lost and unsure i opened my hand

We celebrated Valentine's Day on Friday night with a nice dinner by the lake. It was an hour wait, and we sat on a bench outside talking about our current state and dreaming together. We discussed some of the plans we felt God calling us too and also talked about how those plans can change. Both of us are in different jobs than we imagined for ourselves. Nothing is perfect or easy, but we both feel as though God has led us to this point.

Even with that knowledge, with His whisperings to me that He is in control, I struggle with letting go. I'm afraid to be filled with excitement over where He is calling us because I am afraid of my heart breaking.

It's much like Valentine's Day. I spent years thinking of February 14th as an integral day. I thought it needed gorgeous bouquets of flowers and elaborate dinners along with expensive presents. I fell into the trap of feeling like nothing if I had no one to share the day with.

I know differently now. I feel that Valentine's Day now is not important. To me, love is important, but I don't need a specific day to make me feel loved or cared for. I need the day to day events and happenings to remind me of what it truly means to be loved.

Getting to the point has taken years. And I think it's much the same way with letting go and allowing myself to be filled with excitement. While I want to be able to fall into His arms and His plans, I'm tentative to let go of everything I know even though it's true that His way will be best.

(title from "forgive me" by missy higgins)

and i know you can't stay but i wish you would

picture found here

According to many, home is where the heart is. But what if your heart is in many different places?

I flew out of Oklahoma City on Tuesday afternoon. There was a brief layover in Dallas, and then I landed in Houston. My mom greeted me at the airport. I spent Tuesday evening with my mom and brother. We ate, drank wine, and watched home videos. On Wednesday, my brother went off to work, and my mom and I stayed home. We watched Eat Pray Love, and then, Wednesday evening was a repeat of Tuesday with dinner, wine, and home videos.

Spending time with my family is more rare than I would like. In college, I enjoyed the eight-hour drive between Houston and Oklahoma City. Just a few years later, I despise the eight-hour drive and find myself entertaining the idea of living in Texas. It's not as easy as saying "let's move." There are jobs and houses and a husband and in-laws and dogs in Oklahoma.

My heart is in Oklahoma with my husband and my dogs. We are building a life there. It's not as easy as I want. Sometimes it is so difficult that it seems as though it would be easier to forget everything and move someplace new where we could just start over. But forgetting and starting over is not a pattern we are wanting to follow.

My heart is also in Texas with my parents and my Nana. There's familiarity here. I have a few friends who I miss dearly and would love to be able to call and meet for coffee or dinner on any night of the week. The grocery stores are also better (and cheaper) than the grocery stores in Oklahoma.

But my heart is also in Michigan. It longs for the crashing waves of Lake Michigan, the clear skies, the stars, and the sunsets. When I close my eyes, I see the park near my grandparents house. I can practically smell the fresh corn waiting to be purchased straight from the farm.

During my sophomore year of college, a professor had us think about our writing home. For me, it was Michigan. But what about my other home? What about where my heart is?

I want to have roots. I want to take a deep breath and settle somewhere. I'm trying to settle into a life in Oklahoma, and while many would argue that marriage is putting down roots (and it is in many ways), I still feel myself searching for the best soil for us both to put down roots.

I don't know if there is anything that would make it easier. While I do want to leave Oklahoma and return to Texas, I know it would present a new array of challenges. And I know that some of those challenges would make me long for life in Oklahoma, just as the challenges in Oklahoma make me long for life in Texas.

As a child, I was so ready to grow up. I wanted to move from one stage of life to the next as quickly as I could. Now that I am an adult, I want to move back into previous stages of life. I want to slow down. I want time to sit and contemplate where home is. I want a chance to just breathe and focus on what I want.

But life moves quickly. I go to work and make dinner almost every day. Weekends pass far too quickly. There is so much to catch up on, and while twenty-four hours seems like a good amount of time (in theory), it is never enough. I just can't seem to keep up.

I will board a flight on Monday evening. There will be no layover in Dallas this time. My plane will touch down in Oklahoma City after 5pm. I will be back with my husband and our dogs. Maybe my heart will be there, too. We'll see.

(title from "dance so good" by wakey!wakey!)

everything that was taken can be restored

I'm rediscovering a love for my house. This happens periodically. At times, I hate it. I hate the sloping floors, the tilting ceiling, the worries that go along with the knowledge that our foundation needs to be fixed. I hate how dusty it gets, how often I have to sweep, how dirty the baseboards always are, and it goes on.

But I also love the wood floors. I love how many windows are in the house. I love how open it is. I love that even with all it's negatives it feels like home. I've prayed about our house situation time and time again. I've asked for a miracle. I've begged for the money to fix the house. I fully believe money can miraculously appear in our bank account, and I fully believe God could miraculously strengthen the foundation. But it doesn't truly matter if He does or does not because I know that He could.

We know we will likely need to take out a large loan to fix the house. We're scared of doing this, but we know it is necessary. We hope that the loan will be large enough to cover our current credit card debt so that in five years we can be debt free (other than the house). Just last night, after celebrating our anniversay with dinner out and dessert at home, we discussed how with this new job we will need to keep one another accountable with not eating out, with not going out so that we can afford to fix the home and become debt free.

So often, my husband and I go out because we are tired of being in our house with no one else to talk to. We long for community, to have friends over and play board games. We desperately want to have potluck dinners at our house. But we've been weary of doing those things because of our house. At least, that is my excuse.

I don't take as much pride in the house as I should. Even with all it's issues, our home is still a blessing. It provides a roof over our heads, shields us somewhat from the cold and fully from the rain. It is a place we can lay our heads down and feel safe. It's where we started our family of four. It is our home even with all the problems and annoyances.

I want to take pride in our home. I truly do. I want to stop comparing it to the homes of our other friends and wishing we had waited or thought harder about the purchase. I believe this is where God wants us, but I also believe He did His best to warn us previously that this house would not be the easiest to own.

Our closing barely happened. We were set to move out of our apartment and were not quite sure where we would be moving to. At the time, I chocked this up to the real estate industry. I do remember wondering if it was a sign that this was not meant to be and thought about backing out, but then everything came together and we were homeowners. I think it was God's way of preparing us for the hardships that would follow but also showing us that things will work out in the end.

I've talked before about how similar the house and the work it requires is to humans and the work we require. The similarities still surprise me. God is a carpenter, a true craftsman, but we are not always the best subjects.

I am determined, though, to take His blessings and enjoy them. I am determined to be content in our house. I am determined to dust, sweep, vaccum, and fluff pillows at least once a week. I am determined to invite people over and not be embarassed. I am determined to love the house even when it does not love me (which it often does not).

It is easy to wallow in our circumstances, and sometimes I do. Sometimes I struggle with seeing any sort of shining light, but recentl, God has been constant in meeting me where I am. He has shown up every single time and reminded me that He has everything under control and that even though I might feel alone I am not.

I wouldn't have any determination or fight left in me were it not for Him.

As we enter this new chapter of our lives (our third year of marriage, two steady paychecks, seriously considering home repair), much will change. And I will need to hold myself even more accountable than normal.

Most people make new years resolutions on January 1 and then forget them by January 2, myself included. This year, I am making my resolutions to go along with our current place in life. Here's to our new chapter and what I plan to do/change.

1. get back into a workout routine.
2. cook at least five meals (for dinner) a week at home.
3. bring my lunch to work (and eat what i bring) five days a week.
4. invite people over more often.
5. clean the house a little everyday.
6. throw out the unncessary objects.
7. drink coffee/tea from home - not starbucks or mcdonalds.
8. put away laundry the day i wash it.
9. stick to my grocery list.
10. play more board games with my husband.
11. read more.
12. finish editting my novel and then begin rewriting it.
13. blog at least five times a week.
14. find more blogs to read and invest in.
15. leave comments on the blogs i read.
16. take more pictures.
17. stop looking at expensive houses i can not afford and make my house truly into a home.
18. create more.
19. tend to my garden.
20. limit my complaints to four a week (and hopefully not that many).
21. smile.
22. have grace with myself and with others. (thanks, kat.)

(title from "feel this" by bethany joy galeotti)

finally ready to be here

In my twenty-five years of life, I've lived in four states. I've traveled to eight countries. I've seen so much of the beauty that the world has to offer.

I spent just under two years in California. I was a baby then. I didn't like the water. I lived in a house I do not remember with two parents and a beautiful yellow labrador retriever who enjoyed eating the fruit that fell in our backyard.

Then I lived in New Jersey. I remember that our house was "upside down" with the kitchen on the second story. My brother was born in New Jersey. I made friends with a set of twins. I dressed up as a mermaid for Halloween. I hid behind the couch of the twins' house the day my family moved to Texas.

Then, it was off to Texas. This is where I grew up. I picked the smaller bedroom with wood floors and clown wallpaper, though my parents tried to persuade me to take the larger, carepeted bedroom. We later took off all the clown wallpaper and painted the walls a light pink. Then years later we painted the walls a pepto bismol pink and sponged the walls with a lighter pink. For years, I was the only little girl on the street. I did my best to keep up with the boys by playing football and cowboys/indians.

I grew up in Texas. I found myself and lost myself. Then found myself again and eventually lost myself again. I made friends. I rode the bus to school, something I was not able to do in New Jersey. I swam in the pool in our backyard. I had sleepovers with friends. I stayed up chatting online and writing. I thought I fell in-love in Texas, but I didn't know what love meant. I don't think anyone really does at that age.

After a year of college in Nacogdoches, TX, I spent three weeks in Europe and then moved to Oklahoma, where I now live.

Through these moves, there has been one constant. My constant has been Michigan. Both my parents were born and raised in Michigan; both left after graduating college and neither moved back. I always hoped to experience Michigan as a resident, but it was not meant to be.

My relationship with Michigan is one of summers spent swimming in cold lake water, of walking into town for ice cream, of sleeping in the converted attic with sheets sticking to me some nights and shivering under the sheets some nights.

The cottage began as a one-bedroom home. My grandmother visited the home with her parents as a child for long weekends and week vacations. Eventually, my mother visited the home with her parents and siblings for long weekends and week vacations. My grandparents later purchased the cottage. It now has a bedroom and two bathrooms on the main level. There are narrow, creaky stairs to walk up that open to an attic. There are three twin-sized beds and a full-size bed in the attic.

There's a guest house close to the garage with a bed, a sink, and a toilet. The water only runs cold, and there's no heater or air conditioner in the guest cottage.

This is my favorite place in the world. New York City might have bright lights and Broadway. Paris offers the Eifeel Tower. But I would much rather be in Suttons Bay, Michigan.

I see it more clearly that my childhood home. I hear the creaks of the stairs and the waves of the lake. I smell the fresh corn and the mint and the plump tomatoes. I taste the clean air. I crave the homemade ice cream.

It's my home in so many ways. When I am there, my heart is at rest. I feel at peace, like I belong. It's the place that inspires me to write. It's where I want to be almost all the time. It's my Northern Star, the guiding light that brings me home when I lose my way and forget what is the most important in life.

I learned to daydream here. I wore hula skirts with my grandmother and pretended the creek was Hawaii. I went on adventures with friends, exploring the secret passages in the houses aroun the cottage. I scraped me knees crawling through the sewer system. I kayaked from the cottage to the library and walked the boardwalk. I made friends here with myself and with others. I combined my past and present with the past and present of my family. I pretended like I could play the piano, like I could sing. I dressed up in my great-grandmother's clothes. I watched the weather change in the span of five minutes just like I so often changed.

Suttons Bay has grown. But it has stayed the same. Just like I have grown but also stayed the same. It is my heart. It is my guiding light. It is the one place I know will always be there. It envelopes me like a hooded sweatshirt just out of the dryer.

Sometimes, if the wind blows right in Oklahoma and the clouds cover the sun, it feels like I am there. And I let that feeling wash over me again and again.

(title from "been a long day" by rosi galan)

no height and no depth could separate us

It’s no secret that the past few months, and even the past year, has been a year of trial, a year of strife, a year of tears and fears with a few rays of sunshine. So much has fallen apart including (but not limited to) our house. We’ve been blessed by a supportive family, close friends, and so much more. I try to focus only on the blessings, but recently, I’ve struggled with seeing the blessings during the present.

I tried my way

It always ends up being a mistake

I’ve prayed to see how He works in struggle and strife while going through struggle and strife. It’s easy to glance in the rear view mirror and have the blessings and reasons fly past. It’s so difficult to slow down, even pause life completely, when it seems as though many days are just meant to survive.

As I said, we are blessed. Life is difficult right now, but it is not impossible. We have enough to meet all of our needs and a few extras. Still, I am tired, exhausted even, and I am ready to not just have enough, to not just survive. I want to be able to enjoy life, to find joy in the situations we are in, to love uncontrollably and irrevocably. I want to bless others, to have enough left over that I feel like I have something left to give.

It’s not just one thing but a lot of little things together. I have cried out to God, asked Him for a miracle, for a sign, for something, and there have been small instances that made me wonder if He were speaking to me. I pray and ask for clarity, but nothing. He is once again silent.

But You’re right when You say

That You set the time for the plans You make

I never thought that I could ever learn to let it go

Somehow its better when I follow in the paths You show

So I’m here I’m waiting

Cause I believe

There is a tugging on my heart, one that says “just wait; I am here. I am working.” I do my best to believe it, to hold onto the waiting. I remember that He will always come through in His timing. I remember that He blesses those who wait on Him. So I wait. Sometimes patiently and with joy. Sometimes while sitting in my office bathroom with tears streaming down my cheeks.

We’ve known, since a few months after we purchased our house, that it needed so much more work than we realized. The work includes: a new crawl space foundation, insulation, new electrical work, updated plumbing, trees trimmed, new windows. I am sure there is more as well, but we have not yet discovered all of the home’s problems.

If it weren’t for the price tag attached to these items (like $17,000 just for the new foundation), I would be okay with it. I would remember that we have time, years even, to complete our work-in-progress. However, we have heard from multiple sources that the foundation is getting worse, there is now water flooding our crawlspace, and that we have maybe two years, at most, to complete the work.

Some say we need a miracle

Some say there’s no hope at all

But I know that Your love is strong, it goes on and on

And on and on

Rise up when it gets us down

It’ll be the voice in a blaring crowd

Because we know Your love will lead us home

It goes on and on and on and on

So we have prayed for a miracle, knowing God can deliver a miracle whenever He sees fit. We have prayed for $50,000 to simply fall out of the sky. We have prayed for Him to lift our house and steady the foundation. We have prayed for peace, for new employment opportunities, for direction. And He is quiet. I don’t think silent, as we have both heard whisperings, but quiet.

I’ve done my best to grasp an understanding of the situation, praying for clarity and reasoning. And He has provided some, but there is still so much I am uncertain over, so much I am not sure how to reason with.

Why is this our house, our problem? Why couldn’t we have been blessed with a different house? Because even though it has a lot of problems, this house is a blessing. It has kept us protected from storms (both spring and winter ones), from flooding, from power outages. It is the house we walked into, prayed over, and felt as though it were home. What are we supposed to learn from this?

There is no fear of belief

There’s just this cold reality

That wants to take me away from You

While writing this post, I felt God nudging me to remember that we (I) are much like an old house. So many of us have been rejected, left alone and abandoned. Our house certainly was as seen in this picture. For at least six years, it sat vacant, forgotten, boarded up, and unloved. I have felt that way, as have so many other people I know. Are we to learn from this house how to rebuild a person, to see how God views the people of the earth?

Or am I to learn about patience and contentment? Those who know me best will openly tell you (and tell me) that I move too quickly. I am not good at waiting. I am always looking for the next thing. I am ready for the next season of life. I do not always enjoy the current season of life. I breathe in the scent of flowers, but after two days, I am ready for new blooms, for a new scent, even though the scent of the flowers lasts for weeks at times.

Or am I to understand God’s timing more, to bend to His will instead of bending Him to mine? Because I often pray for things to happen quickly, for Him to move now. Recently, I have prayed for His timing, for His will, and I have said how afraid I am of those things. Because if I lean into Him and His will, I lose control, and as my husband will express, I have a bit of a problem with control.

I’m not sure of the reasons yet. I may never learn of the reasons. And I am so close to losing hope because I am tired. Tired of struggle, Tired of heartache. Tired of seeing the world hurt. But I refuse to lose hope.

Even if it means I have to cry in the bathroom every day at work and then pull myself together, I will not lose hope. I will not.

There is no doubt in my mind

That in Your perfect time

Your plans and Your ways will unfold.

(title and lyrics from "on and on" by chasen)

this brokenness inside me might start healing

This past November, I ran away from Oklahoma and returned home to Texas for a weekend. A last-minute trip that occurred because of the aching in my chest, because of the overwhelming tears, and because of an exhausted mind and soul. I had watched my breaking point dance past weeks before, and I could no longer grasp onto the strings holding me to Oklahoma.

I spent a long weekend with my mother. A flight from Oklahoma City to Dallas in the early morning and then from Dallas to Houston, and I was home. Dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, I felt almost as though I had woken from a long dream in which I had graduated college and married. It felt as though I were still the same, wide-eyed blonde with hopes to graduate and then make something of myself.

But it wasn’t a dream. I had graduated in May 2008, married in September 2008, and purchased a home in January 2009. So many life changes in fewer than 12 months. Maybe it was the short periods of time that caused my unraveling in November.

Returning home pieced me back together. My mother was the glue that held all the pieces in place; she is still the glue.

I’m not the best with intimacy, with making friendships that last a lifetime. I am easily hurt, easily angered, and have a green side that I try to hide myself from. I give up on people, but more so, I give up on myself too easily and decide it is time to move on, that I am too much, that it is no longer worth it.

During my escape to Texas, I began to combat these things. A closet full of trinkets, pictures, and memories, and a request that I go through the belongings and decide what to keep, what to throw, and what to pass on to a stranger. It was not what I had in mind for a last-minute flight to Houston, but my mother is the glue that holds me together. And as the glue, she often knows exactly what I need to make me whole.

I saw my entire life in that closet. Friendships that had lasted for 5 years, some that dwindled after two years. Pictures of boys that had captured my heart. Pictures of what happened after my heart broke. Notes passed in class and letters sent to friends in far-off states. And with it all, the knowledge that none of those relationships are truly intact as of this date.

We grew apart. Life got in the way. We moved to different states. There was a fight. Excuses and nothing but excuses for why relationships ended the way they did. Some relationships were meant to exist for only a season in my life, and I am thankful for all those seasons. Somehow the springs, summers, and falls brought me to my current season. It’s more winter than I would like, but I don’t think the groundhog has seen his shadow; spring is on the horizon.

And so many relationships could have passed into other seasons of my life, so many could be here with me now just waiting for the snow to melt and the flowers to bloom. But they are gone, a memory of the past and a reminder of how easy it is to walk away but how hard it can be to move on.

I’m still learning to release jealousy. I am forgiving myself for pushing others away. I am forgiving others for the things I interpreted as hurtful. I am learning to drown in a sea of grace for myself and for those around me. We’re all nothing but human with our own shortcomings and our own downfalls. No one can fix another, and none should need to.

I’m doing my best to relearn intimacy, to allow my heart to open and to allow the possibility of pain. A broken heart is terrifying, but loneliness is much more so.

Life has so much to offer. Some of it is good, and then there is so much that is not. When I remember the past, it’s hard to see the stumbling blocks. I focus only on overcoming and enjoying. How I want to focus on those things now and not just when I look in the rearview mirror.

So I traveled back to Oklahoma and took with me the lessons of Texas, the bottle of glue mixed especially for me by my mother. I’m still broken, I’m still not quite sure how I fit together, but I am allowing myself to be repainted, sculpted, and created better than before.

I still struggle with intimacy. I still worry over the words I say and if anyone will be nearby the next day. I wonder what will happen if I push you away. But I try to not act in the ways of the past. Instead, I reach deep, and I ask for help. I move forward, and I apologize for the wrongs that have been done.

I ask God to guide me. Then I close my eyes, and I leap. I know my mother will always be there to catch me, always available for a plane ride home if I need to be pieced back together.

(title from "the house that built me" by miranda lambert)