the one about too-much, too-little, and just-right

My dog threw up 6 times and peed in the house - all between the hours of 10 and 2. I read my Bible as Elmo shrieked in the background. I bathed a little girl who went one too many days without a bath. I fielded phone calls and emails and texts and details for and about the campus ministry. I braved a downpour to buy more paper towels for additional vomit-related emergencies. I felt guilty relying on Sesame Street to entertain my baby while I put away the groceries. I threw laundry in the wash, and threw out expired things from the fridge. And even with all of that - I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing at all. Ever feel like that? Like all the “little” things you’re doing amount to practically nothing compared to the length of your to-do list?

Since Rosie entered toddlerhood, so many things have gotten easier (hang in there, moms of newborns!) and I am cherishing this stage of constant babbling and discovery and the peace of a predictable, simple nap schedule. But at the same time, I feel the pressure of togetherness. I feel the guilt of too-much and too-little: She watches too-much TV and reads too-little, she eats too-many carbs and too-little veggies, we bathe her too-little and her routine changes too-much, she sees me worry too-much and pray too-little, I clean too-much and play with her too-little, I clean too-little and work too-much, I work too-little and relax too-much. AH! The cycle of too-much and too-little is TOO MUCH for one person to handle! You feel me?

I sent some friends a text asking for help with mom-guilt today. And you know what I realized (for the millionth time) as the responses started coming in? Almost all of us will feel this ebbing sense of not-doing-enough or not-being-enough at one point or another. And I’m convinced that it’s not just a wife or mom thing. I think it’s a human thing….and maybe a human thing that especially affects women. We are all just out here doing our best.  

Earlier this summer, I was feeling especially stretched in some of the roles God has given me and incapable of rising above my weaknesses. I also felt discouraged that trying to grow meant failing and falling down more often. On one particularly dark afternoon, I called a mentor in the faith and dear friend and she told me that this season of my life required more faith than I’ve previously possessed. I’ll be honest - that wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear. I was forced to acknowledge that my faith and trust in God couldn’t stay the same if I actually wanted to grow - I had (and have to continue) to take it deeper. But then she reminded me of something that I’ve remembered every day since, “Alexandra,” she said, “think about Rosie learning to walk. She hasn’t learned how quite yet but don’t you have every confidence that she’ll eventually figure it out? Of course you do! Do you ever feel frustrated with her for not knowing how to walk yet? Absolutely not! You rejoice over each wobbly step! You clap and celebrate with her over every single step! And that’s how God looks at you - he looks down at you with every confidence that you’re going to figure this out eventually. He’s not disappointed when you fall or annoyed that you’re not walking quite yet - he rejoices over each and every step you’re learning to take! He is clapping for you just like you clap for Rosie!” And now every day that I see Rosie toddle away or fall down and get back up with a smile on her face - I’m reminded to do the same. I know that I still have my fair share of too-littles of this and too-much of that, but I have a Heavenly Father that is cheering me on over each unsure, awkward, topsy-turvy, but completely-determined step. And for today, that’s just-right.

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me." - 2 Corinthians 12:8-9

the one where I turn thirty

When I was 23 or 24, I found this quote on the then-new Pinterest, "You only get ten years to be in your twenties." At first, I loved this graphic...so much so that I made it my desktop background for awhiiile. After all, my time as a twenty-something was fleeting and those words served as a reminder that I should take advantage of every moment and every opportunity afforded to a young, non-wrinkly, zero gray-haired, but completely in debt, young woman! Carpe Diem and all that jazz! But as the months and years went on - these words began to haunt me. Ominous, intimidating, and flat-out scary - these words might as well have been followed by a "DUN, DUN, DUNNNN." This quote led to anxiety-laden thoughts: "What if I'm not maximizing my time in this decade?! What if I don't travel as much/get in as good of shape/accomplish as much/have as much/become as much like..." -- the list goes on and on. And so I felt defeated by the very words meant to keep me inspired. Eventually, off the desktop the quote went (praise hands) - but they remained etched in the back of my mind.

Today, as I spent my last day in my twenties, I couldn't help but feel a little off. Between Tim McGraw's "My Next Thirty Years" blaring in my mind's ear (is that a thing?) and that freaky quote from 2012 -- I was feeling a tad introspective. After all, I didn't quite accomplish all the things I thought I would when I started this decade: I am not the editor-in-chief for Lucky or Elle magazines (shocker, right?), I don't own a house (much less a vacation home), I don't live near my family OR in New York City, I don't have lots of designer clothes in my closet, I don't have a million stamps in my passport, I'm n in the best shape of my life  *she says while eating warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk*, I haven't written a book (in fact, I can barely blog consistently), I don't have as many kids as I thought I would by now, and I am very, very tired. Virtually nothing in my life looks quite like I thought it would when I turned 20! Allow me to first say: thank goodness. Clearly, my 20-year-old self was slightly consumed with the wrong things  in life! And although I'm extremely grateful that some of those expectations didn't come to pass (ahem most of them), there was a piece of me that felt a little worried that I didn't live my last 10 years to their fullest potential. Like what if I didn't live my best, most exciting, 20-something-year-old-life?! Please tell me I'm not the only one who has had this kind of existential age crisis?!

But as I read through Ecclesiastes today (nothing says quarter/mid/whatever-life crisis quite like Ecclesiastes, am I right), I was reminded that my life and my 20s aren't measured by my accomplishments. The quality of these years is not measured by my achievements, workplace accolades, possessions, dress size, followers on Instagram, cool trips or experiences, bank account balance, or even -- gasp -- my relationships. My years are measured by one thing and one thing only - my Maker. And according to him, well, if I'm still making every effort to become like his Son, I'm doing alright! I can't even begin to tell you how liberating that thought is for me!

When people live to be very old, let them rejoice in every day of life. But let them also remember there will be many dark days. Everything still to come is meaningless. Young people, it’s wonderful to be young! Enjoy every minute of it. Do everything you want to do; take it all in. But remember that you must give an account to God for everything you do. So refuse to worry, and keep your body healthy. But remember that youth, with a whole life before you, is meaningless. Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, “Life is not pleasant anymore.”

- Ecclesiastes 11:8-12:1 NLT

Meaningless, meaningless. Without God, it's all meaningless - gotta love the bluntest book of the Bible :) So ultimately, I'm positive that my thirties will be different than what I expect and probably filled with a lot more spit-up and a lot less "glamour" than my twenties...and that I'll probably stay tired for the foreseeable future (update: Rosie was teething all night so yeah - sleep and glamour are officially out. the. window. But sweet baby snuggles are IN!). Cheers to a decade of letting go, remembering the Creator first, sleeping the exact-same-not-nearly-enough amount, and attempting to eat more salads and a few less french fries.

It's time to check on my sweet, sleeping daughter and convince J to watch that episode of Friends where Rachel turns 30 with me. Thanks for joining me as I've attempted to make sense of my twenties. Can't wait to keep keeping it uncomfortably real with you all in my thirties. Is there any other way?! Stay young, y'all!

xoxo

A+J

the one about {mornings}

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; 

great is your faithfulness. 

- Lamentations 3:22-23 

Rosemary Jane arrived on July 22nd at 11:37AM. From that first morning until now, mornings have become my favorite time of day. Each morning, when my Rosie wakes up - I am giddy all over again, eager to hold the cutest bundle of answered prayers I've ever seen. Don't get me wrong, there have been nights of blown-out diapers and spit-up on bed sheets and un.real.exhaustion and drama-queen tears (her's...most of the time!) and did I mention exhaustion? - but all of those stressful moments fade away when the sun comes up.  The sun rises, a new day starts, and once more I get to kiss those long-anticipated sweet cheeks, see those little (but pudgier-by-the-day) arms stretch and stretch, and watch a teeny, toothless grin smile back at me and light up my whole world. 

Lamentations tells us that God's compassion for us is renewed every morning. Let's think about that for a second -- like, really think about it: Everyday, God looks at us - at YOU - with the doting eyes of a parent with fresh eyes of love, of grace, and of compassion. Yesterday's mistakes are wiped clean and the tears, the metaphorical "blow-outs," and even the tantrums are forgotten and replaced with a whole new helping of love. Our God chooses to forget and instead, I imagine him looking at you and I giddy to see our grins and eager to connect with us anew. After all, if I, with my limited amount of patience, can extend daily compassion to my daughter - how much more can our Heavenly Father do the same for us? 

Over the last six weeks, I've connected with this idea of God seeing me with compassionate eyes like never before. I meditate on who the Scriptures say He is - a Father eager to enjoy me, eager to console and soothe me, and eager to meet my needs.  And let me tell you - I have had a LOT of needs as of late. I've needed His grace like more than ever as my physical and emotional weaknesses have never been more obvious! I'm realizing that this verse (and many others) promise me access to this mistake-erasing, all-encompassing, absolutely relentless love every morning.
And me?

Well, I just get to smile back.

...

 Our friend, Jonny Havens, an unbelievably talented film maker, made Rosie a welcome-to-the-world video as a gift to us! Jonny made us our wedding video (only his second ever!) when he was an undergrad at Emerson College. Anyway, he made us this video and I cried when I watched it - cause, you know, hormones...and UGH SHE IS PERFECT. And believe it or not, this is the short version he made for us. The website won't let me upload a file that large (buh!) but the longer one is on Facebook. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

xoxo

A+J

*All photos by Fergie Medar Photography*

a + j's {incomplete} guide to infertility

Allow me to start this post by giving you a few important facts about infertility - facts that surprised me and facts that I think few people realize. Infertility is NOT only a female problem. 1/3 of all diagnoses are male factor, 1/3 are female factor and 1/3 are unexplained (meaning they have no idea why!). Jesse and I were in the unexplained, they-have-no-idea-why, camp. One of the biggest lies that Satan tells you when you're infertile is that your diagnosis is YOUR fault. That if you worked out more, ate better, and stressed less - you would get pregnant. But let's think about all the humans that smoked, drank like crazy, and made a plethora of unhealthy choices and somehow managed to get pregnant faster than you can say "Baby Mama."  As if we needed more of a reason to hate ourselves as infertile women - we buy into this terrible lie and head down the rabbit hole of self-hate. Every time we went to the doctor, my specialist would literally place a box of tissues in front of me and tell me (again) to get off the internet and that I didn't have to exclusively eat parsnips and pineapple cores in order to get pregnant. I can't tell you how much I needed his Robin Williams-esque "IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT" speech month after month. So anyway, from one crazy human to a likely less crazy one, here are my biggest pieces of input for a woman who may think she's infertile:

1. Get Tested Early.

My sister went through infertility so I was aware of the possibility of a diagnosis much earlier than most. After suspecting infertility and doing all the things we could do to up our chances - I made an appointment with our doctor and got forwarded to a specialist. Our specialist informed us that "normal" people have a 15% chance of conceiving every month. Couples past a year have less than a 5% chance of conceiving every month. Those are challenging odds. In my humble opinion, it's worth it to get tested and to get answers sooner than later. After all, knowledge is power! If you've been trying for nearly a year - you're not being dramatic to make an appointment and ask for a referral to a specialist. Any fertility doctor would encourage you to go ahead and set up an appointment. It often takes a lonnnng time to get into see a good doctor and then several months of testing before you're even given any sort of diagnosis. So my advice would be to go to the doctors early - it can't hurt anything and it feels a whole lot better than doing nothing.

I wrestled with the idea of pursuing medical advice at first because I wondered if going that route said something about my faith in God's timing. I worried that getting help meant that I wasn't surrendered and that I was "taking matters into my own hands". But again, my sister's wisdom to the rescue! "Do you really think Sarah or Rachel or Hannah wouldn't have used every thing at their disposal to try and conceive?" A fair point. Infertility is a disease. Would you ever criticize a friend for seeking medical intervention about any other disease? Would you really call her "not surrendered" for getting medical advice? Of course not! So why is infertility any different? And even when you look at the seven women who dealt with infertility in Scripture (an incredible Bible study btw) - you see that many of them tried different things to get pregnant. And you don't see God shaming or judging them for trying to get pregnant. If anything, he deals with every infertile woman in the Scripture with incredible patience, compassion, and gentleness. If God displayed compassion as they tried to navigate infertility - don't you think that same compassion extends to you? Now obviously, seeking a medical diagnosis is something that you and your spouse need to decide together and with prayer and advice. However, those are just a few thoughts that helped me, an over-complicated/always guilty/over-thinker, to decide to go to the doctor.

2. Gather Support.

I personally believe that infertility is one of the most isolating things you can experience as a woman. It's an invisible diagnosis and something that most people don't quite understand. Being young and infertile was extremely strange for me because me and my baby face would walk into a doctor's office and immediately feel like a freak. I'm pretty sure I was the youngest woman in every waiting room I entered. I felt like every other woman (even the infertile ones!) were looking at me with judgement for getting married young and like I must REALLY be messed up to have a faulty body "at my age". Now, this doesn't mean anyone actually thought those things -- but I sure felt that way! That said, very quickly into the process I recognized my need for support and encouragement. As you all know, I was pretty open about our journey with people in my life. Vulnerability wasn't a luxury for me - it was a necessity. I had to be vulnerable in order to handle my job, my emotions, and just my day-to-day life. But as our waiting dragged on, talking about it with whoever wasn't always the most helpful. I chose several women - about three - to be completely and consistently raw with and then I was honest with others in my life to a less intense degree. I just couldn't quite bear my soul in the same way (even though I wanted to) with each and every friend. I had to give myself permission to not tell everyone every single infertile thought and emotion and about every single blood test and doctors appointment. I quickly realized that I just couldn't quite handle hearing everyone's opinions or thoughts or even sympathy all the time. As a compulsive over-sharer who is constantly afraid of being inauthentic - this was soooo hard for me. But I realized that I couldn't survive the day by reliving and retelling my latest emotional moment 15 times with 15 different humans. It just wasn't practical. I eventually started a text thread with some of my closest friends and named it "Future Aunties." I would text them updates regularly and send specific prayer requests to keep them in the loop. This was helpful because it allowed me to feel connected with them and they with me without feeling like I needed to call each and every one and explain the same thing every time.

But I also had to realize that I did need to be totally transparent with a few in order to keep my own heart and walk with God in check. As the months dragged on, I had to deliberately choose to let these women influence me, guide me, and even correct me in my particularly dark moments. At one point, I even decided to seek counseling as the process got more intense. And honestly, it was extraordinarily helpful. Being a minister, I had no idea how to talk with someone without asking questions in return. I would sit there like, "Um, so you really wanna know more about me?" But I eventually got over it and those sessions changed my perspective and my heart in very real ways. The weirdest way I found support? Through Instagram. I know, I know - it sounds weird. But there's an incredible trying-to-conceive community on Instagram - known as "TTC accounts"-  and these women are all going through different parts of the infertility journey. It ended up being a great place to ask questions and make friends who were dealing with similar treatments at the same time. One of the women that I connected with has become a dear, dear friend and we are due with little girls within 4 days of each other! Her support got me through so many hard days as someone that completely "got it." Support is vital and may come from unlikely places!

3. Recognize the Crisis. 

You're not crazy. What you're going through is really hard!! And just because someone has a worse challenge, a harder life, or a circumstance you can't even begin to fathom - doesn't invalidate your pain. This is hard. And it's not wrong to acknowledge your heartache. I eventually learned to anticipate and plan for my hard days. I discovered that days I went to the doctor, that I needed to plan in more time to process and deal. I learned that events where lots of pregnant women would be present would be hard for me - this didn't mean I didn't attend - but it meant that I took the time to pray and prepare my heart ahead of time. I had to acknowledge the crisis in order to endure it.

4. Recognize your Need for God.

Going through infertility can either make you bitter or draw you closer. There will be moments where you stare into the abyss of bitterness and dip a toe (or five) in. Back away from the edge, dear friend. Bitterness will not give you a baby, comparison will not make you happy, and judging other women will not make infertility any more bearable. Pursuing peace, praying deeply, and soaking up the intimacy that only suffering can produce is far more worth your effort. If you question if God is good - study it out. If you wonder if he hears - study it out. If you question his justice - study it out. The word is full of insights for the hurting, the helpless, and the lonely. It will not leave you nor forsake you. My times with God changed over the course of infertility. The room that will one day hold our baby was a battle ground for me many, many mornings. I put on my spiritual music, prayed (when I could get the words out), studied the word, and tried to work through whatever lie Satan was throwing my way that week. Sometimes, I avoided the subject of infertility altogether and focused on other things about God and prayed more fervently for others. Other days, I went on prayer walks and just tried to bask in God's creation. Whatever it was - I needed God and I couldn't handle infertility without him. But that's the beauty of it - I didn't need to.

5. Lean In.

Ok, I know this is going to sound weird and make me sound slightly "over-spiritual," but bear with me: nearly everyday of our journey (especially as it went on and on), I tried to thank God for the pain of infertility. About halfway into our struggle, I realized that one day, I would miss infertility. I would never miss the heartache or the pain of it - never that - but I recognized the way it drew me closer to God and left me needy for Jesus in a way that was beautiful, sacred, and special. That day, I decided to start leaning in to the pain - and allow it to fulfill its purpose in my life. I thanked God for the intimacy it gave me with Him and the way it brought my husband and I closer and led me to friendships that I never expected beforehand. I thanked him for the sweetness of buying a baby substitute - our little Huckleberry - and the sweetness of to-be-answered-prayers and more time to enjoy just J and just our simple, but still-full life. I thanked God for the ability to understand pain in a way never before known to me and a deeper sense of compassion for other women than anything I had ever experienced. This doesn't mean that everyday I accepted the pain with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step - HA, not.even.close (somewhere, my sweet, patient mother is laughing). But on my better days, I tried really hard to fight for this perspective and fight for gratitude. I still thank God for these things as often and as deeply as I know how. Again, not because I would wish infertility on anyone, but because there was something beautiful developing in our suffering. I don't know what God is producing in you during this time of waiting and hurting and waiting some more - but I do know that it's something precious and absolutely worth every minute of perseverance.

^"Not only so, but we^[c] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

- Romans 5:3-5

I think that's all the words this little post can handle today and it's by no means an expansive guide! If you're currently dealing with infertility, feel free to reach out - I'd love to pray for you and share more about our story if that's helpful! For those of you reading this that haven't experienced infertility - thank you for reading! I hope that this very incomplete guide helped you understand at least one woman's perspective on a complicated topic.

xoxo

A+J

the one with the rejoicing

Well, here I am - finally emerging from a long (and needed) hiatus! So many things have happened since I lasted posted: we kissed summer goodbye, cherished this fall's extra bright foliage, welcomed lots of students into our campus ministry family, turned 29 (okay, that's as of today), endured countless doctor appointments, prayed and cried and prayed some more, and finally, and I mean finally, got pregnant!! I spent the majority of November and December in a state of delighted shock and happy-exhausted-nauseous-but-crazy-happy haze. As the reality of this little miracle sets in - it's hard to even begin to express all that my heart wants and needs to. I'm fairly certain that this post will turn into a series...so prepare yourselves...but also know that I won't be offended if you don't want to follow along. 

That said, today, I'm not really going to discuss the journey or the process or the heartbreak - I'm going to start at the end; I'm going to begin with the rejoicing. 

We found out we were pregnant earlier than we should have...mostly due to my own impatience. I caved and took a pregnancy test (much to my husband's very-wise and very-careful dismay). I day-dreamed of positive pregnancy tests and plus signs more times than I care to remember but there was never a time where we even came close to a positive. It was all stark-white pee sticks for us (sorry, TMI). The first positive brought equal parts shrieking (on my part) and cautious optimism (on J's). We were worried that it could be a false positive due to some medication I was taking so I sent a photo of the test to two friends who had experienced a similar infertility journey. Both texted me with so much enthusiasm I thought my iPhone might explode like a Galaxy Note. A teeny flame of hope began to light in my heart. 

The next morning, I woke up before the sun, heart racing, and took another test. Still. Positive. This flame started to become a full-on fire at this point. I told the only person sure to give me both an accurate - albeit emotional - response: my big sister. Let's just say that when she saw those pink lines - there was zero heart-guarding going on. All the tears, all the joy, all the shock, all the relief. Watching someone you love accept the news that you can't quite believe is the best, most surreal feeling I can describe. 

Two agonizing days (and an election) later, we went in for a blood test. Around noon, the nurse called with the results and we listened - stunned - as she told us what we longed to hear. 

"You're pregnant!" she said, with a huge smile in her voice. We thanked her profusely (through the tears), got off the phone, and Jesse and I just held each other weeping and asking each other if we believed it. I'm not quite sure if we did. We thanked God through the shock and basked in the miracle.

The next few days were filled with sharing the news with the prayer warriors who stuck by us through our darkest days. Seeing their eyes light up, tears stream down their faces, and all of the finally happy prayers -- humbled us in a way I can't describe. 

Romans 12:16 says, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." I think most of us know this verse by heart but I never saw it truly come alive until we faced infertility. Just like I day-dreamed of a positive pregnancy test and just as I still dream of this sweet, sweet baby -- I also dreamed of finally telling people that God heard their prayers on our behalf. I longed to see my faith and the faith of our community become sight. I had a feeling it would be special - but nothing could have prepared me for the outpouring of love Jesse and I received as we shared this news. 

When you wait as long and as publicly as we did, there are moments of so much exposure to the struggle and your own weaknesses, that you're tempted to wonder if it's worth it. However, yet again - God taught me that vulnerability breeds closeness like nothing else. So many of you (that I hardly know!) prayed for us, shed tears for us, and have since rejoiced with us. Each of you have built my faith in indescribable ways. Through you, I dared to believe that God sees me, that God hears me, and that God cares about what I care about. After all, if we as sinful humans can have so much compassion on one another - how much more does our Father in Heaven long to "satisfy our desires with good things" (Psalm 103:5)?

For those of you still waiting, still mourning, still longing - you may not realize it - but you have a community at your disposal who longs to be there for you. Many of you have waited longer and through more trying circumstances than I can begin to imagine - and I cannot and will not pretend to truly understand your pain - but I can promise that God sees you too, he loves you too, he cares about you just as fervently, fiercely, and fully as he cares about anyone else. I hope that the story of our answered prayer gives each of you hope. I long for the day when you too experience the gift of sharing your good news, only to see your own celebration reflected in your friend's eyes. 

Here's a little video I made of some of the responses I got to witness :) And there may be a little announcement at the end that's worth waiting for...

All our love and all of our gratitude, 

A+J 

Photos courtesy of Fergie Medar Photography

the one where i pulled the plug

*not a post on euthanasia* 

In mid-June, I temporarily deactivated my Facebook. It was my first time deactivating since joining Facebook back in 2006 -- you know, back when you had to have a college email address to create a profile? Over the course of my 10 year Facebook career they've invented about a thousand other ways to keep us connected.They added news feeds, opened registration to moms and grandmas the world over, created the chat and messenger features. But in my case, these tools of connection threatened to turn into something a little more sinister - a method of comparison.

So back to June: I was reading this book, and the author asked where we turn in times of anxiety and stress. She asked if we turned to social media to self-medicate - or if we turned to God. It was a question I already knew the answer to. I turned to social media. And inevitably, at the end of these scrolling sessions, I would leave feeling dissatisfied, even more discouraged, and increasingly self-focused. I saw someone's latest adventure and felt dissatisfaction for my own life creeping in. I would read someone's great, beautiful news and be tempted with jealousy. I saw another person's opinion laid bare about some news story or political event and begin to get stressed out. Isn't it amazing how many temptations can come up from a simple scroll?! 

So right then and there, I did something I had been unwilling to do for a long time -- 

I disconnected. 

{Cue my husband doing a happy dance and nearly instantaneous relief washing over me}

Here's what I discovered in my time off Facebook: 

• The world didn't end because I didn't know about so-and-so's engagement or watch so-and-so's hilarious video. In fact, I felt free to enjoy living in my reality rather than someone else's. 

• The birthdays I really needed to know, I remembered/saw them on Instagram/apologized if I was a little late. And guess what?? No one was angry with me! Another valuable life lesson - people aren't usually angry with you for not knowing things :) 

• I had more time to be more present in the real world. I followed more news stories and got a little more educated on the world at large rather than the lives of acquaintances over the Internet. 

• There are plenty of ways to reach me outside of Facebook messenger. Can we all just agree that messenger is the WORST? I'm bad enough at responding to emails in a timely fashion much less an entirely different medium that needs its own separate app!  So anyway, it was nice to finally not disappoint someone for a little while.

• There's something liberating about not knowing. "Sorry I don't have Facebook," became my favorite sentence. All of the sudden, I was free of my 21st century, self-imposed expectation to be constantly "plugged in."  It was inexplicably freeing  find out information a little late - or even, gasp!, not at all. I found I worried about people a little less and trusted God to take care of them a little more. I prayed rather than investigated their Facebook posts. I prayed...and then maybe checked Instagram...but really and truly, my anxiety level went down. 

• Facebook stalking is a sport I will never be in good enough shape for. I think you know what I'm talking about: Your best friend's profile leads to someone else's profile and pretty soon you're down the rabbit hole of someone's cousin twice removed who lives atop a mountain in France with her model husband and chunky baby (with dimples) - and oh look!, she's got another on the way! Before you know it you're coveting someone's life in French and needing to get open with a friend about your secret shame...but then afraid of judgement. Then, you spend the next half hour determining if your Facebook profile pictures look as cool as that couple with a baby on a european mountaintop - change it 15 times, "maybe that one pic of me studying abroad 7 years ago still looks hip?" - only to change it back to the one with you and your dog because - everyone likes a good puppy pic, right? Whew. See what I'm talking about?? EXHAUSTING. And I needed a break (ahem, repentance!) from my severe cyber-stalking.

**disclaimer: I decided to keep Instagram and Twitter. On those mediums, I follow a limited number of people and therefore, have found it less of a black-hole of comparison.**

• Bottom line, I learned that I wanted more for my life than what social media offers. Going forward, my life should be more than a collection of well-curated images, more than witty statements made in 140 characters or less, and more than "likes." After all, I follow Jesus and I'm pretty sure a lot of people wouldn't have "liked" his posts (And believe me, I don't mean this in a high and mighty way - but rather as one of the worst offenders!). I want to do better. I want to be better. Yes, I still want good pictures, fun trips, and dare-I-say-it, approval from those I love - but I hope and pray that I get to a place where those things matter less and less to my own sense of worthiness. I hope and pray that my ego learns to takes a back seat. Who cares what image I present on the internet if the image of Christ isn't the first thing I'm portraying? How easily I had forgotten (ahem, keep forgetting) that my image and my worthiness are not measured in comparison to another person's. Rather, I've exchanged my tattered, too-stretched, ever-flawed image for the unchanging image of Jesus. I've exchanged human approval for the approval of God - and he has already deemed me good enough, valuable, and loved.

 So fast-forward to August and I'm back on Facebook but with a new-found perspective and some self-imposed boundaries. Why go back, you ask? Well, primarily, because it's helpful for my job in the ministry (we use Facebook as our primary mode of communication for announcements with our students) and also because I missed the good pieces of it - swapping life stories (and even sharing my blog) on it! So anyway, here I come Facebook! But beware, if you mess with me again, this time -- I won't be afraid to pull the plug.

What about you? Could a little Facebook break be just what the doctor ordered? :) 

the one she needed to write

she's here

she's a woman caught between stages. she's fixed somewhere between just married and happily ever after. she's not sure who she is. she's not sure who she's becoming. she's unrecognizable. she's ever-changing. she's ever the same. she's defined by this. she's undefined. she's all the things. she's none of them. there's a chance she's crazy.

she hurts

she feels dramatic. she hates that. she wants to pray. she cries instead. when she cries, it's not soft and sweet. it's snotty, red-faced, and audible. she feels embarrassed. but she feels a little better when she stops.

she aches

she goes on living. breathing in, breathing out. she listens to friends. she congratulates good news. she smiles. she laughs. she aches and she aches. she answers 'fine.' she means it sometimes. other times, fine is a fine-line. but overall, she's fine.

she longs

she doesn't want the moon. she doesn't crave the stars. she daydreams of normal. she dreams of no-meds, no-shots, no incessant blood tests. she dreams of pink lines and plus signs, nausea and swollen ankles, booties and sleep-deprivation. she vows to savor. she vows to never complain. she makes promises she knows she can’t keep. she does it anyway.

she waits

nothing is bad. it's more the absence of good. she has seen what could-be. she has felt what might-be. she wishes it came easy. she wonders if it's her fault. she wonders if God knows, if God cares. she wonders what he's doing up there. she keeps going. she keeps praying. she keeps going.

she wonders

she meditates on His promises. she wonders what it all means. she holds on for dear life. she rides the waves of uncertainty. she fixes her eyes on the Father. she paints his or her face in her mind. wondering what kind of special human is being prepared in the heavens. she thinks it must be someone special. someone she can't wait to meet. but someone she's always known.

this is me

the one with the waiting

I hate waiting.

I mean, I HATE it. 

I hate waiting the two minutes for my coffee to brew and get into my cup. 

I hate waiting in lines at the grocery store. 

I hate waiting in traffic. 

I hate waiting for things I want.

I hate waiting for a baby.

Most people who read my blog probably know my big (ahem, skinny) sister. She's the real writer in the family - she effortlessly combines depth, story-telling, advice, and humor in the best kind of way. You also may know that she has four {beautiful, amazing, perfect} children -- and that before there were four, there was infertility. I watched my sister pray, fast, weep, persevere and everything in between during those trying years. 

I always feared that her struggle would become mine when I was ready to try for children. And here I am, relating in my own younger-sister kind of way. I haven't been trying for a really long time but I haven't been trying for a short time either. I'm not going to say exactly how long it's been because I'm sure there are people that have waited for less time / more time than I have who can relate to what I'm experiencing.

I'm consumed with waiting.

It's all I can think about right now. I want to say otherwise. I want to say that I'm fine, that I'm faithful, that I'm at peace, that I'm full of trust, joy, and all those qualities our Lord so perfectly embodies. But I don't feel that way right now. I feel far from that. I know that anxiety makes getting pregnant harder. But how on earth am I supposed to not be anxious right now? I know that this isn't a form of punishment and that I'm young and that Sarah had a baby when she was verging on...dead...but I was kind of hoping for something less difficult, less wrinkly.

I want to just bask in all that I do have - and I have SO much. I feel humbled by all that God's given me and I feel angry at myself for being consumed with waiting when God has done nothing but bestow mercy, blessing, grace, and love in my life. Who am I to question God's timing or God's plan? He's perfect and prayerfully, one day, with a baby in my arms, I'll look back and sigh all motherly and wise and say, "Wow, God's timing was perfect and so much better than mine."

But that's not what I feel right now.

When I was 14, I proclaimed Jesus as my Lord and was baptized into his name. As a young teenager, I remember making him Lord of my doubts, my selfishness, my young-teen emotions. And I meant it. I surrendered and I gave him control of my hormone-ridden life. But really, at 14, I was making a decision to keep making Jesus Lord. At every age, at every stage. I re-made that decision at 15 when my parents moved me to a different state, a different high school, a different culture, a different church; again at 16 when a teenage boy broke my heart and I felt ugly and unlikeable; again in my early twenties when I was in college, dealing with a painful breakup, single and vowing to stay faithful even if marriage wasn't in the cards for me; again in Georgia, again in New York, and here I am again, vowing once more to make Jesus Lord of this circumstance. I'm reminded that I made Jesus Lord of my life at 14 - but really, I'm called to re-make that decision daily. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's difficult. But I find that the real test for me is fairly consistent - will Jesus be Lord of the waiting? Will Jesus remain my Lord, the director of my life, the controller of my decisions while I wait between the mountain-tops, the victories, the blessings?

I answered yes at 14, I'm answering yes at 27, and I promise to keep answering yes.

At every age, at every stage:
Jesus is Lord.

the one with the savoring {in vacationland}

Have you ever had one of those moments where you just look around, smile to yourself, and get that warm-fuzzy, life-is-so-sweet, kind of feeling? The kind of moment where you feel like your heart might burst from just feeling so happy ? It's the moment where you just sit there - wanting so desperately to bottle up the all-too-rare feeling of sheer contentment - before schedules and anxiety inevitably interrupt?

For me, those moments usually happen while driving in the car. They come on all of the sudden: windows-down, summertime sun making me squint, husband in the driver's seat, sandaled feet on the dashboard, driving to or from the beach. And as the [usually country] music blasts and the wind whips my tangly, unruly hair - I just breathe in the fresh, salty air as the New England world outside our window blurs into a vision of green, SO much green, wildflowers, and quaint homes that are too precious for real humans to actually inhabit -- and I take it all in.

It's in these moments, these brief moments of peaceful joy, that my soul remembers that things aren't as stressful as they seem and that life is, actually very wonderful.

We're currently in Kennebunkport with J's family and as I write this - I've somehow packed several of these too-few moments into the last 24 hours. We're staying in the most adorable cottage, backed by a perfect garden with secret benches, a lone chipmunk I call Alvin, and lots of perfect prayer spots. We're close to a beach and a bike ride away from town. We ate lobsters last night and then J and I biked into town with his sister, Jenna, and her husband, Collier. It was the kind of ride that reminded you of childhood, where at some points you're zooming so fast down a hill that you're not sure if you're going to crash to your death or just take off the ground altogether. I'm close to deciding that this is what heaven is like.

Also, someone may or may not have fallen of their bike and into a bush and I may or not still be laughing about it. Ahem, Collier.

I know this moment won't last forever, and I know that even this moment will have its imperfections - but I also know that God must love making moments like this for us. Giving us snap-shots of all-encompassing joy and a taste of our future home with him.

So as August nears its middle and September (and increased responsibility) creeps closer, I plan on savoring every last sweet moment of summertime bliss in Vacationland, USA.

Exchanging "the house with the red door" for "the house with the lime green door" this week.

"He's her lobster!" - Friends (obviously)

The most delicious fresh lobster on our first night.

Sister love :) 

Let's savor, shall we?

xoxo

A+J

the one with all the {remembering}

Ever had a season where things weren't quite what you expected? A time when you expected glory and victory only to be met with struggle and straining? Although I wish we could just go from strength to strength in our spiritual walk, it seems like we typically go from mountaintop to valley and valley to mountaintop over and over again. And during the valleys, I immediately forget the glory of the mountaintop! Instead, (and maybe I'm the only one), I bemoan the valley like I've never ever EVER reached a summit at all! A tad dramatic, right? Well, as I've been reflecting on this truth, I've come across something interesting in the Scriptures that I wanted to share this morning. 

Have you ever noticed that God constantly retells the same stories in Scripture? Repeatedly, he reminds the Israelites of his exploits on their behalf - that he chose their forefather Abraham, that he led them out of Egypt and through the Red Sea, that he rescued them and brought them into the Promised Land. I mean really, it's 500 years later and he's still telling them the SAME story! You know why he does that? Because they're still amazing! 

It's not that God is trying to be his own hype man or that he's being like that weird relative who keeps telling you about his "glory days" of yore (Uncle Rico, anyone?). No, he's trying to remind them - and present-day followers -  that he's powerful, that he's able, that he's still worthy of their trust. And not only that, he's reminding us that he is still capable of doing miracles in our lives today! 

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. 

I will meditate on all your works

and consider all your mighty deeds. 

- Psalm 77:11-12

What about your mountaintop stories? Do you remember when God parted the Red Sea in your life? Do you remember the chains of sin he set you free from? What about the answered prayers you've witnessed or the things you've seen him do in the lives of your friends, family members, fellow Christians? 

Remembrance is a powerful thing. It helps us to keep going and keep trusting in difficult circumstances. It reminds us that things can change and that God has helped us overcome before - and he can certainly help us to overcome again. 

With all this in mind, I bought myself a new journal (is there any greater thrill?), and dedicated it to one thing and one thing only - remembrance. All week, I've been sitting down and writing the things I've seen God do in my life. I've written down the big, obvious things and I've written the things that seem insignificant now, but were HUGE at another point in life. I don't want to forget any of it. 

As I've been writing these victories down, my faith has been strengthened. After all, the same God who orchestrated the victories of the past is certainly capable of doing so again! I'll eventually reach another mountaintop, but in the meantime I can rejoice in what the Lord already done for me. I have plenty of lessons to learn in the valley and miracles to reflect on as I wait. 

I hope this has been helpful. 

Happy Thursday!

xoxo

A+J

the one with home and the holidays

It's 11PM and I've got nothing in front of me but headlights and interstate. We are driving the 12 hours to North Carolina overnight because we wanted to get "home" as fast as possible.  Home has become a relative term for me the last few years as every member of my family has moved multiple times. Now, home simply means a place where we're all together and surprisingly, I'm totally ok with that. So even though I may not always know what to put for my hometown on my Facebook profile (Athens? Cary? Somewhere in Florida? Boston?) -- I'm finally accepting that my scattered "homes" just make me a little more interesting. Knowing that my family is waiting on the other end of this crazy, exhausting drive with a fireplace, a Christmas tree, my brother in law's famous chocolate covered peanut butter balls, and lots of shrieking kiddos makes it all worth it. :) 

And because I so wish I could send all of you a sweet Christmas greeting from Boston to your home (wherever that is!) - I wanted to share some of the photos from our little Christmas card photo session. Thank you, Fergie for taking these pictures for us -- you da best, girl!

Merry Christmas, y'all! We hope you all find a little piece of home and happiness this season! 

Love,

A+J

the one about giving thanks

It's DECEMBER, y'all! Eeek! And as excited as I am to post about Christmas and all the upcoming merriment - it wouldn't be right to neglect Thanksgiving! This year, we stayed in Massachusetts and spent time with Jesse's family on the North Shore. We had so much fun watching movies, eating WAY too much food, shopping, and just spending time together as a family. It was an especially fun holiday with Collier around as our new brother-in-law. He's the perfect addition to our clan:)  

This year, I asked to put together the Thanksgiving tablescape and I loved being able to get a little crafty. The decorations were pretty simple:

- a large glass vase wrapped in twine and filled with autumnal gourds, berries, and pine cones

- 2 little lanterns from AC Moore (for only a $1 or $2!) that I'm using again this Christmas

- pinecones for holding the place cards and around the table

- cardstock and felt markers for the place cards

- postal paper (again, so cheap!) for the "I am thankful for" placemats. 

The placemats were a beast to cut (you should have seen my father in law wrestling the paper to the ground and both of us laughing hysterically on Thanksgiving Eve - quite the bonding moment) but led to a special table conversation. I loved hearing what everyone was thankful for in 2014:)

 It would definitely be an easy table scape to adjust for Christmas - I hope it gives you an idea or two for your home! 

Our Thanksgiving table. Amber (and her new beau, Esteban) joined us!

I found some South Georgia peee-caaans for my sweet potato souffle! My southern soul was pumped.

Lots to be thankful for this year!

As we head into the busy Christmas season, I'm trying to hold onto the message of the Thanksgiving holiday. A friend of mine recently posted a thought about the Scriptures' take on thanksgiving - that the Bible talks significantly more about "giving thanks" than "being thankful" and it got me thinking. Apparently, God desires an active form of gratitude even more than an inward or passive form. I don't know about you, but it's much easier for me to be passive in my thanks - to pray about what I'm thankful for or think about what I'm blessed with. But as we head into December, I'm trying to determine how I can be more actively full of gratitude in my daily life. How can I show my thanks to my God, to my husband, to my family, friends and the less fortunate? I don't want to just be inwardly thankful but externally and joyfully full of thanks! Join me, won't you?!

Here's to a wonderful holiday season!

XOXO

A+J

the one where i got {God} all wrong

"Growing spiritually" can sound a little generic, Christian-y, and virtually meaningless in our modern religious world, can't it? It can be easy to talk the talk of faith and devotion but much harder to sit down and actaully meditate on our connection with the Maker. But there's something about the changing of the seasons that helps me to stop and consider these deeper subjects. As I've been doing that, I've had some realizations that have awed and unnerved me all at once. Maybe they'll encourage you as much as they've been changing me. 

While Jesse and I were in Florida last month, we spent a lot of time talking with my parents about everything from marriage, to our cities, and to our lives in the ministry. During our last dinner (dad's famous steak, of course), we started discussing me and my guilt-ridden self. To be perfectly honest, Jesse MADE me talk to my parents about it...I pretended to be annoyed but I was actually incredibly relieved to talk with them - J knows best:) As it happens, my dad happens to be a recovering guilty-soul himself so he had a lot of insights to share. 

As we talked about what I was feeling, it was clear that my understanding of God and his character had gotten very....off. At some point over my 12 years as a disciple, I started believing that the Father we serve looks at me with ambivalence or worse, displeasure. And that he feels this way all or most of the time! This one lie, this one thought, had started to define and corrupt our relationship. And the more I've opened up about my adherence to this lie - the more I've started realizing that I'm not the only one who believes it.

When I sit down to study the Bible with people for the first time and talk about Christianity, I love turning to Matthew 7:7-11.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

I love this passage because it offers a guarantee of sorts - if we ask something of God - he's going to respond with kindness and grace. But this passage also forces us to consider how we view and look at God - do we view him as a loving father who wants to give us what seek? Or as a rude being who desires to give us a snake and "teach us a lesson"? Of course, I want my answer to be the former - but if I'm being honest, I intellectually know that God is a loving father but I can typically feel like he's the second guy - not totally pleased with me, intending to withhold good things, and typically bent on teaching me something the hard way. 

Sounds like an appealing God to follow, right?

Now where did this warped and twisted thinking come from, you ask? Is it the result of a relationship in my life? Or the culture I grew up in? Is it from my intense perfectionism? Or a weird interaction I had as a kid? Maybe. But I don't think so. The best I can tell - it is a lie as old as time and it started many, many years ago in the Garden of Eden. 

When that snake (ahem, Satan) tempted Eve in the Garden, he convinced her to eat from the tree God banned by convincing her that God was holding out on her, that he wasn't fully letting her in, that he didn't like or love her enough to give her everything in the garden. Now, was that true? Of course not! God was protecting Eve. He was trying to keep her safe from sin and shame and keep her completely and utterly close to him. But she believed the lie. She believed that God was holding back on her and it changed our connection to Him forever. 

Isn't that the same lie that you and I can believe at times? That God is holding back on us? That he doesn't like us enough to give us what we so desperately want? That maybe, just maybe he doesn't love us completely?

As I talked with my parents about some of these things, it became obvious that I needed a perspective overhaul and a reminder of who God really and truly is. It was time to stop exclusively meditating on the "what" of my Christianity and start focusing on the "who". Since that conversation, I've started studying out Jesus' character (I highly recommend the book Jesus the Same -- amazing!!) and remembering God's love for me everyday in my prayers. I keep reading and rereading Romans 8:31-39, willing myself to remember that God's love for me does not vary with my performance, my behavior, or my effectiveness as a disciple. Nothing can separate me from God's love! My dad has also taken it upon himself to send me different verses everyday about God's love and mercy - it's the sweetest thing in the world and my favorite use of iMessage ever:) 

All at once, I'm remembering that God's love is the ultimate reason and motivation for becoming and staying a Christian; it's the answer to our hurting world. Now don't get me wrong - I still whole-heartedly believe that God cares about our actions and our repentance. In fact, I'm convinced of that now more than ever! But I'm also realizing that his love grants you and I the freedom to try to please him all the more - without the fear of failure or the risk of loss. A complete, unshakeable, and unending love like this can provide us with a God-given confidence to face our weaknesses head on, give our hearts to others more fully, and step out on faith like never before. His love can propel us towards righteousness and growth more than duty or obligation ever will! 

I'm not sure if this is something you needed to hear on this September Friday -- but it sure is changing me. I hope that you find some time to bask in the total love of our Maker this weekend. It's incomparable.

xoxo

A+J

Romans 8:31-39