The Reflection of God To Our Children

I have a hope, it's that God sat over the dark nothing and wrote you and me, specifically, into the story, and put us in the sunset and the rainstorm as though to say, enjoy your place in my story. The beauty of it means you matter, and you can create within it even as I have created you. - Don Miller

When I think deeply over this truth I am reminded what I have purposed in my heart to be as a mother to my children. I reflect on my intentions of wholeheartedly wanting to be a woman who slows the world down for their childhood, creating memories and enchantment in the most ordinary days. A mom that they wake up and see reading the word of God and one that is intentional about connection and observation in tiny matters of their hearts.

But social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest can be mass weapons of distraction. They can be valuable sources of encouragement and kinship or they can be a tool used by the enemy to distract my life from my children. In each inattentive moment I am scrolling and double tapping wishing they would stop "bothering" me for "just 5 more minutes" defines God a little bit more clearly for my child. The times I make the effort to create a fun day for them and take them to exciting places are important, but they pale in comparison to the image of God that I am reflecting to them when they need me most. An image that I define little by little, day by day.

My prayer today is that we don't let ourselves be distracted, but be still, listen to our children and reflect to them what we know our Father is for us when we approach His throne. He is never too distracted for us or bothered by us. Our part in their story matters just as much as our part in our own. So pray for me today momma, as I pray for you and the portrait you paint to your children of God's everlasting love and vigilance of our hearts. #makeitcount

Life's Weaving

My grandparents. They were adorable. Inseparable.

I always loved to hear the story about how they met. It was a timeless classic that proved that irresponsible, irrational attraction can grow into love. And more than anything, it was proof to me, that true love lasts more than a lifetime, in fact, it lasts far beyond it.

They both came from humble beginnings. They never knew wealth. And they never really cared. They knew what made a person truly rich, and that, they both had. 

He was in the army. To this day, one of the most stout men I have ever seen. He is strong in every sense of the word. He had that German look to him. Tall, strong, confident. Until the army he had never been outside of Beckville, Texas. All he knew growing up was working in the cotton field for a few cents a day. The war was something new to him, something real and life changing. It made him realize what was important in life. It made him want to love.

She was living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. With big bright eyes and long brown hair, she was watching her parents fall in love with America. Italy was all they had known. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it what you want, but on that one perfect day she decided to go to the park in Pittsburgh with a couple of her girlfriends. Her life would never be the same.

The soldiers pulled up on a bus, coming through that town, and they all gazed out of the windows at the people enjoying themselves in the park.

That is when he saw her.

She had her bluejeans rolled up and she was barefoot. She laughed, she ran, she had the most beautiful spirit he had ever seen. So he decided to get off the bus.

Without nerves, without fears, he walked right up to her and asked her where her shoes were. After minutes of talking and laughing with each other, they knew. He asked her - "are you coming to Texas with me, or not?" They joke that he never really asked her to marry him, but when she finally grabbed her shoes and headed home to pack... he counts that as a yes.

Both of my grandparents passed away in the last couple of years but today would have been their 68th wedding anniversary. And I miss them both more than I could ever explain on some silly blog. 

Saying Goodbye To A One Year Old.

I hadn't really thought of it that way.

Sure, I've thought about how time is flying. How it doesn't seem like 2 years since we held that perfect little person for the first time. I've often thought about how I will turn around and he will be going off to school. And I'll turn again and he will be driving a car. Another spin and he's in college. Married. Has a family of his own. And dizzy and confused I will sit and wonder - where did the years go? But it wasn't until I watched my husband walk out of our son's room on Tuesday night with tears in his eyes, that I realized what we were doing. 

"What's the matter?" I asked him. "Why are you about to cry?"

"Because I just said - 'goodnight my little one year old. I love you. I'm gonna miss you.'"

He was right. I was so caught up in the celebration of another year of life and fun and love with my son that I hadn't even thought about the fact that we were saying goodnight to our one year old for the very last time. That changed things. I held onto my husband, sobbing from a place deep within my chest. I didn't want to say goodnight to him. I didn't want to let him go. That year, and all of it's illuminating days are gone. We blinked and our child went from a crawler who looked at us with bright loving eyes to a runner that can now tell us that he loves us.

It has been such an amazing year. Our son has blossomed into the little toddler I always knew he would be. There is so much I love about him. I love that he loves to make us laugh. I love that every night before bed he gives me kisses between the crib bars, one kiss for each space, all the way down the crib. I love that his favorite song is a Coldplay song. That he passes out hugs like nobody I have ever seen, arms wide open. Even the cashiers can't help but come around their registers and give him that hug he was wanting. I love that his favorite characters are already the underdogs - like The Little Engine That Could. And I love that he is so full of life and light and energy.

But he is also full of hope and promise of things to come. And with the sadness of saying
goodbye to our one year old, also comes a silver lining.

Saying HELLO to our two year old.

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.”
― Maya Angelou

If Our Life Had a Soundtrack...

 The night before Valentine's Day, I was downloading several songs to burn onto a cd to be part of my husband's "goody surprise" when he woke up the next morning. I entitled the CD "If Our Life Had A Soundtrack" (sappy, I know) and included songs that have been important parts of our lives - from the song he played on the guitar and sang to me on our first date, to songs in our wedding, to our son's favorite song to dance to in the living room.

As I was downloading this music and listening to the songs, it reminded me of how far we've come, what a good man he is, and how incredibly blessed I am to have him. So, since I haven't posted about how much I respect and admire my husband in quite some time (it's been all about the kiddo), I thought that maybe now - a couple of weeks before our 5 year Anniversary, would be as good a time as any.

When things feel hectic in our lives, busy, stressful, chaotic ... when I feel like I want be able to give more of myself, my time, and my energy to being the wife that I truly desire to be, I always have to stop for a second and come back to how I got here. Remembering those things always motivates me to push harder, make the time, and do little things for him to show him how much I love him. Too often, when a couple has children and things get busy and they have to devote so much time to the kids and their activities, a lot of marriages go up in flames because those two people forgot who they were, why they fell in love, and how blessed they are to have each other.

It's like when you are ready to move from the house you are living in. Remember that feeling when you were renting? All the little things that were "wrong" just overwhelmed you and consumed your thoughts. Maybe the refrigerator leaks, and you wished you could see the beautiful countryside out your back door, and maybe you have a couple of beetles that find their way in once a month or so .... and all you keep thinking to yourself is how much you want to move, and how you can't wait to get into another house. And then you do.

And this new house is not everything you expected it to be. Sure, you got rid of the "problems" you had before, but now you've got new ones. Probably worse ones. You traded a leaky fridge for a leaky shower. And a couple of beetles for brown recluse spiders, and you miss living in that quiet neighborhood where you once felt so safe. You couldn't wait to get out of there, but now you realize just how incredibly blessed you were to be in that house. All you can think to yourself is - I'd give anything to have that back again. It wasn't nearly as awful as I thought.

I think that is also how a lot of people view a failing marriage. When the going gets tough, they want to jump ship immediately. So maybe your husband leaves his dirty socks on the floor, or doesn't tell you you're pretty anymore like he used to, or won't lift a finger to help you ... whatever it is that keeps telling you in your head - "things would be so much better if I had just married someone that ______," don't be so quick to think the grass is always greener. It's not. Sometimes, you don't get grass, at all. Sometimes, you're stuck with dirt.

When you start to think of little quirks and things that bother you about your spouse, take a minute and reflect on the blessing he is to you. How hard he works for you. How sweet and kind he is to you. Remember why you fell in love in the first place. That is one thing that I think husbands and wives don't do enough. They don't want to have to dig back into that place in their brain where they have stored their memories. DIG. Once a month, if not more, remind yourself of how and why you fell in love and why you STAY in love with your spouse. Listening to old songs that you both love sure is a good reminder. A lot of women watch too many romance movies, or read too many romance novels. In those, the men that the women fall for are all smooth talking, hard working, best friend material, fun dads who always fight for the girl. Right?

Well, I'm willing to bet, if you take a closer look at your husband, he's all those things ... and more. And he's not on the big screen. He's right beside you. I'm lucky enough to watch those romance movies, look at my life and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I've got that. In fact, I've got so much more. 

So here goes ... there are several reasons I am blessed to be married to my husband, but for now, I will stick with the Top Five that you might just see in the movies-


5. He knows all the right things to say

I don't mean he's a "schmoozer". His words don't come from a vain or empty place. He says what he means and he means what he says. But for this list, I'm not talking about his words to me. I'm talking about his words to God.

My husband prays the most beautiful prayers.

Always has.

It was one of the very first things that attracted me to him, and it is surely one of the things that continues to remind me how very blessed I am even after 5 years of marriage. There is an AW Tozer quote that says - "As a man prays, so he is." This is so true of my husband. His prayers are genuine, humble, thoughtful, and passionate. I rarely ever feel as deeply in love with him, as I do when we are holding hands and praying to God.

I don't need him to get up on some grandiose balcony and spit out all the things he loves about me. I can feel how much he loves me when he prays to God for my heart and soul.


4. He works so hard to support us.

It is such a blessing that I get to stay at home with our one year old son. Sometimes, I'm not quite sure how we make it work, but we do. I know my husband has a lot of pressure on him to make sure that I don't have to go back to work. His job gets really stressful and sometimes he has to work really late hours. I appreciate every moment he puts in for us. And as if it's not enough that he works extremely hard at his job, he is the type of man that comes home, gives our son a bath, cleans up the kitchen after I cook dinner, or helps with little things to make my life easier.

He could just get home and plop on the couch and tell me how hard his day at work is, but he doesn't. He sees taking care of our son and helping me with things around the house as a privilege and not a job. Having a husband like that also gives me perspective, that as worn out as I am at the end of the day, it is a privilege that I get to do things for him, take care of the house, do our laundry, cook his dinner, and take care of/teach our child all day. In other words, he is the type of man that makes being a woman, a stay at home wife and mother, so sweet.  I respect and adore him so much for allowing me to strive to be the wife and mother that I desire to be. I'm far from it, but he always makes me feel closer than I am.


3. He's my very best friend.

We've taken a couple of road trips in the last month. I love road trips. They always give me time to think about life. On one of them, I pulled out my phone and flipped to a website I had bookmarked called 30 Questions to Ask Your Spouse on a Road Trip. We had so much fun asking these questions to each other and answering them. I love that he tells me random Biblical facts while we are driving. I love that we play a game of compromise after he has listened to an hour of music and wants to listen to talk radio. And I love that I always win that game. ;) Music always wins, folks.

I love that he says something at least once a day that makes me laugh out loud. I love that he gets annoyed when something happening in a cartoon movie where the animals talk is "unrealistic". I love that he always brings me surprises home from the store if he stops to pick something up on the way home. And that his favorite part is watching my face when he shows me what he got.

I love that he loves to be silly with me. I love that he still wants to kiss me every time he sees me. I love that he has the worst memory in the world and tells me every time we pass something on the road what it is, like he's never told me before. I love that he always points out planes and squirrels.

And I love ... that I get to spend every day of my life with him.


2. He is such an amazing dad.

I knew he would be. I'm not surprised. One of my favorite times of the day is when he gets home from work. We hear the keys in the door, and he peeks around the corner for our son to see that he is home. The look of love and excitement on both of their faces as they walk toward each other is one of the most special things that a mother can see. I know that all day he is waiting for that moment.

There are two reasons I know that he is going to raise our son in the best way possible. One, because he is in the here and now. He takes time to read him stories. To play with him. To rock him in his lap when he is getting sleepy. He gets joy out of seeing our son reach milestones and try new things that he ends up loving. And two, because being the man he is, he will continue to be an example for him as he is growing up. To watch and see what a man of honesty and integrity looks like. A man of God. To see what it looks like for a husband to love his wife, deeply. What it means to forgive, to be compassionate, to be loyal. To work hard and provide for his family. To be consistently spiritual. I know that if our son grows up to be anything like his daddy, he will be a man with a heart of gold.

The best way to teach a child is by example.

1. He fought for me.

 Around this time of year, six years ago, I sat alone on my porch swing outside my quiet little house in the country. I watched the wind blow through the trees that surrounded me and felt the warm glow of the evening sun on my face before it disappeared below the line of trees in the distance.

I remember this day, because it was different than any other day in my life. It was the gentle tap of God's finger on the row of dominoes that started everything into motion. I got a phone call from a guy I barely knew and he was interested in getting to know me better.

It was a tricky situation.

To say I had "issues" might be the understatement of the century.  I had serious fear. Fear of losing anything that I cared deeply about. Because of that fear, I wanted to control everything in my life. Fear drove a lot of poor decisions I made in my twenties. It made me have trust issues. It made me unforgiving and over emotional. I had words inside my head that replayed every day of my life, and I was scared I'd never be able to get rid of them.

I wasn't worth loving.

I wasn't worth the hassle. I'll be the first to admit it.

And everyone told him to turn around and run ... and never look back. I told him to run, my best friends told him to run, his family told him to run, even my exes told him to run. We all warned him.  I was a destructive tornado that left nothing in my path. I held on so tight to all of the things I feared would slip through my hands, that I simply crushed them.

But one day, he sat me down and looked me in the eyes and told me - I understand what you're telling me, but I believe you're worth it.

He said that he could see past all the layers of hurt and shame and fear and all of the ugly stuff that I had wrapped myself up in, and he could see straight to the heart of me. And he wasn't going anywhere. He told me that one day, he was going to marry me. The real me. I could believe him, or not.  He was going to fight my demons. Carry my baggage. Strip apart my layers. Fix the parts of me that were broken. He would do whatever it took to make sure he had me as his wife for the rest of his life. As undeserving as I was. He never gave up on me.

That alone is enough to make me want to be the best wife in the world for him. And sometimes life does get busy, and we put our love on the "back burner" so to speak to take care of other things. But I hope he will read this and know, that even five years after saying I do, I still realize how incredibly blessed I am that he walked into my life and fell in love with my heart.

 I certainly fell in love with his.



Revealed.

I remember what Sunday mornings used to be like. Before I spent them in the nursery, wrestling what feels like a twenty pound bag of snakes. Sweating. Rolling my eyes at myself because I just had to wear this dress and it sure doesn't make it easy for me to move nor is it comfortable in the least bit. Before I had my hair pulled constantly and my bracelets ripped off, fighting a sleepy child.

Before these days, I sat comfortably in my pew. Bible in my lap, maybe a notepad out to take some notes. My husband's arm around me, listening attentively with absolute peace of mind.

I look in front of us now, on most Sunday mornings, before I leave to head to the nursery to listen to the sermon in there - because my child won't stop squealing or babbling or crying or screaming or just trying to flirt with the pretty girls that sit behind us, distracting everyone in plain view. I juggle the books, toys, snacks, and anything and everything else within arms reach I can use to distract him, but nothing works. I see the young couples in the rows, pointing out things to each other in their Bibles, cuddled close together with the husband's arm around the wife, calmness on their faces. That used to be us, I tell myself, as I stand up with my son in my arms, look down at our train wreck of a pew, the lonesome gap between my husband and I, grab my bag and let out a big huff of breath to display my discouragement. 

It is one of those inevitable moments where I feel like I wasn't cut out for this mother stuff.

And then, once we get into the nursery, something in that moment is revealed to me.

I finally get him calmed down, tuck his little arm under mine, and begin to rock him slowly. The room is quiet and still. We stare at the mint green wall with the beautifully painted tree. And I see his head lift up to look me in the eyes. Over the speaker the preacher talks of being aware of our treasures. And at that moment, I am. He snuggles up closer to me, and I can feel his head relax on my bicep, eyelids having trouble staying opened. The way the light hits his skin makes it shimmer, almost like there is gold in it. He falls asleep with a little bit of a smile on his face. I wanted to be in there, with them.... but he, he is right where he wanted to be. And it is revealed to me, that as exhausting as motherhood is sometimes, and as much as it has changed the routine I've been so comfortable with, I can't imagine being like those couples in the pew again. I can't imagine not looking over at my husband and chuckling when a big burp comes out of such a little body. I can't imagine little arms not flailing in front of me as we sing our hymns. I can't imagine not seeing a little finger tracing the shapes in the books we pull out with hesitation.

And I can't, as much as I could try, imagine a Sunday morning ... with empty arms.

Being a mother has revealed to me that as much as I loved the honeymoon phase, this chapter of our lives is far better and I could never imagine life again, without my little shadow.

He's a little wobbly now. I watch his chubby thighs squat as he figures out a way to get down from the object he just pulled up on. Just three weeks ago he was learning to crawl. Today, he is standing while holding on to things and taking steps to get closer. He changed so quickly from the quiet little baby that we carried around to the child that illuminates every room we bring him into. 

If someone could tell me how to stop this clock, and just be allowed to sit here, in this day I've spent with my son until I feel I've soaked up enough of it, I'd give anything. If I could stop the sun from setting, just for one day, just for a little while, until I felt enough sugars on my lips, saw enough smiles, and heard enough laughter to have it memorized in my soul, I can assure you, I would. But that's not what a sun is for. It's for counting our days. For reminding us that we have only a short amount of time to fill them with as much significance and joy as we can.

I often find myself staring at him when he doesn't know I'm watching, just playing with his toys and jabbering to himself. He always focuses so intently on everything he wants to play with. Sometimes I wonder if he'll one day be an architect. No matter what type of fun or colorful toy he touches, he is always inquisitive about how it is assembled. Such a promising little mind that I am helping shape and mold. And as I watch him, I feel an overwhelming sense of  happiness to know that he is a part of me. But with the happiness always comes a little bit of sadness when I remember that I will only be given one of these moments, just like this.

And I can never get it back.   

Being a mother has revealed to me that life flies by entirely too fast and as much as I ache to, I can't slow down a single day, or a single moment, of this beautiful journey.

Last week, I traveled back to where I grew up for a day in order to help my mom get some of my grandmother's things in order. I sat there with her, looking through old photo albums, watching her face light up when she saw one of my brother and me years ago. They were faded, partly because of the quality of cameras back then, but mostly because they had been in the book, behind the cover, for almost 30 years. But what isn't faded, are my memories of my childhood with my mother.

Two things I would never be able to separate in my mind are music and my childhood. I can still see her, in her lightly washed flare leg bluejeans with big vertical pockets, dancing to Gary Morris songs on our living room floor. She always encouraged us to dance with her, and so we would get up from whatever had our attention at the time, grab her hands and start moving. I have no doubt in my mind that it brought my mother so much joy to share those moments with us. If I had only known then that she was probably wishing to freeze that moment, I would have made it last so much longer. For her. I wouldn't have raced back to my barbies or my play "school". I would have held her hands and danced with her there until she let go. I would have stretched it out as long as I could. For her.

 For me.

I had no idea how much my mother loved me. It wasn't hard to guess. She has always been nothing but selfless for me and my brother. She has always given anything and everything to ensure our safety and happiness. I was pretty sure I could imagine just how much she probably loved me as I got older, but I could never really understand until I had my son. And now I know.

She had it much harder than I do. She didn't have the Internet to google questions about baby foods or sleep patterns. She didn't have Pinterest to show her how to make homemade wipes or a Halloween costume. She learned as she went along and she did such an amazing job. I see a lot of her in myself. I say words to my son that I haven't heard in years, words that she used to say to us. I catch myself using the same looks and turning on the same music for us to dance to in the morning.

I couldn't make time stop for my mother. And I sure can't make it stop for me.

But if my children grow up, and look back on their childhood with affection and tenderness, and think that I have done even half the job with them that my mother did with us, I will be satisfied.

  

Being a mother has revealed to me what a wonderful mom I am blessed to have.

 

  Motherhood is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. It is long sleepless nights and half eaten dinners. It is chasing around a speedy crawler and full hands and fumbling keys on the way to the car. It's even Sunday mornings in the nursery. And I'm only ten months in.

But I wouldn't trade a second of it, not for anything in the world. It reveals something new to me every day. Something about who I am, who God is, and what a blessing I've been given in my son. All I can do when I'm having one of those days where I'm feeling as though maybe I'm not cut out for this mother stuff, is to be aware of my treasures. Be conscious that this is the best we get in life. These are some of my happiest days. Even worn out, when I lay my head on the pillow at night and think back on all I've done with my son that day and all that has made me laugh and smile, it was worth it. And I can't slow the days down, not a bit. But I can make sure I use them up. And show him how much I love him every opportunity I get. Just like my mother did for me.

... On Soul Mates



I was talking with one of my friends the other night about a very complex topic. One that most people don't even like to delve into because of the heaviness of its reality. And she, being a little older and never married, wanted to know my opinion on the subject.

After a few minutes of tiptoeing around the question I know she was dying to ask, probably afraid of my answer, she just came out with it.

"Do you believe in soul mates?"

She wanted me to say yes.

I could feel it. Through the phone, miles away, I could sense her holding her breath. Closing her eyes. Hoping. Not because it would really make a difference what MY opinion was. But because she has been told NO for so long, she just needed some hope again.

She wanted me to tell her that long before I ever dreamed of a marriage, my path was already set. And that path was to meet Adam, fall in love, and live happily ever after. And she wanted me to tell her, that I truly believed, that the same thing was going to happen for her. That the other half of her soul was out there,  just waiting to be found.

And so I sat there.

On the other side of the phone ... in silence. The last thing I wanted to do was get her hopes up or to let her down.

So I asked her to let me think about it. Really think about it. To take it seriously. To research it. To study it. To see what I could find. Not just what my "hopeless romantic" heart wanted to abruptly answer. Not just the words that I thought would comfort her. But what I really feel to be true.

So after a lot of contemplating these last few days, studying, and researching, here is what I've decided.

Do I believe in Soul Mates?

Yes.

... Kind of. 

But not the "soul mates" that society believes in. Not the kind you see in the movies.

I don't think that it necessarily has to be a romantic thing.

In fact, I think that the phenomenon of soul mates can occur with many different types of relationships. Family, friends, and then of course, yes, I think sometimes you can get that lucky blessed, and you can marry your soul mate.

Here is what I mean -

The Bible never says anything about another soul that God had already chosen for us. Sure, I believe that he can answer our prayers for a fit husband or wife, or someone whose heart is prepared just for us and our needs, but I don't believe that no matter what decisions you make in your life, you will ultimately end up finding this one person that was predestined to make you happy.

In Matthew 22:23-30 we are told about a couple where the husband died and the wife then became the wife of his first brother. Then the first brother died and she became the wife of the second brother. The second brother also died and then she was married to the third brother. In fact, a total of seven brothers, including her original husband, died and she became the wife of each until she finally died. So if you think society's view on soul mates is correct, then you must answer this question: Who was the wife’s soul mate?

There is though, in the Bible, examples of great relationships that are influenced by God, and their bond is bound by their faith.

“…the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”

  (1 Samuel 18:1, NKJV)

Wow. I've read this verse, but I've never really READ this verse. How beautiful. A soul being knit to another soul. Combined. Intertwined. It reminds me of my favorite quote from one of my favorite books - Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

 I believe that a soul mate isn't already picked out for you, but that you acquire one. It could be two girlfriends, it could be brothers, it could be anyone. It is someone that you connect with on a deeper level than just emotional or physical ...but on a deep spiritual level. It's hard to explain how that connection takes place, but I believe it just ... does.

If Jonathan was "knit to the soul" of David, what does that mean, exactly?  

It is the type of connection that makes it easy to feel what the other person is feeling. To rejoice in their happiness and be crushed in their adversity. When you see this person, and get a chance to share life experiences with them, it is like being able to talk to yourself. It is almost like being able to look into a mirror. A different kind of mirror, though. Not one that reflects just you in the here and now, but one where you can see all of the things you are lacking, and all of the things you some day hope to be. It is an inexplicable love for another soul so much so, that you almost feel like you are experiencing what they are experiencing. And I believe that this connection, once you make it, is constant. It isn't something that just goes away. Not over time or distance. And maybe not even death.

I think of my best friend when I think of feeling another person's pain. We have always told each other - "When you hurt, I hurt." And it's so true. When she had a miscarriage a few years ago, and lost her child, I felt a sharp aching in my heart for her that I couldn't shake. I went to bed with it, I woke up with it. My heart hurt when hers hurt. Or maybe, it was my soul. And when she finally did get to have her first child, my happiness for her poured out and spilled over. It was as if I were getting a gift added to my life, as well.

  

You can also see this type of indescribable loyalty, devotion, and love in Ruth.

“Entreat me not to leave you,
Or to turn back from following after you;
For wherever you lodge, I will lodge;
Your people shall be my people,
And your God, my God.
Where you die, I will die,
And there will I be buried.
The LORD do so to me, and more also,
If anything but death parts you and me."(Ruth 1:16-17, NKJV)

And even though I do not feel as though this type of "soul knitting" is always romantic relationships, what a magnificent thought ... that it could be.

I found this British Poem by Donte Gabriel Rossetti while researching soul mates, and it burned itself into my memory.

"I have been here before, but when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell, the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before - How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar, your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore."

And so, for you who asked the question ... if you are reading this ....

 be hopeful, my friend.

Not because there is already a soul out in the world that is destined to find you. Not because you have been matched with another in Heaven and must follow that path set before you.

But because you can knit your soul together with whomever you choose. You can love their soul as your own. You can create your own phenomenon of soul mates with anyone you want. To find romantic love is incredible. And loyal friendships, exceptional. But to find another soul to connect with yours on such a beautiful, spiritual level ... seems... well, sacred.

Over the last few years I have come to understand the word love more than I ever thought I would. Getting married & creating a life has definitely helped with this understanding. So has making friends with those who have gotten cancer and have been given only a few months to live. Watching what they find important in their last days. What a beautiful thought that God breathed into us a spirit that can love in so many different ways.

And who says we have to have just one soul mate?
Maybe in our lifetime we can come to have soul collections.

Maybe we are created to knit our souls with many. Maybe that is the ultimate goal. To connect on many levels, but mostly on a spiritual one. To rejoice in the joys of others. To hurt in another person's pain. Doesn't this sound like the type of love that our awesome God would ultimately want? To love another soul as if it were our own?


Maybe, just maybe, the concept of a "soul mate" isn't so unbelievable after all.

{Photos: weheartit.com // Quote: Age Of Innocence, Edith Wharton}

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.” 

What are your thoughts on Soul Mates?

Her Story Told.

Theresa Carmella Mollise` Zorn

"Tess"

A memory that will linger in my mind forever, is that of my grandmother's voice saying "Hidey!" whenever we entered her home. She was always so happy to see us.

Driving home from the hospital on Saturday, I couldn't help but think of regrets. As we all do, when someone we love dies, we search our memory for things we might have left undone, unsaid, that we wish we could go back and change. Did we see this person as much as we would have liked before they left us? Did we get to say I love you and goodbye?

Fortunately for me, I got to do those things.

We lived through the woods from my grandmother. I guess that old song - Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother's House we go - would apply to me. She was always right there. It wouldn't be much of an exaggeration to say that I saw her every day for 18 years of my life. Not only was I named after her, but I was, as she used to say, the joy of her heart.

She was with us every Holiday. Every time I had a birthday, she was there. And every time she had one, we were with her. I have wonderful memories of hunting Easter eggs at her house, and Christmas mornings with her in our living room, playing with our toys. Every year we sang The Twelve Days of Christmas as a family, and every time it got to my grandmother, even though I think she always knew in the back of her mind what came next, she would always pretend like she had forgotten and say something absolutely silly like -" Seven ..... people ..... waving", just to make us all laugh. Those are precious memories that will never leave my heart.

No, I don't regret the time I spent with my grandmother. It was plentiful and meaningful.

And I don't regret how she left us. We were all gathered around her hospital bed, so she would not feel alone. Someone on each side holding her hand. I got to tell my grandmother that I loved her, and goodbye. I got to "rub noses" with her, which she always loved to do to me for as long as I can remember. At one point, when everyone left the room to speak with the doctor, I got very close to her face and sang Amazing Grace to her as I rubbed her hair. She couldn't respond, but I know she could hear me. And I held her hand, praying, as she took her final breath.

In that very moment I thought of a video that I watched just weeks prior. A video about the first breath we take when we are born, and the last one we take when we die. And the man in the video explains that the name of God in Hebrew is YHWH which we pronounce "Yahweh". This man says that these letters were more like the sound of breathing. And that every breath we take, we breathe the name of God. And I stood there with my grandmother as she breathed the name of God one last time before her soul could have some rest. This thought was so comforting.

No, I didn't have any regrets about how I got to say goodbye to my grandmother.

But as the drive seemed to carry on and on, I started to wonder about how well I knew Theresa Zorn. Not Theresa Zorn the grandmother, but Theresa Zorn the person.

That was my regret.

As children all we can see is the role that family members play in our lives. We don't quite understand that we are characters in their lives, as well. That they were someone long before we, their grandchildren, came along and even before their children. Then, when we become adults, life gets too "busy" to ask questions about the past and to listen to stories of people and places we have never known. I wished at that moment that I would have gotten to know my grandmother. To REALLY know her, .... what she loved, what made her happy. What gave her joy.

And then I realized....

I already knew.

" So I'll put my fingers in this soil upon her grave
And I will plant for her a garden
And every flower, a reminder of her face
Will grow up graceful as a pardon

And all that grows is her story told
As life unfolds here before us
The peace we've found in this broken ground 
I can see her in the harvest...of all that I have sown "

Let's Play Catch Up ...

My husband brought it to my attention the other night that I haven't been a very faithful blogger since I had our son. And he's right. When I was expecting, I made it a point to blog every two weeks about what was going on, feelings I experienced, and funny things that were happening. I also included a picture.

So now, why not continue updating all of you on how my sweet boy is learning and growing and show you pictures of how adorable he is?! I often forget that posting pictures on Facebook of him doesn't do any of my blog followers that aren't on facebook any good. So this post will be for catch up purposes only.

First, let me just say ... being a mother is the greatest thing in the world. I really wish I could better articulate the magnitude of becoming a mother for young women who have yet to experience this. Everyone thinks they know just how amazing it is going to be, and then they are completely... well, pleasantly surprised, I think. At least, I know I was. From the moment that I knew I was carrying a growing person inside of me, it was the most beautiful, extraordinary experience I could have ever imagined. And for those who are still kind of soul searching, have yet to feel their worth or are trying to find value in themselves through other things, I wish they could know what is coming. Because I've been the career woman, putting all of my focus and energy into that, and I've been the person who finds inspiration and passion in art and music and literature, I totally get all of that, I do. But becoming a mother is the single greatest role that I could ever take on in my lifetime.

The first part of this post might be a little boring to those of you who could not care less about the hair and weight of a growing baby. So feel free to skip on down...  

 The first month of Connor's life was such a joy. We were slowly getting to know each other. His personality really hadn't shown itself yet, but he was getting used to our home and his new family. He was so very tiny. Looking back now, it is hard to believe that he was ever under 8 lbs. Within the first month of his life, he began smiling. I fell in love with that smile immediately and only love it more every day that I see it.

The nights where I was able to rock Connor to sleep were some of the most precious. And skin to skin time is just so sweet and special, I am so glad that we took the time to do that bonding with him. He loved it, and Adam and I loved it as well.

Month two was very busy for all of us. We had Christmas and New Years' travels all within a couple of weeks and it totally threw Connor off of his routine. It was great seeing family though and getting to see everyone in mine and Adam's family interacting with him. He is so loved. A little more of his personality started to shine through at the end of 2 months, and we began really getting to play with him with little toys. But mostly, he was like any other baby. Eat, poop, sleep. :)

During month 2 I started realizing that morning was definitely Connor's favorite time of the day. He always woke up in such a sweet mood and always gave me this biggest smile when I walked into his room. Lucky for us, around the 2nd month, he started sleeping through the night. I mean .. ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Some nights he would get 8-10 hours of sleep. Which was really good for Momma. Unfortunately, he didn't do it for long, like everyone warned me of. Now, he is waking up, but only once a night on our best nights. 

Month 3 was full of milestones. He was smiling more, (and we discovered an adorable dimple) and he even rolled over once. (Which turned out to be a total fluke, because he didn't do it again for another 2 months.) He did start a little babbling though and "laughing" which was more of a squeal at the time. Real laughing comes later. This was the time when I really started to notice that his hair was growing at a rapid pace and he was probably not going to lose it, like most babies do. He also started getting incredibly chunky.

During month 3, Connor started reaching and putting both hands on the sides of our faces. Sometimes he would pull me in close and give me sugars, and sometimes he would just study my face. It was the sweetest.

Month 4 we started experimenting with solid foods like cereal and applesauce. It was a busy month, filled with seeing family, going to a friends' wedding, and St. Pattys Day. Connor could finally stand on his own and hold his weight. His laugh turned into more of a giggle and his smile was contagious. Everywhere we went, people would tell me what a beautiful baby he was and how sweet his smile was. By the end of month 4 he was in the 90th percentile for babies his age with weight and height. He weighed 16 lbs and was 25 inches long.

At the end of month four, he really started discovering his mouth. And that turned out to mean a bunch of spit baths for me and Adam. He likes to blow bubbles and he thinks he is so funny when he gets it all in your face. He also started to get really ticklish during this month.

Every month has just been sweeter and sweeter than the last. Month 5 was really when I felt like his little personality completely formed and let me just say, he is going to be one funny kid! He loves to make us laugh and will do anything to do it. He is also such a cute little faker! He fake coughs, and does this funny thing where he opens his mouth and makes it look like he is cracking up, but nothing comes out. He also started getting to where he would push his toys off of the high chair tray when I wasn't looking. Sometimes I would turn around toward him and he had the funniest look on his face and his toy elephant would be right up to the edge before he would give it a little shove and a smile. That little stinker.

This was also the month when he started rolling everywhere and actually putting his arms around my neck when I carry him. Which, is my favorite! It is so precious to feel that hug. During this month his hair started getting extremely long and curly and more and more people started asking me how old "SHE" was. Ha! That doesn't bother me too much, because I know it just means that he has a  beautiful face. By the end of month 5 Connor was weighing a good 18-19 lbs.

We are now in the middle of month 6. And as you can see from the picture, Connor has started thinning out a little more and is still as tall as ever! I have a feeling he is going to be tall like his daddy and uncle Taylor. He has started shaking his rattle and he loves playing the little piano that belonged to me when I was a child. Last night, for the first time, he actually pulled his legs up and got on his hands and knees when laying on his stomach so crawling seems to be right around the corner!!

I love so many things about him. He is "talking" so much and I know I have heard him say Momma once or twice, but I don't count it since I can never get him to say it twice in a row. When we go for a ride in his stroller, he puts his arm up on the side and leans back just like he is "cruising". He is so funny. He has gotten to where he will wave back at you if you wave at him and his hair just keeps getting crazier and crazier so I see a trim in our near future. (I think I might cry!)

I love this phase of his life and I feel so incredibly blessed to be able to be at home with him every day to experience all of these firsts. I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we decided to move closer to Adam's job so that we could save a little gas money. So we found ourselves a cute little house that we now call home. I absolutely love it and I know that we are going to have some wonderful memories here.

Here are a few pictures:

{our backyard at sunset}

{the front porch}

{the kitchen is huge!} 

{can you spot my "pinterest" ideas??} :)

{Connor's room , not yet finished}

{Our little family}

Becoming a mother has completely changed my life. It's amazing how your priorities and views of the world change when you have a child. And you just come to terms with the fact that you are probably always going to be leaving the house with a little spit up on your shoulder, a little applesauce in your hair, and there will always be that moment on a date night when you pull in to your destination, start to brainstorm if you are going to get the baby out of the car seat or just take it all inside, and then tear up a little when you turn around and realize he isn't even with you. I know that these days are some of the most special days of my life and I try so hard to remember those precious moments as they happen.

... But our memory is a strange thing.

It stores the moments, pieces of ourselves ... of our story, that we never want to lose. And isn't it weird how we can't seem to remember important days in our lives, as much as we would like to, - for example- the day I graduated from College, but I can hear a song and remember the exact place that I was standing or sitting and the exact feeling I had in the pit of my stomach the first time I ever heard it?

It's strange.

I've come to the realization that one of my greatest fears is forgetting.

It terrifies me.

I don't want to forget voices of people I love, or important words spoken to me, but most of all, I don't want to forget the feelings I had during different stages of my life. Especially this one. I think that is why I take so many pictures of our life. Because I am not trying to capture what it looks like, I'm trying to capture what it feels like.

Recently, I have caught myself taking it all in ... on purpose. Like when I am holding Connor, and he does that thing where he reaches up and puts both hands on either side of my face. Comes in close until our faces are touching.

I intentionally stop that moment.
I breathe slower. I make my eyes memorize everything. His eyelashes. The color of his skin. I lift my head up and put my nose on his hair to breathe in the smell of his shampoo. And I say to myself ...

Don't forget this moment. Whatever you do. Please, don't forget this moment.

It's going to be gone in the blink of an eye. Some day before I can even begin to truly realize the blessing I have, he will be too big to hold. His hands won't fit on my cheeks the way they do now.

And I just can't let myself forget what this feels like.

LOVE.