bright copper kettles & warm woolen mittens

A few months back, my mom came to visit for a weekend in Tulsa. On our long list of things to do, we decided we were going to sew a maxi skirt. My mom is a very talented seamstress and brought along her sewing machine so she could teach me.

Earlier that week, I spotted a blogger on pinterest who claimed she had an "easy diy maxi skirt pattern that anyone could complete." I immediately thought, that since I saw it on pinterest, I could do it. My mom suggested we get a pattern at the fabric store, however, I remained stubborn and insisted that following the pinterest blog would go off without a hitch. Pinterest said I could be an insta-seamstress. I believed it.

After we purchased the fabric and began to look at the instructions, we quickly realized the blogger's descriptions were very vague and not nearly wordy enough. 
 
My mom and I decided that it was good that neither of us are inclined to use foul language or we would have had a reenactment of A Christmas Story's Mr, Parker's verbal and physical fight with a hot water heater right there in my living room. Except ours would have involved sewing pins, scissors and a measuring tape. The end result wouldn't have been pretty.

Long story short, I should have heeded my mom's advice and purchased a pattern. The skirt was finished that day, but with much more time and frustration than necessary.

Beware of the pinterest DIY blog.

In Pride and Prejudice, when describing the attributes of an accomplished woman, Ms. Bingly states, "no [woman] can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.  A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved."

It seems to me the modern description would add to the quote above by asserting that a woman must have perfect hair, a perfect body, the ability to form anything out of burlap, sew, paint, run 6.5 miles a day, make meals that not only taste good but look mouthwatering in three shades of instagram filters, stay up to date in the current season's fashions, keep a perfectly decorated home that rivals any pin on the home section of pinterest, never get angry, and be a quintessential combination of Martha Stewart and Jillian Michaels in order to be a woman of worth.

In the world we live in, comparison tells us we aren't enough. "She" is better than I am. I could never measure up to the woman she is. Comparison says we are a failure if we can't do it all. Comparison sees a beautiful, sweet woman as a threat instead of as a sister in Christ to encourage. Comparison sees the good traits in another and turns a blind eye to the unique traits God has given us. Comparison says they have it all and we somehow missed out.  

no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.  A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, all the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved - See more at: http://modernmrsdarcy.com/the-accomplished-woman/#sthash.6EmVLvmX.dpuf

no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.  A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, all the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved - See more at: http://modernmrsdarcy.com/the-accomplished-woman/#sthash.6EmVLvmX.dpuf

no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.  A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, all the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved - See more at: http://modernmrsdarcy.com/the-accomplished-woman/#sthash.6EmVLvmX.dpuf

no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.  A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, all the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved - See more at: http://modernmrsdarcy.com/the-accomplished-woman/#sthash.6EmVLvmX.dpuf

Am I the only one fighting this battle?

I ran across an image in my internet scouring the other day that said this - "Whatever is good for the soul. Do that."

Good for the soul.

I can think of a few things that come to mind that I know immediately are good for my soul. Volcano scented candles, worn book pages, hand written mail, fresh flowers, sharing stories, laughter, quality time with people I love, mixing dough,  and piping frosting to name a few. You probably have your own list too. Just think what you would insert into Julie Andrew's rendition of "My Favorite Things" (name that movie). Candles and conversation don't flow nearly as well as bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, so I'll keep my list in text form and leave the singing to Ms. Andrews.

However, I can also think of several things that are not good for my soul. For example, sewing with no pattern, playing any aggressive sport, mathematical problems, marathon running, body pumping (is that what they call it?), up-do's, drawing anything other than a flower, and public speaking to name a few.

What is good for your soul, probably isn't an exact replica of what is good for mine. We need to stop telling ourselves that this is a negative.

Comparison is a nasty companion. Too often we forget that comparison comes from the enemy, not from our Creator. The enemy tries to feed us lies about what a woman should be, whether that is through social media feeds, the media, or even through looking at the lives of other women around us. If we let the enemy and comparison define what it means to be a woman of worth, we will be left feeling defeated, unworthy and subpar. Our value and worth should come from the source of our being, the Creator of the Universe. Turns out, He has more than a few things to say about what true worth looks like.

Psalm 139:14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Psalm 31:30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

1 Peter 3:3-4 Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

This is a dialogue I have had with several of my girlfriends over the past few months. It seems the enemy has found a note that strikes a chord with more than one of us. We are all a part of the body of Christ and have the opportunity to encourage and support eachother in our differences. As believers, we are all working together for the glory of God. All of our differences give us the opportunity to make a bigger impact all together. The enemy doesn't want us to see that. He wants our unique traits to create division and envy, not unity.

Whatever is good for the soul. Do that. 

Perhaps celebrating and encouraging the good that comes from the souls around us is the remedy we have been looking for. I love the part of Hebrews 10:24-25 that talks about encouragement.

God made each of us intentionally...perfectly. Unlike the blogger I chose to blindly follow from pinterest, God doesn't make any mistakes. The enemy says you are not enough. God says you are wonderfully made. The enemy says you have to be everything. God says we don't have to be everything because He is our everything.

He has a plan and purpose for each person He created. He created me exactly the way he wanted to...unique likes, dislikes, quirks, looks, personality, and passions, all carefully crafted so I can live out the plan God created for me. You, too. 

It's for the birds.

Apartment living has its perks as I have realized over the past couple of years. A friendly eighty year old man comes to unclog my garbage disposal when I drop in too many eggs and doesn't scold me despite his visit for a similar problem a few weeks before. I don't have a lawn to mow. Friends in the same complex are a short walk away. I am only 30 second walk away from a pool, and I have "free" access to a gym that I feel like I can tell myself I "go to" if I drop in a couple of times a month.

However, my previous two residences were rental houses, and there is one thing that I can't deny I miss. My apartment has a sizable patio, but it in no way can compare to having a yard. Yes, I love my porch bench and could sit there for hours, but a concrete slab doesn't stand a chance against a bed of grass flowers and trees. After I first moved into my apartment a couple of years ago, I purchased a slew of bulbs, potting soil, and clay pots to try to create my own "garden" on my concrete slab. However, before I opened the packages, I realized that my porch faced in a direction that received no direct sunlight. The tags on the plants I had chosen of course implied that my gardening attempts would fail without that ingredient. Discouraged, I took everything back to the store and put the idea on the back burner.

A couple of months ago, after I had a bad day, Jeff came over and told me he had something for me in his trunk. I waited upstairs and he brought up a beautiful fern for my porch, only one of the many many thoughtful things he has done for me that I don't deserve. He helped me hang it up, and my porch garden came back to light. He has since added sweet basil and citronella, which I am happy to say, unlike the bulbs I previously selected, love the shade my porch has to offer.

The next few days I sat outside on my bench eating breakfast and noticed that several house finches had taken a liking to the fern too. I didn't think much about it until I saw some twigs sticking out of the side of the plant when I went to water. Apparently, the house finches not only liked the fern, but decided to take up residence.

As soon as I realized there was a small nest nestled in my fern, I took every measure to learn all I could about house finches. Meaning, I googled. I love a google search. I learned what the male and females looked like, confirming that my flying house guests were indeed house finches. I learned about their nesting habits, incubation time of the eggs, and more than you probably care to hear. I'll stop.

The nest started with 3 eggs, and then the number grew to 5 overnight. A few days later, two eggs had gone missing. One more day and one of the remaining eggs was on the ground of my porch, and one had turned dark brown. This left one light blue, and from what I could gather, healthy egg.

Every morning, I pulled a kitchen chair out to the patio, watered the side of the fern opposite of the nest and checked for any change in the nest. A few days before I left for my vacation, when attempting to water, I saw something different. Instead of an egg, there was a pink little body covered in white fuzz. I was thrilled. I won't try to hide my excitement about the baby bird. I am writing a whole blog about it, so if you are judging me, it already happened a few paragraphs ago. I can take it.

A friend was sweet enough to water my fern for me for the week I was on vacation each day, even with my persistent instructions and warnings to not drown the baby bird in exchange for a bottle of vanilla from Mexico.

When I came home, the baby was still there to my surprise but had much more resemblance to it's parents. I continued to water on my patio each morning, surprised that the bird was still in the nest after a few weeks after hatching.

So continued my morning routine. Until Tuesday. Things got interesting. After I had poured half of the water into the plant, I heard a quiet chirp and the baby bird shot out of the nest and started flapping it's wings. It made a quick....descent to the ground, where it sat very still. Too still I thought.

Panic ensued. I was that kid. The mean one on the playground who pushes the toddler over when they are learning to walk (I hope no one really does that. I think I saw it in a movie once). Flying....walking...maybe this was a little different but at the moment it didn't feel like it. The momma bird flew to the nest looked in to see nothing and looked around before flying away. Great, now not only had I sent the baby to the ground away from its home, but also would be the cause of mother/child abandonment issues.

I walked downstairs and started climbing behind the bushes where the bird was sitting in the corner not moving. My next door neighbor walked up and asked me what I was doing (for good reason. It was 7:30 am and I was in the bushes in a dress) to which I responded with a panic filled explanation of what happened. She reminded me about the cats that wander around our building and recommended I go get some gloves to try to bring the baby home to it's nest on the 2nd floor.

I sent a text to my coworkers to let them know I would be late to work because I was trying to rescue a baby bird. One replied something about my "kind heart". She didn't know I was the one who had created the need for rescue in the first place. I didn't correct her.

After a quick trip upstairs and back down, I was sneaking around behind the bushes in a summer maxi dress, black fleece winter gloves and carrying a shoebox. More residents pulling out of the complex to go to work slowed down to look than I care to mention.

When I got close to the baby, to my surprise, it flew up and away. My rescue attempt was in vain. Thankfully. Nature took its course, the baby's instincts kicked in, and I was reminded once again that I can't control everything.

For a few weeks, I shared a small portion of my living space. I watched a finch build a nest and lay eggs and saw a baby bird the day after it was born. After weeks of waiting, I saw the baby bird fly away, in a more climactic ending than I would care to repeat, but still memorable and beautiful. 

This morning, the nest was empty and the momma bird was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she will be back to lay more eggs soon. Maybe not. Regardless, I think I need to invest in a long nosed watering can or a lengthening chain to reduce the need for the kitchen chair.

Unlike Tuesday, I got to work on time today. My shoebox and winter gloves are back where they belong. In the closet.

Maybe my neighbors will write off the site they saw as morning entertainment and never mention it, but if they do bring up my strange attire and mannerisms, I know what I will say. "It was for the birds."

High Tea at Sea.

There are some things in life, it seems, that receive a lot of "hype". Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber, fried foods at the fair, acrylic nails (the after effects aren't worth it, ladies...after 5 years my nails have finally recovered), self imposed dietary restrictions, coffee with 5 preceding adjectives (decaf nonfat light soy vanilla latte anyone?), and reality television to name a few.

For the past few years, as May rolled around, large groups of my friends boarded cruise ships together. Each time, they came back raving about the vacation and rearing to plan a new one for the next year.

My previous opinion of cruise ships was formed from a 20/20 special I watched several years ago. In the hour span of television, ABC successfully convinced me that cruise ships were indeed cesspools and that there was a 90% chance that if I went on one, my life would turn into a television special titled, Unsolved Mysteries: Cruise Edition, after I was drugged, dragged, or dropped  in the bottom of the cruise ship or on the shores of what would be sold to me as "paradise". Dramatic? Perhaps. Persuasive? Absolutely.

I stopped watching 20/20...for obvious reasons. Turns out basing your life decisions off of the worst possible scenarios that happen to less that 1 percent of the population is no way to live. Unless you enjoy breathing in paper bags and anxiety attacks.

After the initial shock of televised cruise nightmares wore off, I booked a cruise last May on the Carnival Triumph. If you watched the news between January and May of last year, that name may ring a bell. Long story short, the ship caught on fire, passengers were stranded, and my vacation was cancelled. My friends and I booked a beach house in Gulf Shores instead that same week, and I put "cruising" where I thought it belonged, on the "hype" list.

Turns out I am fickle in my opinions and easily persuaded (especially when offered a discount for my previous year's inconvenience) and booked a cruise for last week on that same ship with one of my closest friends.

I returned on Saturday, recant my "hype" statement, and am ready to write 20/20 a letter asking them to cease playing reruns of their cruise special.

I traveled to a country I had never visited, spent an unhealthy (but heavenly) number of hours in the sun, learned to Salsa dance, learned about the Mayan culture, swam in the clearest water I have ever seen, took a cooking class, danced in the dining room, ate more food than I care to mention, watched a hairy chest competition that gave MTV spring break a run for their money, and spent hours watching the waves (did you know that ocean sparkles?!).

Though the hairy chest competition and salsa dancing were noteworthy, that's not what I want to talk about.

 On the second day of the cruise, my friend and I took a look at the itinerary for the day at sea to
schedule breaks from basking in the sun (turns out spf 30 can't hold out for long against the sun's rays). 3 pm marked "tea time" in the main dining room. We jumped on the chance to eat dessert in the middle of the afternoon, attempted to look presentable after swimming in saltwater, and the waiter led us to a table. We were seated next to two women in their late 70's named Joann Lily and Shirley Freeman.

We quickly learned that Joann and Shirley were not only seasoned cruise goers but also seasoned vacationers in general. Not only had they been on 10 plus cruises, but also made roadtrips a priority. Crystal Bridges in Arkansas was next on their list.

As we all filled our teacups from our individual teapots, we exchanged stories about our families and lives in general. Both Shirley and Joann had been widowed for several years. From what I understood, Joann had been widowed twice. When she talked about her late husband, her eyes lit up. She said,"He was an angel sent down to me as a little piece of heaven. I could talk all day about him."

Joann and I exchanged stories about meeting strangers on vacation and how interesting it is to hear others' stories. Joann said "When you are friendly, you are sure to make friends wherever you go."

Amen to that. On the cruise ship last week, it fascinated me that more than 3,000 people were sharing the same space. All with different stories, and many from different parts of the world. I met people who had traveled to Europe countless times, couples who made it a point to cruise one week out of the month, and a couple who was on their honeymoon. I met a grandfather that used the phrase "as cute as a button" to describe his granddaughter.  I even met a 93 year old woman named Bernice at brunch who informed me of the benefits of eating ice cream. "It melts and goes into all the empty places," she said with a sly grin. "I would be in trouble if it all piled up."

Though each of these groups of people had never crossed paths before, they all had one thing in common. They were sharing experiences, sharing life, and making memories with people they loved.

Do you ever sit and think about what a small speck you are on the earth? While the thought could be intimidating, I don't think it has to be. I think maybe that is the way God intended it to be. When I think about it, it is so exciting that there are so many places to see, so many people to meet, and even better so many stories to hear. Joann and Shirley may have been in their seventies, but they were young at heart. They saw the world in front of them, and they were ready to see it.

After last week in Mexico and my trip to Canada several years ago, I have North America covered, at least enough to check it off the list for now. Perhaps its time to cross the big pond (is that the trendy thing to say these days?) to attend high tea on land.

For now, I'll have to settle for high tea at my friend's apartment. I'll take it. Whether in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on the high sea or thousands of miles across the world, I am so thankful God has placed so many people in my life who I love, people to share adventures with and learn from, people to laugh and cry with, people to travel with, and people to do everyday life with. People God Himself has written in my story to teach me what His love looks like and to walk alongside me as I learn about the world He created.

I raise my tea cup (or should I say my pinky) to many more trips with friends, family and loved ones, new places on the map, new memories, and living life with a young heart no matter the year on the calendar. Thanks to our new friends Joann and Shirley for sharing high tea and letting us be a part of your memories and helping us make new ones of our own.

on kindness, Aldi, and cutting in line.

Tuesday on the way home from work, I remembered that I needed to make a stop to purchase ingredients to make cookies to bring to small group. On my way to my typical stop, Target, something caught my eye. Aldi. Target trumped.

Aldi is one of those places, in my opinion, that you really have to want to go to or you will end up leaving frustrated. I would compare it to the Marshall's of the food world. The discounts are great, but you quickly realize that the organization, selection, and brands you recognize are indeed missing in the 3 aisles the store has to offer, hence the great prices. I openly admit that I love a good bargain though, and paying $1.00 for a carton of strawberries instead of $4.00 is well worth my cereal being labeled "Honey O's" instead of "Cheerios".

I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my car without a second thought. However, the moment I walked into the door, a man tapped me on my shoulder and stopped me frantically.

"I am SO sorry," he said.

I was confused, and my face probably showed it. Either this man had me confused with someone else, or I had missed something. I quickly asked him what he was sorry for. Judging by the panic on his face, it seemed serious. He then informed me that he had cut me off in the parking lot and then apologized several more times. I told the man that I hadn't noticed and assured him it was ok. He then told me that he hates being rude and inconsiderate and assured me he hadn't done it on purpose. I laughed (I should have been the one apologizing for being behind the wheel...I was so spaced out I didn't see someone cut me off) and assured him I wasn't upset and to not think twice about it. He thanked me and went on his way.

At the cash register, with my assortment of strawberries, lettuce, and Hershey's kisses on the conveyor belt, the cashier and I exchanged the typical "how are you today" type conversation. We talked about what a beautiful Spring day it was and how it would be hard to have anything but a good day with the sun shining the way it was. I thought back to Mr. parking lot. I have accidentally cut people off numerous times I am sure, but I can't think of one that I have sought out the driver to apologize. The weather. That must have been it.

As predicted, Aldi didn't have all of the ingredients I needed for my cookies, so I made an additional stop at Target. I wasn't upset about it. I don't think I have ever been upset about going to Target now that I think about it. I picked up the few items I needed and headed to the checkout. The lines were long, the cashiers were few, and the carts were full. The manager caught me looking around to other aisles and offered to check me out at the pizza hut counter so I wouldn't have to wait. I said thank you, and he assured me it was no problem...and then upsold my purchase to include a pina coalda icee. I left target with a smile on my face (icee's do that to you). The store manager must have caught wind of the Spring sunshine too.

Two stoplights away from home, I realized I had forgotten an essential ingredient for my peanut butter cookies. Peanut butter. After rationalizing that I couldn't make the cookies without it, I pulled into the next store I saw. Big Lots. If Aldi is the Marshall's of the food world, then Big Lots is the Ross. And as any bargain shopper knows, Marshalls and TJMaxx trump Ross.

I searched the chaotic, unorganized shelves for at least ten minutes and finally found a jar of peanut butter next to a can of chicken noodle soup and a box of crackers. I don't recommend Big Lots for grocery shopping. Nevertheless, I had my final ingredient and was ready to get home. When I got to the front of the store, I realized that only one lane was open, and the line was ten people deep. Each person's cart was full of all the "treasures" (I use that term lightly) one might find at Big Lots. I resigned to the fact that I would be there a while. The lady in front of me saw my singular jar of peanut butter and insisted I pass her in line. I told her that wasn't necessary, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. The same thing happened with the 9 consecutive customers in front of her in line, and before I knew it, I was at the front with no wait at all.

When I got back into my car to go home and started baking my cookies, I started thinking about all of the people I had encountered at my 3 stops that afternoon. I didn't know any of them. They had no vested interest in my life. We probably will never see each other again. They all had one thing in common though.

They cared enough to share kindness.

The people I encountered yesterday, even for a short while, reminded me that the little things really do make a difference. How many opportunities do I pass up during the day to share kindness that is so freely shared with me? If the number was counted, I am afraid I would be ashamed.

I think, too often, we tell ourselves that the little things don't matter. They won't make that much of a difference. If not that, we set our sites on our goals for the day and dare not turn our heads to those around us. 

The truth is though, the little things make all the difference. Whether that is holding a door, sharing a conversation or a smile, or letting someone pass you in the grocery line, it matters. It's sometimes easy to forget that we don't know what is going on in the lives of those we come into contact with each day.

Last week, I decided to memorize Colossians 3:12. It says, "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."

"Clothe yourself with kindness." I have been thinking a lot lately about what that means. I think I got a taste of it shopping yesterday.

A Bible study I was in a few months ago talked about how we "clothe" ourselves intentionally. It is not by accident. Just as we choose what clothes we put on in the morning, we also choose what attitudes and actions we put on and share with those we come into contact with each day. 

Sometimes I just want to go through my day and get everything on MY list done. Sometimes it seems like there are not enough hours to even do that. That verse reminds me, though, that I am called to so much more than that. I am called to share kindness and the love of Christ with those I do and don't know each day. Even when I am tired. Even when I am frustrated. And even when people and situations make it seem impossible to share love the way I should.

Then, I remember, that I am not good on my own. I am sinful and lost without Christ. He is the only good in me. His spirit lives in me and it is my job to let it shine over my human nature. Even when kindness isn't on the tip of my tongue, I can choose to stop and intentionally clothe myself in it.

Though I would like to think it does, kindness does not come solely from sunshine. It is placed in all of us by the Creator. Spring or winter, sunny or cloudy, whether we are walking through Marshall's or Neiman Marcus, our homes or downtown streets, the times we let Him shine through us matter.

A man at Aldi, a manager at Target, and 10 women at Big Lots all showed me kindness when they didn't have to. I wouldn't have thought twice about it if they hadn't. But more than the actions and words they shared, God used their hearts and intentionality to touch mine even just a little bit. Would it have hurt me to stand in line for 20 minutes to buy my peanut butter? No. Did it make a difference that these women let me cut in line?

From my heart, I wholeheartedly say that it did.

Don't look at my mess.

On Wednesday night a couple of weeks ago after work, as I was pulling into my apartment complex, I quickly realized I needed to turn around. I made a quick  u-turn and headed to the neighborhood market to purchase a couple of ingredients not always on hand in my kitchen. Cherries and juice.

Back in October, a coworker asked me if I would make him a cherry pie for his birthday...in February. I promised I would, honestly thinking we would both forget. However, I try to be a woman of my word, and, as it turns out, promises are not easily forgotten, especially when baked goods are involved.

The date on my phone signaled that the following day was the very day that had been pointed to on the office calendar periodically throughout the year followed by the daunting words "cherry pie." I was tired from travels earlier in the week and was momentarily frustrated with myself for forgetting to go shopping earlier. As I turned the car around, I took a deep breath and realized baking was just what I needed. Baking seems to be a cure all in the depths of my emotional being.

You may find pride in finishing a building project, completing a spreadsheet or getting a promotion. I find it in the golden edges of a pie crust or spending hours detailing a cookie. That's where we are different. Hopefully someday someone will attribute value to flour to sugar ratio and the spacing of royal icing on a sugar cookie. Until then, perhaps I should learn more about spreadsheets.

After I put my oven mitts away, I looked around the kitchen. There was flour on the floor, dough across the counter, and splotches of red cherry pie filling on the stove. Uncharacteristically, I didn't care. I opened the oven and saw the pie filling begin to simmer. I shut the oven and left the kitchen.

As much as I don't want to admit it, I am a perfectionist in many areas of my life, or at least I try to be. I probably won't invite you into my house unless my bed is made (if you have seen it otherwise, we are probably closer than you think), I apologize for things left on my living room floor, and I will make a mad dash to reach my house before you do so you don't see the pile of clean laundry I haven't yet folded. Mom, I'm sorry I developed these habits after I moved out of your house.

Isn't it the same for so many of us emotionally too often? It seems the proper way to start most any conversation is with the phrase "How are you?" While it may be true that we were late for work that morning, have an empty refrigerator, said words we didn't mean to our best friend on the phone the night before, and completely botched our budget for the month, that is not typically the way we respond to such a question. In most cases, we respond with the "proper response" of good (or your favorite generic adjective) and proceed in the conversation by returning the question to the sender.

Heaven forbid we let anyone in our life know anything is less than perfect. If we did, we might have to admit we are human... and well, who knows what would happen after that. Fear and doubt tell us people only love the things about us that are suitable for a Hallmark Greeting card. Doubt tells us that if people saw the real thing, they would run the other direction, and even if they stayed, it would be with hesitation. Fear tells us to keep it all in. Doubt lies and says everyone else has it together, so we should pretend we do too. Turns out doubt is telling us all the same lies, leaving us with little taste of what is really going on around us.

Sometimes I wish we could just pick up a baseball bat and hit those fears and insecurities over the head. Instead, we convince ourselves that someone will judge us for holding the bat wrong and never pick it up in the first place.

That's what I love about being in the kitchen. I make a mess, but I don't care. In the kitchen, I recognize that the mess is a part of the process. Without a little flour on the counter, the dough for my pie crust would never get rolled out. Without a sink of dishes, the ingredients for the crust would never get mixed together. And if I never opened a jar of cherry juice or a bag of cherries, I would have nothing to give but a empty pastry shell (still flaky and delicious, mind you...but the filling does add extra pizazz). In the kitchen, I can accept that the imperfections along the way are all a part of what create the beauty in the finished product.

I'm not perfect, and I'll be the first to tell you that. I can make you a list if you would like. We don't expect others to be perfect or have it together all the time, so why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to create the appearance of a standard we do not seek out or expect in others?

In one of my favorite books, the author tells a story (much more eloquently than this) about her basement being her hiding place for her messes when guests came over. She was always careful to make sure that door was shut for the duration of her friends' visits. However, one afternoon, the door was ajar and a friend ended up seeing the basement. gasp. Much to the author's surprise, her friend walked up the basement stairs (much to the author's horror to realize where her friend had been) laughing and smiling with relief. The friend was relieved that she was not the only one with a basement of her own. Let's put it out there. We all have our basements, physically and emotionally. By pretending we don't, we aren't doing ourselves any favors. Dehumanizing ourselves takes away a level of relatability that creates a genuine quality in relationships.

The small group I am in has been doing a study on doubts women struggle with on a daily basis. A couple of weeks ago, we talked about the fear of failure and the whispers of doubt that too often echo "I'm not good enough." Reading the chapters, I winced realizing how much the subject resonated with me. Does anyone else hear those voices? I'm not successful enough. I'm not outgoing enough. I'm not confident enough. I'm not....The list could go on. Though sometimes quiet, the voice of doubt is persistent.

It's so easy to believe these lies that doubt weaves into our thought patterns. These thoughts become what we believe, which in turn has a huge effect on our actions. The truth is, we don't have to be perfect, and we don't have to pretend to be either. I read somewhere this week that the cracks in our lives create a space for the light of Christ to shine through. By sharing in life together authentically, we can see the ways God is working to refine one another, and let Him use us to lighten the load in each other's lives, whether that be through encouragement, prayer, or even a good shared laugh.

Let's make a deal. I'll try not to hide my messes if you try not to hide yours. Don't worry, I'm not going to call you ten times a day and word vomit my problems. I will however, try my hardest to be real, to live my life recognizing that everything doesn't always go according to plan and that's okay. We are in this together and maybe we have been placed on the same path to not only share in each other's joys, but learn from each other's mistakes, and pick one another up when we fall.

Without the mess, we wouldn't be refined. Without the mess, we wouldn't need a Savior to mold and shape us each day. Without the mess, we wouldn't have the same story and perhaps wouldn't have the same opportunity to relate and minister to the people God places in our paths. 

Let's promise to see the person and not the mess. Let's look for the beauty and listen to the story. Let's live our lives together, take chances, make a few messes, and let Him refine us along the way. Let's accept that a mess is sometimes a part of the process. Let's seek to love and see the way He does.

He looks at me and doesn't see a mess. He looks past the mess and sees my heart. There is no pile of laundry, stack of dishes, emotional blunder, or physical mishap that can separate us from the love that He wants to lavish on us through the grace of His Son. I'm thankful that He saved me, mess and all.

hominy

Last night before small group, I had some time to kill, so I decided I would try to find something to put together for dinner in my kitchen. It was too cold to go out, at least to go out more than absolutely necessary, and I had a kitchen full of food, so even if it had been a balmy 80 degrees (I wish), I couldn't justify driving down the street to get something else.

I opted for chicken and salad, (before you stop reading, this is not a blog post solely about what I ate for dinner...if that's what you are looking for, the images on instagram between 5 and 7 from 40% of the people you follow can satisfy that craving) and decided I should find one more thing to add to my plate.

I looked through my cupboard and freezer, and after shuffling a few things around, a can caught my eye. It was a can of hominy.

This wasn't the first time I had seen that can in the past couple of months. A while back, I was cooking dinner with a friend and asked if she liked hominy. She said she had never heard of it. I tried to explain what it was, but apparently my description was sub-par as evidenced by the look on her face seemingly screaming, "please don't tell me I have to eat that". Reluctantly I put it back in the cupboard, much to my pleasure to find it yesterday.

I love hominy. I'm not so sure if it is so much the way it tastes as it is what it reminds me of. Certain things in life have the ability to trigger nostalgia, and food, hominy in this case, is one of them. I have a strange memory. I seem to sometimes forget important facts about people and events that seem to be obvious to others, however, there are some things I always remember. You can be sure I will remember the conversations I have and the food I am fed. I'm not sure what this says about me, but it is true.

Growing up, my sister and I would take trips to my Memaw and Papaw's house. They lived in Canyon, Texas until I was in first grade and then moved ten minutes down the street from us. From that point on, trips became more frequent. Each of those visits contained good memories and of course good food. When I think about Memaw and Papaw's house, I think of pot roast, mashed potatoes, and hominy. Mashed potatoes were almost always a given, because they knew it was one of my favorite foods.

While I was eating dinner last night, hominy and all, I started thinking of all the things I miss about growing up. I miss being 5 years old, riding in the back seat with my sister, and counting cows with our Papaw. I miss needing to sit on a phone book to reach the table at dinner. I miss pretending my Memaw and Papaw's rug in the living room was a ship that my sister and I dare not let our dolls fall overboard into the water (or was it lava). I miss watching my Memaw get ready to go out and the way her perfume smelled. I miss the way she called me Kelly Ree, and I miss the way she could shop and talk better than anyone I have ever met. I miss being ten minutes down the road from my Papaw and being able to talk face to face instead of over the phone.

I miss spending half days off school with my mom and sister at the park. I miss our trips to the library and making up stories about Silly Sally and Alfredo the Elephant. I miss fighting in the bathroom with my sister in the mornings and whispering in bed on Christmas Eve. I miss rebelling with my mom and eating a banana split for lunch with a bag of jelly belly's for "dessert". I miss special weekends with my dad when my mom was away, and I miss sitting in the living room with my dad and Papaw on holidays. I miss the closeness, the meals, and the memories.

The list could go on and on. Thinking back, though, more than I miss those things I am thankful for them. I am thankful for a family who loves me with no end. I am thankful God surrounded me with people growing up who taught me about Him, laughed with me, cried with me, and supported me at my worst and at my best. I am thankful for a family who still does all of those things, even though I'm not five years old any more and live more than a couple of hours down the road. I am thankful that even though none of us are perfect and we all know that about eachother, it doesn't change anything.

As easy as it is to wish for the days of carefree childhood, I am thankful that we always go forward instead of having the option to go backward. I am thankful for pot roast and hominy and all the meals and conversations that have brought me to where I am now and shaped me to be the person that I am, not perfect, but growing and learning each day.

If the Lord blesses me with a family of own some day, I can only hope I can provide half the warmth and memories each of you have provided for me over the past 25 years. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for coming to my spelling bees, Christmas musicals and sporting events. Thank you for teaching me it's ok to let loose and eat a sundae for lunch every once in a while. Thank you for sharing your world with me and teaching me to walk with confidence into mine.

Thank you Lord, for the family you so carefully placed me in. Thank you for the love you have and continue to show me through them. Thank you, Lord, for all the future holds.

And thank you, Lord, for hominy.

un-stretched.

With it being the first month of a new year, I have seen post after post listing resolutions, goals, and words to claim for the year. The pastor at my church preached a sermon on choosing a word for the year, so these posts have been even more frequent this year than most. Yes, I claimed a word for myself, too, but that is not what I want to write about.

Amidst all of these posts from people I know, I ran across a blog that caught my eye. This blogger in particular challenged readers to choose a "un-word" for 2014. At first glimpse, the word "un-word" made my grammar senses cringe, as do most words that are not found in the Merriam Webster dictionary. After a few seconds, I let that go and kept reading. She challenged her readers to choose something they would not do...something they would not be any longer. She then wanted all those who participated to "link up" their blog post to hers all on the same particular day. I am not sure what exactly a "link up" is, and the day she mentioned most certainly has passed, but the thought of an "un-word" has not left my mind.

It only took me a few seconds to know what I need to let go of this year. I need to stop saying yes. At least saying yes to everything.

"Un-yes" is too far of a cry from a real word so I began my search for a comparable "un-word" to ascribe.

"Un-divided" made me think of the pledge of allegiance. Agreeable and pleasant popped into my head,  but if I told you I plan on being "un-agreeable" and "un-pleasant" in 2014, I might send everyone I care about running for the hills. After placing "un-" in front of a slew of words that made me sound like an angry, apathetic, or heartless person, I found my un-word.

{Un-stretched}

I have always been a "busy" person. I love people, conversations, and learning new things. With that in mind, saying "yes" is usually an immediate reaction. Looking back on the past couple of years, I can think of countless times I could look over the next couple of weeks on a calendar and see that every night was full. That is great for a season, but for an introvert like me, looking at a schedule like that for an extended period of time is enough to make me want to pull my hair out.

If it is a good thing, I usually say yes. One more volunteer opportunity? Why not? If someone would get upset if I said no, I definitely say yes. If I have an open night, I say yes. If I don't have an excuse I can't say no, can I?

A voice in my head too often tells me, "You are letting people down if you don't do this. You are a bad person if you don't sign up for that opportunity. You can do it all. You can fit one more thing in..."

Life, as it seems to me, is a delicate balance, one I haven't quite mastered yet. I only lasted for a year in gymnastics at the age of 6 (turns out if you can't do a cartwheel that is a red flag). Balance has never been one of my strong points, both on and off of a balance beam. If I am not teetering one way, I seem to be tottering the other, weighted down with the "yes's" of yesterday and the filled blanks on my calendar.

If I could, I would do it all. I would be a for profit blogger, floral enthusiast, book store clerk, calligrapher,  librarian, and baker, to name a few. I would be everyone's best friend, fill every night of the week with multiple coffee dates, read every book on the NYT best seller list, and say yes to every volunteer opportunity. I would have two jobs and pay off my car in a year, all the while leaving 2 hours at the end of the day to relax and unwind.

Turns out I don't have the know-how, skill set, or time to do many of those things. Even if I did, that wouldn't be a healthy way to live.

I read a post the other day that said this: "Saying no even though it's hard to do frees me up to say yes to what matters."

Several months ago, my "yes's" hit me like a brick wall. I was feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, and stretched. There in front of me was a list of great things I was involved in. The problem, however, was that I felt like I was doing a bunch of things halfway instead of a few things with my whole heart.

I had several conversations with a mentor and
a good friend about what margin looked like, why I didn't have it, and how to find it.

They reminded me that just because something is a good opportunity, it doesn't mean it is necessarily a good opportunity for me. They reminded me that God blesses each of us with talents and abilities to accomplish the specific tasks he places before us.  They challenged me to seek God in what those areas were and then cut back on the things that didn't fit that mold and were taking away time from what God really wanted me to be doing.

After lots of prayer, some tears, and several internal battles, I did it. I started to let go. Instead of feeling like a failure, however, I felt a sense of peace. When I let go of some fillers, I began to see God open up doors for opportunities that filled me up instead of drained me. I saw God move in to the space that I wasn't willing to leave open for him before.

In the ever so eloquent words of John Michael Montgomery (can I call a 49 year old country singer eloquent?), life is a dance you learn as you go. Even though I may step on a few feet along the way (both literally and figuratively), I am learning to love the dance that has been placed before me. My steps aren't perfect and sometimes I turn the wrong way, but I am learning that's ok. I'm learning to laugh and learn from my mistakes and accepting that I will make mistakes again.

Three years ago, I learned that I will never know it all, that I will always be seeking and growing in the Lord. Two years ago, I learned to place my trust in God first, not in the physical securities around me. Last year, I learned that God is ever present and provides blessings through the people he places in my life at just the right time.
 
This year I am learning to say no. I am learning to say no to things that are just fillers. I am seeking to stop saying yes when I don't want to, or even when I just can't. I am learning to say no to that little voice that tells me I need to make everyone happy.  I am learning to say no to say no to fear of disappointing others and that tight feeling I get in my chest when I realize I can't add one more thing to my list. I am learning that saying no isn't always bad.

I am learning to say no so I can say yes to Jesus. I am learning listen so I can say yes to the things He calls me to do. I am learning to seek God's voice before I give a yes or no. I'm learning that a little bit of silence and stillness invites God to fill in the blanks in my day.

When I am stretched with things I decide to do on my own, I am forgetting that God wants to help me grow strong in the opportunities he gives me, not stretch me thin.

I can be "un-stretched" because I know that God is bigger than any area, time or space I can seek to fill with doing and stretching on my own. No matter the "un-word" I ascribe to my year, I serve a God who is unchanging. His love is unfathomable and his love for each of us is unending.

Expect the Unexpected.

I have been asked several times over the past few weeks what my new years resolutions are and what I am looking forward to in the new year. These questions naturally made me think back on the past year (not that it takes much for me to be reflective), all I that has happened, and all I have learned.

Last year, I resolved to not make any New Year's resolutions. I probably was just trying to go against the grain. However, that is not to say that 2013 was not a year of growth, change, and memorable experiences. As I thought back, I realized it was quite the contrary.

This might sound cliche (what are blogs for after all), but 2013 was the fastest year I have yet experienced. I boarded several airplanes, traveled to places I had never been, purchased a car on my own, celebrated the birth of a new niece, celebrated the weddings and engagements of several friends, entered a cherry pie in the state fair, helped photograph a wedding, and formed new friendships, relationships, and mentorships. 2013 has held it's share of laughs, tears, long conversations, and life realizations.

Whether I want to admit it or not, I'm a planner. I like to know what is going to happen and when. Turns out life doesn't usually work that way, but looking back on the past year, I would have to say that I am glad.

All of my favorite things about the past year were things I didn't plan for. I didn't ask God for them, and I couldn't have come up with them on one of the countless lists that cover my desk at work (yes, I should add that I killed a tree this year with the amount of "to do" lists I made to my list of yearly accomplishments).

The friendships and relationships I have built over the past year leading up to this point have been one of the biggest blessings in my life thus far. People I was just getting to know or hadn't even met yet this time last year are now some of the biggest parts of my life. This year, God has brought people into my life who daily inspire me to be better, point me toward him, ask me tough questions, and even people who will won't keep talking to me about a situation if I haven't prayed about it first. This year, God has brought me joy and laughter, all while teaching me more about myself, Him, and His world.

Last week, a good friend sent me a blog to read. In it, the author listed Psalm 16:11. I looked it up, and it stuck with me (and is literally stuck to my bathroom mirror as well). It reads:

"You make known to me the path of life, you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand."

Over and over again, it seems, God reminds me that His plans are better than mine. You think by now, I would have learned that lesson, but thankfully God is a God of grace who doesn't seem to mind sending the same gentle reminders over and over again to a chronic list maker like me.

That verse in Psalm exemplifies what I feel I learned as a whole in the past year. It was a year of learning how to trust and how to let go. God showed me his faithfulness in ways I could have never imagined. By letting go and trusting in Him, His plans fell into place with each step I took, reminding me once again, that plans I make on my own pale in comparison. The beauty and joy that followed taught me to cherish the unexpected - the trust it requires and the beauty it creates. In the past year I have experienced joy in a new way, a joy that I found by stopping the plans and taking time to notice the small moments God places in front of me each day as they come.

This year, I actually did make a list of New Year's resolutions. I won't list them all here, but I do plan on using more postage stamps this year (I'll gladly take your address) and reluctantly joined the other resolution junkies at the gym last night. Resolutions aside, I know beyond a doubt what I am looking forward to the most in 2014, and it's not the accomplishment of any of the goals I established on my list.

This year, I hope and pray for the unexpected.  I expect God to work in ways I can't fathom at this moment. I recognize that the people, circumstances and conversations coming from the Lord over the next 12 months will be the things that change my life and give me the opporutnity to be His hands and feet to work in the lives of those around me. I am looking forward to the unexpected and waiting expectantly for God to work in big ways.

As you go into 2014, expect the unexpected. Expect beauty. Expect God to blow you away when you hand your life over to Him. And expect the joy that He promises will follow.

Here's to 2014. Here's to joy. And here's to another new year where we don't have to walk alone.