In this Moment

I woke up this morning feeling grateful. Grateful for my husband, my baby, our warm cozy house, the food we were going to eat for breakfast, the cars that had gas in them, the huge family I hung out with last night that I get to experience love and laughs with. I was breathing in the fresh air of gratitude. But, not all mornings are like this. Some mornings are spent annoyed that there are dishes in the sink, or that Jace won't eat his breakfast, or that my master bathroom isn't a little bigger, or my house doesn't look like a Pottery Barn catalog. Some days I waste. Because I'm too busy complaining to see that my fortress is made out of greatness.

Every moment we get on earth is our last of that very moment. Every breath, every hour, will be gone as soon as it came. And though it seems like life is long and there's always tomorrow, it's not true. There's not always tomorrow, and in the grand scheme of things 80 to 90 years isn't much compared to eternity.  We get one shot. Just one. How often are we wasting our moments being selfish, feeling entitled, comparing, being angry, wanting more, giving less?

In one of the book's I'm reading right now, the author says if your household makes $35,000 a year you are in the top 4% for wealth in the world. $50,000? Top 1%. If you're reading this and live in America you have a very different human experience than most of the world. We have so much stuff. And yet we are constantly being told we need more. If we can't be grateful for what we have right now, we can't live in real joy, it doesn't exist without gratitude.  If we are constantly waiting to obtain something more, we will never be truly happy in the present.

Technology has been a big contributor to us wanting more, but has also given us the ability to take ourselves out of our present. With all the ways we are bombarded by information through TV, the Internet, our phones and our apps, we are more and more slipping into a false world and are less and less connected to our very present, real world. Joy also can't exist in moments that we aren't even in.

I've been thinking about the village kids in India a lot lately. Thinking about how much delight were on the faces of kids who had never seen much 'stuff' in their lives. They understand what it's all about. Living in bliss doesn't come from having a lot of things, it comes from being aware and thankful for this present moment, because just being in it is enough. I've been thinking of that little girl who offered me her bed in case I wanted to stay with them. How can someone who has pretty much nothing to offer, be able to offer so much? It's because it was not out of duty, but out of a heart overflowing.

I want that. I want to live like her. To love this moment so much that I can reach out and love a stranger like that. To not be consumed with the things I don't have, but to be overwhelmed by things I do have. To not be entitled to my possessions or my love, but to be willing to give them away to whoever might be in need. To not look at myself as just a little girl with nothing to offer, but to offer the world whatever it is I have to give.

And I need to remember to smile. There may have been language barriers, but I won't forget any of those smiles. I think it would have been a very different experience if I had been walking around watching these kids be upset and hating that they were working in 100 plus degree heat, or that they were running around on the hot ground with no shoes on, or that their clothes were dirty and ripped. It changed my life to see the sheer happiness radiating from their faces. To me, their circumstances seemed less than ideal. To them, it was another day to be grateful. Another day to taste real joy.

I want this for myself, for my family, for my friends. I'm trying to learn to quiet the voice that tells me it's never enough, and appreciate the here and the now, which is always enough.

This big, beautiful life offers so much more to appreciate than to criticize.

So, that's what I'm going to do.

Live in real joy.

And real joy,

lives right now,

in this very, present moment.

Real Talk: Perfectly Imperfect

It all started when we were asked if we would be interested in doing a photo shoot for a book that's being published next year. I imagined the 3 of us dressing up really cute and posing next to burned down barns or running through fields of sunflowers, or doing something whimsical.

On Sunday, I got an email to schedule the shoot and found out that on Thursday, a photographer would be in our HOUSE from 2 pm until Jace's bedtime taking pictures of us 'living our daily lives' including, but not limited to, pictures of me jogging with Jace in the stroller. In the sun. While I'm sweating. Documented in a book. For the rest of time as I know it.

Ok, so Sunday starts panic mode. Sleepless nights. Crazy dreams. Like I had a dream that all of Jace's shoes were in the garbage can and so the photographer took pictures of me fetching his dirty garbage shoes out of the dirty garbage can and putting them on my child's feet. And I was mortified because I knew that everyone was going to see that Jace wears dirty shoes from garbage cans.And my mom was going to disown me. And this was a night. mare. Like, I woke up sweating and my heart was racing and I couldn't go back to sleep in fear of what my evil subconscious was going to stir up next.

I just felt so much pressure. I needed to tidy up our 'daily lives'.

So, whenever Owen leaves for work in the morning, Jace gets so sad and doesn't want him to leave and sometimes clings onto Owen's leg and cries. But, for some reason, when Owen gets home from work Jace runs away screaming! We can't figure it out but he needs like 5 minutes to warm up, it's like he's mad at him for leaving. So anyway, I just had this picture in my head of the photographer ready to take sweet 'welcome home, daddy' pictures but instead gets Jace running away screaming 'NOOOooooooooo!!!' So all week, the hour before Owen got home we practiced "what do we say when daddy gets home? We say, 'YAYYYY, DADDY!!!'" It worked. I trained him like a little monkey.

Then there's the house. I scrubbed every inch of the house. My window sills were polished with wood spray stuff I never knew I had! We got a picture for our dining room wall that has lived bare for the 2 years we've lived here. I took the leaves out of our dining table to make it look like it was for a small family instead of for the United States Army, and I made sure we all sat together as a family for dinner all week instead of Jace in his high chair, me at the counter and Owen eating while pacing around the kitchen.

I bought flowers for MYSELF. I never have ever bought flowers for my house. I don't even like when Owen buys me flowers. What girl doesn't like her husband buying her flowers, you ask? A practical one! I'd rather he spent $20 on a shirt for me than flowers. Buying the flowers was somewhat of a challenge because there were barely any options in the $6 range I was willing to pay. But, I found some. I got to the cash register and the clerk said 'these green flowers are so pretty!' They're green? I thought they were white! I bought green flowers? Are they weeds? Did I buy weeds for my table? But, I did it, I bought flowers for our dining table and I have to say I love them there. I wish they were fake so they didn't have to leave me.

As I dotted all my i's and crossed all my t's I sent a picture of practically every clothing item I owned to my cousins and sister-in-law to pick out the right 'casual at home shirt'. They all told me to calm."I mean, is the photographer really gonna take pictures of your windowsills? And maybe having some imperfections will allow others to feel the freedom to be imperfect."

That hit the core of my heart for 1/10th of a second. But, then I decided I was not going to let myself be the poster child of imperfection. Someone else could be a martyr. Not I. So, perfection it was.

Thursday morning, my sweet, little boy woke up with the snottiest nose and was a crazy, cranky, temper tantrumy ball of mess. Why? Why me? Why NOW? He usually wakes up with the biggest smile and so happy to see us. Nope. Of course not the day that will be documented for the rest of eternity. Perfection was now out of my control.

Ok, so the day happened. It was fine. We lived. We actually had fun and the photographer was really nice and it was easier to be normal than I thought it would be. We didn't have to fake it through. And when Jace screamed for rice at dinner and refused his enchiladas, I didn't even care. Because perfection, it doesn't exist. At least not for us.

Imperfection. It's so underrated. What a boring world perfection would be. I like our little world the way it is. We've got real. We've got raw. We've got messy.  And a whole lot of love.

We are perfectly imperfect.

It's the best we've got.

And it's completely enough.

(But, if someone's going to come take pictures of our imperfect, there are some things that are completely acceptable to fix first! Right?)

Our new artwork and green flowers:)

Brave and Strong

I don’t have a lot of miles behind me on this whole mom-hood journey thing. But, as I watched my mom friends post pictures of their littles on their first day of school, tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at my not yet 2 year old and thought—why can’t he just stay this little and innocent forever, right here with me? The world can be harsh, and I just want to keep him in this safe little bubble we've created. As I witness each of his milestones, they are equal parts sweet and bitter because I'm watching him succeed as he inches closer into independence and further away from needing me. 

I may not have a lot of experience, but I know in these past 2 years I've become the strongest and yet, most breakable version of myself I've ever been. There is a process to becoming a parent. Whether it’s going through 9 months of pregnancy to get to the intense pains of labor or whether it's through the emotional sweat, tears and unknowns through an adoption.We are forced to become stronger. Ever heard of mama strength?—when moms lift trucks up with their bare hands to save their children—yea that. We get that when we become mamas. We are unbreakable. 

And yet, we are so very breakable. 

I saw a 5 day old donkey last week who was basically no different than an adult donkey, he was born ready for the world. It made me think, when Jace was born he came out absolutely helpless. It was my job to transport him, feed him, clothe him, bathe him. He was nowhere close to as functional as he will someday be in his adult life. 

His vulnerability has made me vulnerable. I innately care for someone so purely, freely, and selflessly--a love so hard it hurts. Like when something is so hot it's cold or you laugh so hard you cry. This feeling is so intense it can't wholly be contained in one emotion, so it spills out on to the next. I'm so grateful to finally know this part of me, and yet so scared of how exposed it has left me.

Preacher Dean Sherman uses a phrase that I love--  ‘grace cut to fit’. We might not understand how someone else can go through something we aren't, or how we could ever go through something that might be in our future, because we only have grace for each moment as it pertains to us individually--cut to fit. So to my mama friends. Whether you just drove with your baby in the car for the first time or are sending your kid off to college, you have been given ‘grace cut to fit’ and it is making you braver and stronger.  Whether you have one kid or seven kids, you have been given ‘grace cut to fit’ and it is making you braver and stronger. If you work a 9-5 and entrust your babies to someone else, then come home and throw dinner together and help with homework and clean the house, you have been given ‘grace cut to fit’ and it is making you braver and stronger. If you stay at home and being a mom is your full time job where there are no breaks and there doesn't seem to be an adult conversation all day, and you have sacrificed using that college degree you worked so hard for, you have been given ‘grace cut to fit’ and it is making you braver and stronger.

And to the world. We need to be careful with each other. Because no matter how old we are, behind every person is a fragile mama who is pleading for you to be gentle with her exposed heart that is out discovering the world--or, there is a big void where that kind of mama should have been. Either way, we should be taking extra care of each other. 

Because being alive--it's a vulnerable thing.

We're all just learning to be a little braver and stronger.

One day at a time.