#dobravethings saturday

i've been enjoying my last week as a blonde for a while...
and i also:

*painted my nails minty seafoamy green with polish i didn't steal ;)

*laughed at myself

*signed up for elora's ecourse

*helped edit a book

*began a weeklong fast from "social media on my phone" in order to be more present with real life (oh, instagram, i miss you so)

*made my own chicken broth  (people. you have to touch bones to do this. it's brave. ;)

*accepted an invitation

*asked a hard question

*ran out the door to an impromptu dinner with friends - without makeup

*embraced my inner dragon-slayer

we were out at panera when i decided to do a little art-journaling... using a broken pencil from jason's bag, a pen i found in one of my books, and then nail polish, since i didn't have any other paint - it was perfect for "blue-green dragon" scales :)

shoplifting and other exemplary behaviors

i stole something tonight. 

(don't worry, that's not the brave part - i know some of you were a little concerned when "cursed" was on my last list of brave accomplishments - i'm not that far gone ;) 

a little two-dollar-and-sixty-nine-cents bottle of minty green nail polish goodness. 

i had picked it out as a reward for myself for waiting in line to return stuff that's been sitting in my car since november. 

getting it was premeditated -

i dreamed of it as i waited in the line that took much longer than it should've since a woman was explaining to anyone who would listen why she didn't have a receipt - i only overheard part, but it involved her mother dying unexpectedly. my heart ached for her in her need to share her brokenness with complete strangers, even as i completed the task at hand... 

but stealing it was a complete accident. 

as i was unloading my (legitimately bought) groceries into my car, i saw it. 

resting on two bars where joey would usually sit 

(i got to go out without the boys - and all the mothers joined me in a hallelujah?!), 

it waited patiently for me to notice it. not until the celery and sunflower seeds, bananas and bubble mailers were completely loaded, and i was driving away did my heart realize

i'd left it in the cart all the way through the checkout line.

now. ten years ago, i would have turned and marched that polish right back inside and paid for it. because it was the right thing to do.

tonight, i wrestled even as i continued to drive through the parking lot and all the way up beach boulevard to my turn.

 i thought through it all: it was only two bucks. no one will know, no one will miss it... how much could it affect their revenue anyways? but...what ripples might be spreading as far back as the workers who put it together who-knows-where? what about my boys... i want to teach them right... 

{which reminded me of an incident that took place at dinner tonight. joey jumped up from the table, left the room, and we heard a flush just before his return, announcing "i peed!", which we know is code for "i didn't wash my hands afterwards". he's been having a hard time with that part of the process lately, protesting resolutely until the worst is threatened and he succumbs. so we told him to go wash them. to which he replied, "but i want to do it like you, mommy!" meaning, of course, not consistently washing my hands afterwards. uhhh... i mean, i always do. every time. my sister, husband, and i laughed belly laughs with tears, while he looked on, curious what could have caused such an uproar.

but there it is right there. they watch. all day, and even in the middle of the night when he stirs as i go to the bathroom after feeding the baby, he hears and takes note. no wonder it's been so hard for him to do lately! he doesn't have a good role model.} 

so all that flashed through my mind as i considered what to do about the nail polish.

and then, this whisper: 

go back. pay for it. but NOT out of guilt. NOT because it's "the rule". 

but because it's the best thing for your heart. 

the healthiest thing. 

truth in the innermost being. 

that is how to thrive, how to live the truly abundant life.

and i listened to spirit-movements in me and went back in complete freedom and joy. that he has done so much in my heart these past years that i am not just a conditioned legalist-robot "do - the - right - thing" (said in an 80s robot voice, complete with awkward arm motions - superbook club? anyone with me??), 

but that he has truly been transforming me. my desires, my ability to hear his voice, even my impulses are slowly being made whole and like his own heart's as i draw near. 

so grateful.

and you should've seen the look on the same employee's face that rang me up the first time, as i waited patiently behind a family that spent $342.84 to buy my two-dollar bottle of nail polish. 

she eyed me curiously as i explained, and thanked me for coming back. 

oh, no worries - it was the right thing to do, and i'm really good at behavior self-modification. 

uh, nope.

more like: my redeemer lives and is truly transforming my heart from stone to flesh.

 and it took a silly little bottle of nail polish for me to see. 

if i could do anything: my life-vision {which becomes brave as it gets feet and hands and wings put to it}

if i could do anything.

i’d write poetry and sing to the hearts of broken women.

dancing where my words and the melody of my life touch yours.

opening something that was closed.

touching to heal something that was broken.

freeing what was held captive.

drawing on his life, I long to breathe life.

speaking light in dark places.

painting beauty for ashes.

my uniquely designed life-flesh set to music and nearness.

i penned that vision tonight, thinking these were new things that i was just realizing i desired...
then i looked back at this journal page from a couple weeks ago and saw an echo of almost everything in it...
and THEN... echoes of the prophet isaiah as he foreshadows the deliverer
(jesus claims this as his life-vision-purpose)

the spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant those who mourn in zion --
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord
that he may be glorified.
isaiah 61:1-3

this is my desire, and #iaccept my desires.

this art journal page spread was created based on prompts from the art journaler community <3

linking up with emily

my brave friends

my dear friend jessica talked about jesus and bared her heart thursday morning. she poured herself out as a liquid love offering to his heart for our sake. it was beautiful (and so was her power point with all its damask and artfulnesses) and brave. it got me to thinking about other women i know (or know of) that have bravely written or spoken or loved.

as i began to make a mental list, immediately prudy and elora came to mind. they are new online acquaintances of mine, and i have enjoyed getting to know them via instagram, a facebook art journaling community, and their respective blogs (and a skype story-coaching session with elora)... they write, and it's good, and they are warrioresses who fight back darkness with the light.

prudy got on a plane to moldova yesterday, to work with girls rescued out of human trafficking. she is going to be loving on these girls, and even doing an art journal workshop with them! i can't wait to see what comes out of her time there.

i thought elora was brave when i saw her blogging and story-coaching and healing in her own life and offering that light to others, and initiating an ecourse after publishing her first book this year. but then i read her book. oh. em. gee. you have to read it. it's called come alive, and it's about the evil of human trafficking and the truth of rescue. i read most of it in one sitting, largely because i didn't want to be left with the more disturbing scenes, where she paints a realistic picture of the underbelly of humanity... (going to bed husbandless as he is out camping, my fears have their way with me more often... especially given fodder of just how dark the world can look - before the light enters! and oh, he does...) but also being captivated by the story and the internal world of the characters, resonating deeply. read. it.

do you notice a theme here? i did. and remembered last week's post by emily. and the book i read over the summer that forced me to stop long enough to remember that my choices impact this world, for good or evil (eg. buying fair trade, instead of continuing the demand for enslaved workers and trafficking), and i went to the author's blog today, and what is her last post titled, but "brave moms raise brave kids"
and erika's fist bump to the freeing of enslaved workers in india while writing about loving and justice in a world rife with hellishness... and my friend kelsey, who is one of the top experts on sex trafficking in australia (and elsewhere). she has been in the trenches, folks. working to free women in every way possible these last years. she has opened my eyes to much, and she has been a light.

i finished reading elora's book around midnight, and had to write now because i can't seem to extinguish this fire in my bones. a passion for justice. for the unloved to know their belovedness. for healing and light and truth in the innermost being. here. there. here...

#dobravethings saturday

this week i:

*asked for help

*spoke hard truth

*bought a brave-inspired bracelet on etsy

*exercised

*let jason go camping in the desert with the guys after this week

*gave a good long hug (touch is my "love language" and i'm always afraid people will not want to receive in the way i want to give. to hell with that kind of thinking - if it's awkward, so what?! you're getting hugged!)

*cursed

*encouraged somebody

*linked up for imperfect prose

*volunteered to write a guest post

*wrote a book review

*prayed

*danced with my husband

*announced my weight-loss goal on instagram (fitting into my wedding ring ;)

some of my friends have started telling me their braveries, and they. are. so. brave.

 tell me about yours...?

on a wednesday in january

it was an emergency. 

I was finally having my first cup of coffee at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and had nothing to go with it. 

I raided my own kitchen in search of a baked… anything. 

to no avail. 

the coffeecake I took to my meeting yesterday is only a few crumbs now. 

joey and I didn’t “make cookies in the mixer” as he had pleaded. 

I was trying to eat healthy, for heaven’s sake! 

I started keeping a food journal (!) this morning, and ate only yogurt & granola & cottage cheese & banana… and whole wheat pancakes and eggs…  those have gotta be healthy, right?  I checked. 118 calories per serving – perfect. but, oh wait – how many servings did I have? I ate a little over half the batch, while joey nibbled on his snowman-shaped portion, so probably like 2?  WHAT?! it made EIGHT servings?! so I just had the amount they’d expect 5 people to eat?!

{that’s when the shame started creeping over my soul. this companion I try to shake off, give the cold shoulder… but she doesn’t take the hint, and at the littlest thing, she begins to whisper worthlessness. and, worse, I begin to agree with her, edge over into self-loathing.}

and piled on was the fact that I’d been trying to get to the grocery store all day (or even start a stupid load of laundry), and had been unsuccessful. in fact, the house was a disaster again, after starting off the day fairly clean… it’ll just take a few minutes to clean up, I innocently thought this morning. nope. especially when the entire day is a hand-to-hand combat with messmaker especial. coupled with the baby who has recently taken to rejecting breastfeeding, and just screaming with it in his mouth (or chomping down and not letting go, like a bear trap). I was exhausted and ready for them to go down for their naps so I could have some alone time, gather myself, clean up the entire cup of flour that was spilled in the pancake-making and subsequently tracked all over the dark-wooden floors (and coffee table? how did MY flour-footprint get on the coffee table?! this mom-brain stuff is brutal).

then he drove up. he knew I was having a tough day, so he got his last two periods covered, and drove home  -surprise!! (he had actually texted me he was coming, but I hadn’t seen it) that’s when I fell apart. I was grateful for a love to come rescue me. but the timing felt the opposite of perfect.  I just wanted to put these tired kids down to nap, and he’s offering to take them out so I can have a break (but joey needs to freaking sleep so he can go to his thing tonight while you have bible study at our house, with flour all over it).

 I get so overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all that I can’t even appreciate it. joey goes to bed and doesn’t nap for an hour-and-a-half, while Jason holds the sleeping baby and I DO nap. but the house still looks the same, and the laundry is still undone, and we haven’t made it to the store, and now there’s nothing for dinner, and I still haven’t faxed my 7-week-old doctor’s note to work saying I can come off maternity leave now, or e-mailed my manager, or made judah’s 4 month appointment (and with how popular our pediatrician is, he likely won’t get in till at least 6 months old at this point. are his immunizations up to date? no. and dang it, he needs a flu shot so he doesn’t die!), or mailed the darn hebrew bible to the customer who bought it on amazon over a week ago… ugh.

so I get up from my nap and feed the bear-trap baby, and he swoops both boys away. I sit catatonic for the first ten minutes. then I realize I am angry (maybe when I open-palmed the door of the armoire, making a satisfyingly loud noise through frustrated tears, should have been a heads-up… I’m a little slow. mommy brain, ok??); and when I’m angry, it does my soul good to do a little writing.

I grab my journal and set it with my phone and laptop, near the daily prompt-holding-fine-china, and go to my trusty French press. and that’s when I realize we have no comfort-food-baked-treat anywhere. 

but wait! what’s this? 2-week-old chocolate chip cookie dough? heck yes.

 so I bake it in the microwave, and eat it with a fork like a queen as I type this.  

it was an emergency, ok?

that was yesterday.

 today, my love stayed home from work, since I couldn’t fathom being in the flour-covered house with those two crazies by myself all day… 

and now? 

the laundry is done, floors swept, faxes and e-mails sent, Judah has an appointment only a week and a half away… and yet, still, shame lingers. where is my heart? it's hiding. got lost in that self-loathing that has felt so familiar, and now it's afraid to show up.

  sure we got all those things done that had been weighing on me 

(plus cooked the pumpkins joey grew and made the cabinet in our room into a jewelry holder! “today’s the day!” we kept saying), 

and that is wonderful. 

wonderful. 

but I almost feel even more worthless afterwards… 

I “should” be able to do this stuff.  I “shouldn’t” need help. 

and i feel beat up. like an unrecognized enemy has had their way with me. 

and it has. 

again.

what does all this have to do with being brave?

only that:

it stops here. 

{i know the truth. that i am beloved and worth it. i may be afraid to stand up to the bullying shame, but i take up my arrows anyway and take aim.} 

linking up with emily's place, talking about "mother" today...

#dobravethings saturday

ok. will do.

 and, oh, i have been. this journey has already been so full, and has it only been 12 days?


this week i:

*danced

*jumped on the bed with joey :)

*drank a cup of coffee... BLACK (that it was french press helped this to happen - seriously, why does anyone use a coffeemaker? my sister brought me a french press this week, and i've used it every day. #nevergoingback)

*made a phone call

*experimented with a recipe

*contacted the girl who does my hair, scheduled a time to complete #1 & #2 off my list!

*really listened

*spoke up

*agreed with God

*handled disappointments with grace (sometimes ;)

*had my story-coaching session with elora (you guys, this was so amazing. i got off my skype call with her - {OH! that was brave - skype is like the epitome of all i fear/hate ;} - and told my sister "well, that was like the coolest thing i've ever done!" she just has this way of seeing and helping you see... well, you're just gonna have to try it for yourself ;)

so, what brave things are you doing? leave me a comment with one (or a few)!

bravery is...

silence.

when everything in you is straining, telling you you gotta keep up the momentum, it is rest. 

it was tough allowing myself not to post on here for 3 days, after posting every day for a week. 

what if i'm not meeting people's expectations? what if i'm not meeting my own? 

so, i combat the needing-to-live-up-to-expectations issue with silence. 

choosing the brave, the better. 

engaging in the life swirling around me, and taking a break from what has already had a chance to snag a little piece of my identity. so i won't tell you what to expect around here, but know this journey has only just begun...

#dobravethings saturday

the bravest thing i've done so far this year has definitely been beginning this blog, and the daily posts, and the daily post-{post}-traumatic-syndrome processing afterwards... but there have been some other risky behaviors going on around here, and i wanted to share them (maybe you'll be inspired to be brave yourself, or see how you already are without even realizing it...!)

in no particular order, my braveries of the week:

*tried a top knot

*disappointed someone (this is brave for me, as my tendency is to orient my life around the expectations of others. i chose what was better, even though it disappointed, and i'd do it again)

*started a family gratitude journal (even when all seemed pitted against it ever happening)

*experimented with my daily routine

*did not let them define me

*risked stepping closer to God

*didn't shy away, but pressed into hard conversations (this will have to be an ongoing, daily choice as i naturally avoid these...)

*read the bible

*signed up for a story-coaching session with Elora

*gave a risky gift (all gifts feel risky to me - this needs to be explored)


what brave things are you doing? 

in which it terrifies me that people i know read this blog

i ran into a friend this afternoon.  she has been a friend for almost ten years now, and walked so much of life with us. we were in a small "life group" together, meeting almost every week, for like 6 years. we have known some of the same struggles and joys, she was someone who listened and really heard my heart in those dark years. someone who longs for the deeper heart journey with me, for real community. someone who continues to be present in our lives as we move forward in our journeys.

so we happened upon each other and she joined us for lunch. halfway through, she mentioned that she had been reading my blog, and something to the effect that it was good - not to be afraid - that it was things my readers needed to hear, wade through, be aware of in themselves, take stock.

and me? i had been standoffish, avoiding eye contact, being much afraid. it was in the midst of a high-stress moment (my son spilling his milkshake sample for the 37th time, while i'm trying to clean it up, and jason is calling from across the restaurant "do you have the coupon??", and i was searching and not finding, and i knew this meal was less of a success to him because nothing was free... so many little things adding up). she had to step into my way to maneuver me into a hug as i was passing by, barely aware of anyone around me. i wasn't being brave, and i knew it.

so when she brought up my blog, i tried to thank her for her kind words, but what i felt was my old security blanket of shame. it's four days into the year, and already i've forgotten my name??

it is way easier to post these braveries, and send them out into the vast unknown, knowing that those who read it will accept it (& me) or not, but that it doesn't really matter. i want to encourage people in their journey, help them see love and light when i can, let them know they're not alone, put my heart out there... but if real people - or rather, my people - are reading it, it is incredibly more vulnerable.

i posted my first time on this blog New Year's Eve. i was brave for a moment, long enough to hit the "publish" button, but upon awakening, i found my heart yearning for affirmation.  for someone to tell me that i really am being brave, and not just crazy. so... i wake up on New Year's to discover that I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS LOOKED AT MY BLOG (and my husband, whom i forced to read it ;). why could that be?? oh wait. because i was too afraid to "share" it on facebook. agh. this is gonna be a long journey, folks!

so then i shared it. and then my dad shared it to his page {tremble}, and printed out my art and put it up on their fridge. and friends commented and affirmed...

and THEN i remembered that it doesn't matter if people accept me or not. i am loved. i am acceptable. other people do not define me. and God knows i'm putting my heart out there and longing for truth and beauty. so even if no one ever comments again (or worse, if they do!), i am okay. i'll keep being brave because i am safely tucked away in his heart.

fragile beauty

bravery is...

bravery is being me, even when no one else *gets* me.

on being afraid to tell the real story

the messy parts. i (we) leave them out. when i tell my stories to you, i tell the parts i want you to hear. the parts i think you'll accept, even if you don't totally "get me".  but not the ugly parts. if i did, you might not like me. might turn away. i might be unloved, or... unworthy of love.

it's an instagram life.

filtered, all beauty, leaving out the mess...

here's a selfie

{not only does this process of filtering enhance by smoothing and brightening, it also hides by cropping, clouding... } i took this shot in my kitchen on monday. then i took a few steps back to document the mess for this post, and i giggled. couldn't stop laughing. i mean, look how much mess you can crop out just by changing an angle, zooming in...! 

i'm sure i'm not the first to notice this proclivity of instagram (and other forms of storytelling - this one just happens to be my most well-loved one, currently) to falsify - just a bit, here and there - 

even as it beautifies.

 i don't think it's all bad. sometimes the mess just isn't part of the story you're telling. it's when you intentionally crop the mess out of fear... when i do... when we hide.

i bought these boots the first week of january 2012 (like, as in january of LAST YEAR), and never wore them out of a lack of laces. finally ordered some, and then changed my mind - decided to go with actual vintage lace... and LOVED how it turned out. posted this shot, and they were fallen in love with by many (as in, all 3 of the people who commented on it ;)

but here's what you didn't see: 

a broken zipper the first time i wore them. because they were cheap imitations from the fashion district in downtown LA. irreparable (by me, at least) after only a couple hours, when the laces took almost that just to put in! so there's the sad part of all that work for (almost) nothing, the "i'm too cheap to spend a hundred bucks on the real thing so my crap always falls apart, a little bit ashamed" part... 

and i crop those out and leave you thinking i'm awesome because of my pretty boots (i mean, really - scroll back up and look at them - they're SO CUTE!)...

this is a silly example, but i think it illustrates some of the deeper ways we do this, too. hiding, revealing only what we believe acceptable (to people, ourselves, God even)... 

not the truest us with all the beauty and all the mess tangled up in light and chain and deep waters. 

will you join me in choosing the really Real? in accepting our authentic selves and the one who knows it all deeper than we ourselves do (and accepts us, lavishes grace and so much freedom, always), and living life freely and loving bravely...? and telling the {real} story...

another pretty shoes shot

aaand here's what they look like on bottom ;)

yep, i'm still wearing them (like, right now) - 

so the sole ripped off... so?! i can still wear them! 

...as long as there are no puddles in my path (or mud, or worse... ;)

just chillin, soleless...
don't you want to pin[terest] these awesome shoes?! go ahead... you know you want to ;)

the fear that drives New Year's Resolutions

doodled a "cover" for my 2013 art journal

i am not enough. 
and i'm too much.

these fears run deep, probably deeper than most, and are really the undercurrent of so many of the other fears. because if i believed i was enough, right now, my spirit and his, intertwined in this moment... i could take a deep breath {breath...} and live free and love well. my sons have the mother they need. my husband has the wife designed for him. my artistic desire and abilities are exactly where they are meant to be right now in this moment.

i wouldn't be overwhelmed with feelings of failure and needing to figure it all out... making resolutions that i know i'll never be able to keep up with. i'd be risking, pulling down walls, brick by brick with my bare hands. getting cut and bruised, but really breathing and living free. 

so, while my initial "list" included SMART goals (specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-bound - thank you, nursing school) of moving toward health (and i do still want to cook and eat healthy and exercise and floss and dance and play with my boys), my recovering-perfectionist nature starts condemning me as soon as i "break" one of these. ope, drank a soda AND didn't floss that night. you're hopeless. or, you can do better - work harder! but i'm SO OVER those traps. the striving and the chains to expectations (my own and others'). 

so instead, i started something like a bucket list. just a bunch of dream-brave-heart-sometimes-silly things that make me feel like i'm living again... just the beginnings of a list, always open to modification...

because, really, what's the point of "being healthy" when you're not even really living?

did you see i already crossed off #15? try a top knot 1.1.13