us to it. I am able to foster because He has given me the strength. I am able to be the executive director of an adoption agency because He has blessed me with the knowledge and experience.

I have no idea where this adventure will take me. It could be to graduate school at the University of Southern California. It could be eventually back to the Oklahoma Department of Human Services. It could be somewhere else entirely.

Wherever it takes me, I am prepared to be the most hated person in the room because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that God created me to be both a social worker and a foster parent.

foster care & adoption - it's a JESUS thing (also known as why i may lose friends & followers)

Lately, I find myself struggling. It's not a bad struggle really. Rather it's a spiritual struggle. I'm trying to rectify what the Bible says with the way we live our lives.

The Bible calls us to be missional. The entire preface of the Bible, the story of the gospel, is for us to GO. We are called to talk to people, invite people into our lives. So much of my life has been spent not being missional. Sure I've worked in positions that allowed me to help people. I've been a social worker. I've fought for children and families. I've helped individuals get through the tangled web that is the foster care approval process. But I've done all those things as my job, as what I say I am called to. Still I've been able to clock out and leave it all behind.

Stepping out in faith and beginning the approval process for foster care has shattered my ability to leave it all behind. Instead, I'm constantly fired up. I'm ready to take on this challenge. I want to share my story with people. I get angry when people say things about wondering why we're fostering. And I get protective of the 9,000+ children in the state custody of Oklahoma.

This is why I went to work for the state right out of college. This is why God entwined my story with Justin's. This is why I've been placed at the church we attend.

My heart is for the orphan. All of them. For the children who are forgotten. For the children who have never been loved. For the children who need someone to fight for them. For the children who, at no fault of their own, have been born into situations more difficult than we can imagine. And I've tried to think of how to express my heart without hurting people's feelings. I've tried to be understanding that foster care is "new" to people we know. I've tried to accept that we are weird because of how we're growing our family.

I can't really do that anymore. I'm sick of being understanding. I'm sick of smiling through hurtful things people say and then crying when I get home. I'm sick of not calling people on their lack of care for the orphan. And I'm trying to figure out what to do with these feelings. I'm trying to come up with the words. It's hard, though, to summarize how I feel about all these things.

And so I've had writer's block. Because all I can think about is foster care and orphan care. I'm consumed with fear, excitement, and God's peace over inviting two children into our family. I'm distancing myself from people who don't support us because I simply find it hard to be around them. And I'm determined to make sure that these kids, the ones in our home and the others in custody, know that they are loved.

If people are going to say hurtful things to me, ask me questions that sting, chances are I won't want our kids around them. Because I refuse for any child to feel that they are less than simply because of how they joined our family. And I feel like a lot of people look at those of us who foster as less than. Which is not how it should be. (NOTE: We have a lot of wonderfully supportive people. I thank God for them every single day. We could not do this without them.)

Just because you don't give birth to a child does not make you less of a mother. Just because a child may leave your home does not make them less a part of your family. Just because we're not having a baby of our own right now does not mean we are not parents.

I could honestly go on and on. I know not everyone is called to foster or adopt. But everyone is called to care for the orphan. So if you aren't one who wants or could foster or adopt, then support those who are.

(PS: For those of you who don't know, we will have two children in our home by the middle of May. A teenager and a toddler. We start our classes in May, we finally got our initial house assessment approved, and all of our paperwork is turned in. Any questions about our decision to foster? Feel free to email me. Want to help us? Feel free to email me as well. We have quite a few needs as the children that are in foster care generally enter homes with nothing. Want to help in other ways? Feel free to email me. I can give you a whole list of ways to help in Oklahoma.)

a brighter day is coming my way

Today is Wednesday. It should be another Weight Loss Wednesday, but it's been 13 days since I've updated. And I feel like I owe an explanation of sorts.

We closed on our house the very last day of November and then moved the next day - the first day of December. It took us two weeks to have internet installed so my updates were sparse and short at best. I was excited for the date on which internet would be installed because then I could return to the world of blogging. I had hopes that we would be settled and fully unpacked in our house by that time as well.

We were close. There was still the garage to tackle and more boxes to unpack than I wanted to admit. But we were getting there. And we'd have the entire weekend to work together on unpacking and organizing our house.

And then I had an accident. I was at the Oklahoma City Thunder game on December 14th. It was a wonderful opportunity - one provided by the Thunder who donated several tickets to children in foster care. I had the chance to take one of my girls to the game. Everything was going well until I tackled the stairs.

It was the middle of the first quarter, and we were going to get food from one of the vendors. Three-quarters of the way down the steep, steep stairs, the patella in my left knee dislocated and I fell straight down, landing on the edge of a cement stair. My patella went back in as quickly as it moved out of place, and I forced myself off the stairs.

I'm not a stranger to dislocation of my patella. It's something that has happened for years on end, but this time, it felt different. My knee was weaker than normal, and it hurt more than normal.

I stayed for the entire game. I wanted to leave. Being at the game should have been enjoyable but instead I worried and prayed the entire time. Something felt different. Really different. And it most certainly was not a good different. I convinced myself that I tore my ACL. There's still a part of me that worries that is what happened although the doctors I've seen have said they don't think that's what I did.

No matter my fears, I had to stay. I was at the game for the kids, and I stayed at the game for the kids. After the game, I carefully made my way down the stairs and then walked the almost mile to my car. I kept the tears at bay until I dropped my kids off and then completely lost it when I called my husband to tell him I was on my way to the Emergency Room.

By the time I made it to the ER, I could barely walk or talk. Tears gripped my throat and flowed down my cheeks. I was lucky that the ER saw me within 15 minutes. The X-Ray didn't show any breaks and a preliminary test showed that I had likely just sprained (badly sprained) my knee. I was sent home with  a prescription for pain killers and instructions to rest and ice my knee.

My husband did a wonderful job of taking care of me for the weekend. I spent most of my time over the weekend walking with crutches when I wasn't spread out on the couch. By the end of the day Sunday, I was able to hobble without the crutches, and I made it to work on Monday. My dogs also did a wonderful job of resting with me, cuddling with me, and loving on me. They're still on duty now - curled up at my feet and helping me blog.

The past few weeks haven't been the best for diet or exercise. It started because I was busy and lazy with food choices. Then it turned into a need to rest my knee. Now I think it's just excuses. And I need to start over (yet again).

At church on Sunday, someone asked me if I was focusing on just upper body now for work outs. Or if I were swimming instead. I stood there and stumbled over my response. Because I let the injury be the reason for my lack of exercise and weight loss instead of finding a solution.

I don't want to let every difficulty send me off track. I want to take whatever life throws at me and turn it around instead of letting it turn me around.

I did that some with Christmas. I didn't let the things that could have easily stolen my joy do that. Instead I held tight to the reason for the season and enjoyed the holidays even though they didn't go according to plan.

Now it's time to do just that with weight loss.

I refuse to let my injury (MRI pending for January with a real diagnosis of what I did) stop me. Instead I am going to learn from it. And what have I learned from it so far? That's something I will have to wait and share.

(title from "tomorrow will be kinder" by the secret sisters)

weight loss wednesday (week 14)

Today’s Weight: 216 lbs.

Total Loss: 49 lbs.

(Somehow I lost a total of THREE POUNDS over the last week! I'm honestly shocked given the amount of stress in my life right now. It's all good stress, but still it is stress. I'm just hoping the loss isn't a fluke and that I don't gain the weight back over the next week.)

What I craved this week: I don't know if there have been all that many cravings, but I do know that I have not made the best decisions when it comes to food. My life is very unsettled right now. I have no idea where any of our silverware is. I also don't know where my Crock Pot is. Needless to say, we've eaten out a lot. Pizza one night, Taco Bueno another night.. My choices have not always been the best, but they have been better than in the past. I'm off work Thursday afternoon and all day Friday, so I am hopeful about getting the rest of the house unpacked and put away.

What I noticed was different about my body: I can tell my love handles are ever so slowly disappearing. My thighs are also getting smaller. In the morning, my stomach is flatter, but then, depending on food choices, my stomach is more bloated. I think my face is also getting smaller. It is almost like I have a neck and a chin now.

I finally bought orthotics for my feet. And as much as I hate to admit it, they are helping. My plantar fascitis is still killing me, but I am doing what I can to make it better. Rolling my feet on an ice cold can helps a lot after a hard day.

What do you think? Where can you tell the most that I've lost weight? Or can you tell? Sometimes (okay.. MOST of the time) it is so hard to see the progress in yourself when you look in the mirror.

Workouts planned for this week: Work outs.. What are those?

Between closing and moving and trying to unpack, as well as dealing with little hiccups in the house [like no hot water], I have not been to the gym. I'm hoping to get into a routine next week that will allow me to work out regularly.  I know how important exercise is, but until I am settled in my house, it's hard to focus on anything else.

But I do have a designated work out room. So I need to start using it to work out. I am considering joining Jena, Meghan, and Sar on the 30-Day Shred. But I am terrified. I've done the 30-Day Shred before (though I never finished) and it is super hard. I might need some inspiration and motivation to get it done! And support.

Personal Goal(s) for this week: I want to get unpacked. I honestly think unpacking and settling into my house will help so much. It will clear my mind and allow me to see myself as truly living in our house. Right now it feels like a dream.

I also want to start drinking more water again. I do well for a few weeks, and then coffee comes calling. After coffee, diet coke starts knocking on ym door. And I am just too polite to say no to either.
Favorite Quote(s) for this week:

What I'm looking forward to: I am so excited for the next few weeks. My parents are coming to visit soon. I'm taking more time off work than I have in a very long time. All of these things are wonderful, but I also know they could help to deter me off the weight loss path. I want to prove to myself that I can enjoy the holidays without compromising on my health.

I don't think I will be in one-derland by Christmas. Though it would be amazing if I were. So I am focusing on being in one-derland by the beginning of 2013.

How are you doing this week? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to know!

a little update

We received the keys to our new house on Friday afternoon. With closing done and our check cleared, we spent Friday night shopping for furniture and celebrating by eating dinner out with friends. Saturday brought more shopping for furniture and assisting the movers with boxes and directing them with where to put all the big furniture.

Internet will be installed on Thursday, and we are slowly getting our boxes unpacked. There are little things I've noticed that need to be fixed.. things that the builder is responsible for. As stressful as moving is, I'm less stressed knowing I don't have to worry about many of the things I worried about with our first house.

I'll be back soon - once I have Internet and my MacBook. Thanks for hanging in there with me during this time of transition, and thanks for celebrating our new house. We can not even believe that this house actually belongs to us.

high five for friday (link up) - thanksgiving edition

1. My husband braved Super Target with me at 9:45pm last night. It was a madhouse. We didn't get exactly what we were looking for (couldn't find the fire pit and the TVs were all gone - surprise!), but we did find a good Christmas tree. And I finally decided on my theme. It's going to be a mixture of vintage and red/green sparkly. I am beyond excited. Can I please move into my house now so I can decorate?

2. I am finally going to see Breaking Dawn 2 today. Looking forward to a bit of a girls day (plus a sparkly vampire!) with my sister-in-law.

3. I spent lots of time with friends and family Thursday. We had the privilege of going to two Thanksgivings. And we ate lots of delicious things at both. We also drank lots of delicious beer and wine. It also made me that much more excited for hosting holidays at my house. And I loved that I got to spend the entire day with my husband. I am loving this time off with him.

4. My husband and I each took a dog on a walk Thursday before all the eating. I think I logged about 2 miles. And then after finishing our second dinner, we took another walk with friends. I may not have eaten the best between the two dinners, but at least I was active.

5. Pinterest is currently one of my best friends. I've been pinning for the new house, the holidays, work out ideas, and etc. like a fiend. I'm loving all the creativity it's providing me and feel like I am finally enjoying the domestic life. I am also loving my drink menu and dinner menu for the holidays. I have FriendsMas, family Christmas, and New Years Eve to plan!

weight loss wednesday (week 7)

I feel like, recently, I’ve been doing just enough. It's why I've conveniently missed writing this post for almost a month.

I’ve made it to the gym at least once every week but not really more than that. I’ve counted my calories four days out of every week but not every day of the week. I’ve drunk at least one bottle of water but not enough water.

This has resulted in no weight loss but no weight gain. And while I am glad the number on the scale is not increasing, I’m frustrated the number is not shrinking. Similarly my waist is staying the same. Also better than growing, but I would prefer it to shrink.

I know what to do. I know what works for me. But I get lazy. And I get tired. And I continue to put other things in front of the gym and eating well. I choose the easier path rather than the path I really want to travel down.

And then I grow silent. I tell myself that since I’m not doing all the right things through the week that I shouldn’t even write anything at all. That allows the cycle to begin again and keeps me from moving forward. I’m tired of being in this same spot. It’s time to move out of it.

BodyMedia and MyFitnessPal recently joined forces. This means I have no excuse to not track what I eat. The amount of resources MyFitnessPal has combined with the BodyMedia LINK tracking my every move and snore means I can (and will) be successful.

So I am back on this train of healthiness. I’m reminding myself that I am important and that I deserve to succeed. And I’m not giving up.

Thank you for sticking with me in my absence and please feel free to send any encouraging words. We can all use the reminder that we can succeed and that we are not alone!

Today’s Weight: 225

Total Loss: 40 pounds

What I craved this week: Lots of soups! It’s finally getting cool in Oklahoma, and I am taking every opportunity I can to eat soup. I’m also so, so ready to be settled in our new house so I can find my cookware (it’s packed…somewhere) and start making my own soups and chilis!


 What I noticed was different about my body: My stomach is flatter than it was compared to when I first began this journey. I’m trying to focus on what it will be like when it is 100% flat and not worry about the possibility of extra skin.

Also, earlier in the month, I participated in the Dirty 30 Race (Zombie Edition). It was freezing and grey, and I didn’t complete every obstacle (dang knees!) but I loved every second of it. I loved that I felt like I was capable of attempting the race and that I completed it – muddy and wet.

Workouts planned for this week: Right now? None. I need to get out of bed in the morning and get moving right away! I’m planning to squeeze in 30-minutes on the elliptical this afternoon/evening. I need the chance to sweat and clear my head.

Personal Goal(s) for this week: Track everything I eat for the next week and always wear my BodyMedia Link. I think this will really help me to focus and see just how much (or how little) I am doing.

Favorite Quote(s) for this week: You must do the thing you think you cannot do. -- Eleanor Roosevelt
What I'm looking forward to: Growing. I am in yet another season of change. But it’s more about growth. Growth with my walk with God, growth in my marriage, and growth in friendships. I know getting healthy will only help with this time of growth.

And then there’s growth in the physical sense. Muscles getting stronger. Body getting slimmer. I can’t wait to be able to do so many things I never thought I would. I can’t wait to continue to train for runs and marathons and obstacle courses and then see how that training plays out.

weight loss wednesday (week 3)

Today’s Weight: 225

Total Loss: 40 pounds (I gained 0.5 pounds over the last week.)

celebrating 4 years of marriage friday night

What I craved this week: Nothing. And that wasn't a good thing - obviously. I craved nothing because I ate whatever I wanted and called it a "celebration" because we did lots of celebrating this weekend.

There was pizza on Thursday night, fancy dinner on Friday night & ice cream, Mediterranean food on Saturday night, Steak N Shake and homemade cupcakes on Sunday... And then I went to the State Fair on Monday with a group of teens and elementary school age kids.

What I noticed was different about my body: My butt. It's (finally!) getting smaller and firmer. Now I just need to make sure that most of the rest of me starts doing the same thing.

Workouts planned for this week: I'm scheduled to work out with my trainer tonight (Wednesday) and also Saturday morning. I need to figure out when else to fit in work outs. The more I work out the better I eat. The better I eat the more energy I have. And the more energy I have the more weight I lose. Everything is tied together, and it is really time for me to start getting it together once again.

Personal Goal(s) for this week: Make good decisions with what I choose to put in my body. I can enjoy things in moderation but moderation is key (and what I struggle with the most). I mean who really only wants a half-cup of ice cream? I personally want several cups - which is why I am stuck at 40 pounds lost.

Favorite Quote(s) for this week:

inspecting the backyard and surveying the back porch.

What I'm looking forward to: The next chapter. We finally closed on our old house this past Monday. It's so surreal to be done with that chapter and moving onto a new house. Our new house is now fully framed (the picture to the right is just of the bottom floor framing - I don't have one of both floors framed [bad blogger]), and it's scheduled to be done in under 60 days. Once the house is built and we close, the real fun (and frustration I'm sure) begins. There will be lots of weekend projects, lots of estate sales, lots of planning and changing.

I'm so looking forward to the next chapter. To making things for the house. To strengthening friendships and inviting people over for dinner and games, to hosting watch parties, to building a home and a family in our brand new, blank slate house. To starting over and fresh while staying right where I am.