Spoken To

Yesterday, after a day of trying to reconcile my emotions to truth, I walked into church and was handed this note by a sweet friend:

"Emily, there are dreams and visions in your heart, put there by God himself.  Write them down and continue to trust the God that will complete the amazing stuff he has begun in you."

Accompanying the card was a pocket-sized notebook with "ideas... can change the world" on the cover. 

Immediately tears started to roll down my cheeks.  My sweet friend came over for a hug and told me how the gift came about.  As she escaped to Starbucks between services (she's an employee at our church and Sundays are super busy for her) for some quiet time, she saw the notebook and "just knew" she had to get it for me.  In her words, it was one of those "Holy Spirit Moments." She felt silly, but did it anyway.

I can not tell you how amazing it was to be reminded that God cares for me.  For the teeny, tiny details of my life.  

While I love motherhood, it has changed the way I dream.  Where I used to see endless possibility, I for some reason now see roadblocks and insignificance. I struggle daily to see my activities as worship, not as worthless. 

I get trapped in the smallness of my life and forget that God sees so much further than today.  

More significantly than that.  I think I also forget that God CARES.  But he does!  He sees me, he remembers me.  He is responsible for those dreams that I keep tucked away.  And, if I were very, very honest, I might say that he doesn't even want them to be tucked away, that some of them are for now, and I am just too afraid to believe that. 

In October I wrote this.  It is still fresh in my life.  I still need to remember these truths.  

My prayer for us - as women, as wives, as mothers, as lovers of Jesus - is that we would see what God is doing.  That we would see beauty, in ourselves and around us.  That we would be courageous and know truth.  That the world would be changed because of women who believe God's promises.  

I hope that today you are encouraged and that you allow yourself to be reminded of God's care.  The small things matter.  You matter. 

Peace and Joy to you friends.

The Sweetest Thing

Lately I've really been craving to have my own vegetable garden. 

I'm not sure why, since I have abhorred all my previous experiences weeding and doing any other sort of yard work. And I detest the feeling of having grit under my fingernails and tucked behind my cuticles. 

But nevertheless, I want to grow something.

Ellery has been very interested in growing things lately too.

Since we live in a condo, there is really no plot of earth to claim as my own.  But my mom volunteered a space in her back yard.  

Yesterday, although it was quite chilly, it was clear, so Ellery and I went out to dig up the weeds and pick out the rocks that were in the bed.

The whole thing was pretty much as un-fun as I always imagined gardening, but not quite.  I guess more unproductive than un-fun.  It was more just a big silly show.

Ellery was very excited to help and kept asking me what we were going to put in there and what her job would be.  When we were picking out weeds she asked me why we were taking them out and we had a long talk about why we get rid of weeds.

I made everything up, but it worked for her.

She took to calling the weeds, "The evil guys," and saying, "Take that!" when she pulled them out.  (I told her the weeds stole all the food from the plants that we wanted to grow, so I think that is where the "evil" came from.)

After about 20 minutes I was thwarted.  The wheelbarrow had a flat tire and the place I had been directed to move the dirt was, upon further consideration, deemed unacceptable. 

So, with cold fingers and a disappointed little sister I went inside.

But, never fear!  Dad to the rescue!  

Let it be known, that I might possibly have the most gentle and kind dad ever known to a girl.  

Even though he was feeling a bit under the weather (more than a bit I surmise) he went right out to the patch of weeds and cleared everything away!  Everything!

So now I have freshly cleared plot to plant my carrots and strawberries and herbs.  

Ellery and I are going to have a blast this spring!

While that was sweet, it gets sweeter still!

Now friends, I'm not sure if you are prepared for this...

I wish you could have seen it...

Andy planned to meet us at my parent's house after work and some errands.  After the gardening, Ellery and I were coloring pictures and my mom was playing with Jack.

We heard Andy coming up the porch stairs and all looked up, eager to see him.

Do you know what that boy did?  He walked in with three single stem flowers.  He presented a white carnation to my mom, a pink one to Ellery and a red one for me.  

Ladies, you would not believe the smile on Ellery's face.  She just GLOWED!

She kept saying, "My very own rose!" 

My mom and I put ours in a vase, but Ellery carried hers around for several minutes, periodically smelling it and smiling. 

On the pictures we had been drawing earlier, I had put a pink flower.  Ellery looked at it and said, "and that can be my rose."

So, Ellery has received her first flower from a boy. 

Cheers to the sweet men in my life, Andy and Daddy!  Thanks boys for loving your ladies so well! 

Red Shoe Revelations: Part II

Okay, so I broke my promise.  I should know better than to assume that any day will go the way I plan.

I am hoping you will forgive me when I tell you that instead of revealing my RSR:II yesterday I was busying learning the two-step with my adorable husband.  

This was a pretty major night since we have never, in our two years of marriage (and 7 month dating/engagement period) danced together.  Never.

Not once.

Until last night.  

We were both TERRIBLE, but we had a blast.

So now, on to last Saturday evening when I donned my Exhibit B shoes.

For Christmas, Andy surprised me with tickets to the Pacific Northwest Ballet's presentation of the Nutcracker. 

I really wanted to go before Christmas, but we decided that financially it wasn't the best use of our money.  Instead we made a plan to go next year as a belated anniversary celebration.  Do the whole dress-up, dinner out thing.

I was okay with that.

But I was even more okay when I opened my presents on Christmas Eve and discovered two tickets that Andy had sneakily commandeered by way of my equally sneaky mother. 

His hard work at making it a surprise was almost blown when Ellery wanted to tell me about the tickets early.

But that has nothing to do with my red shoes, so we'll save that story for another time...

So, I finally got the tickets and Andy's mom, Angie, offered to watch Jack.  

Earlier in the day I had been totally drenched in snow-muck, so I was so excited to redress and give the day another shot at being cute. 

Plus, what woman doesn't like to dress up when she goes out with her hunky man?

My mom had also given me a very swanky black jacket and I put it on with my red heels.  I remembered the afternoon's debacle, but my vanity won out.  I was determined to be fancy for the fancy Nutcracker.

So I got all dressed and pranced around the house, preening for Andy and his mom.  My heel-walk saying, "look at me, look at meee!"

We made our way out of the house and down the steps...

But my first step onto the side walk sent me right back up the stairs.  

I just KNEW that it would be foolish to try and make it through an evening with those shoes on.  

Another day would be fine.  But Saturday was just too melty and yucky.

So I went back upstairs, put on my ugly, snow-safe, clogs and then traded my swanky jacket for my still cute, but not special occasion worthy, green peacoat.

During my quick change Andy had warmed up the car and was waiting for me right outside our door.  I got in the car and he sympathetically said, "I'm sorry honey."

He knows how much I like being dressed up, and he knew that the weather was putting a serious damper on my style.  

But here was the moment that I had the chance to choose to either pout, and have my evening spoiled, or just roll with the punches.  

On our last several dates, 

I am ashamed to admit that I have been 

the most unpleasant version of myself.  

I have given into tears and tantrums 

and carried a dark cloud into our rare times 

without a babe.

I don't know why I kept doing that, 

but it was becoming an issue and I resolved to stop it.  

What husband is going to want to keep taking his wife out 

when all she does is complain and cry 

when he tries to do something nice.  

It just doesn't make sense.  

So there I was, in the ugliest pair of shoes that I own, on my way to the most extravagant outing, probably of the last year. 

But when Andy said, "I'm sorry honey," something clicked for me.  The dressing up is my thing.  Andy doesn't need me to be all dolled up to have a good time.  He just needs me to be happy and comfortable and companionable.  

Truth be told, he probably doesn't think those shoes are all that great anyway. 

So when I got into the car, I made a choice to not even mention the shoes.  I would carry myself and behave as if I was the hippest girl around. I would smile, I would laugh, I would flirt with my beloved.

And can I tell you what!

My decision to enjoy myself, regardless of my appearance, was honored. Our dinner conversation was significant, full of hopes for the New Year, thoughts on the state of the Church, musings of how we as a family can have a greater impact for the Kingdom of God.  

And our car ride was peppered with mutual admiration for each other.  My lighthearted attitude provided an open door for Andy to express his gratitude for something I had done earlier, a small act that had made a big impact on him.  I would never had known if I had let the storm simmer.

And while Andy was totally miserable at the ballet (he fell asleep in the first act) we both, with unspoken unity, resolved that the night would be a fun one.  I didn't shame him for sleeping, he didn't grumble about being there.

In the past I have let the small things become large.  I have let my evenings be spoiled by unmet expectations or minor offenses.  I have decided to be mad. 

What a waste!

I can build the habit of happiness.  I can make the choice to set aside my ideas of "perfect" and enjoy what is.  

For this New Year, I want to train myself to be content.  To choose levity.  To breath life into my husband and son with the words I speak and the peace I promote.  To be unruffled by the minors of this world.  

So, my dear red shoes, thank you for this lesson.  I am sure there are many more to be had.  But I will take a day, or month or lifetime to soak this one in.

"But godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."  

1 Timothy 6:6

Happy New Year!

The Importance of Ribbon

Today my nails are painted a bright, Barbie pink.  I've been snowed in for what feels like ages  and my solution was to paint my nails. It only distracted me from the trapped feeling for about 15 minutes, but, hey, that's something.

You may be wondering, "Emily.  Don't you know it is Christmas?  Pink is not a very festive color.  Why not red?"

Well, the answer is that I just felt like pink.  Okay?  

If it makes you feel any better, the presents that I've wrapped are VERY traditional this year.  Red and green and that is it.  

Last year they were a lovely brown and gold and turquoise.  Sigh.  BEAUTIFUL!  And very elegant.

But this year, the classics called to me.  

I was feeling so smug about getting a jump on Christmas earlier in the month, but all of a sudden, the 25th is just two days away and I still have a pile of presents to wrap.  Albeit, most of them I am wrapping for other people, as in, I offered to wrap their gifts to loved ones, but still, the fact remains that I have wrapping yet to do.

But I'm thwarted.  I've encountered a problem.  

I have no ribbon left. 

Ribbon is essential!  

None of those plastic bows for me!  

Wired lined ribbon preferably. 

You are probably thinking, "Well Emily-of-pink-nails-even-though-they-should-be-red, why don't you just go get some more ribbon?"

The answer to that is not so simple.  

First, there is the issue of the snow.  

Who really wants to traipse around with a baby when it is frigid and wet and a little bit scary? Call me a wimp if you must, but all that festive frosting on the road is a little intimidating. Our little side street is still exactly the same color as the sidewalks, yards and roofs.  WHITE.

Second, there is the issue of... well... what to call it? Practicality?

Is it really necessary for me to spent $10+ on ribbon, just so I can show off my gift gilding skills? Like most, I went just a teeny-tiny over what I intended to spend on presents.  I just like giving people what they want.  

As the house-wife that I now am, I am very conscious that if Andy's job is to make money, my job is not to spend it, but to save it.  I tend to be a little self-indulgent (hard to believe, I know, but true).  That is a habit I am very much trying to break. So, is the purchase of ribbon just to satisfy my personal pride in presenting beautiful packages?  Or is it a legitimate purchase to help express my love for the recipients of gifts?

$10 could be put to lots of uses:

a new pair of pants for Jack

dinner at Gorditos (yummmmm)

half a package of diapers

a coffee treat for me and a friend to facilitate a much needed connection

admission to the Children's Museum

a box of crackers from Costco to stock Andy's lunch for a month

See.  Not so simple.

This quandary needs further reflection.  I think I'll feed Jack, take a shower, and see where the day takes me.  I have a feeling it will take me to Target and to the ribbon isle, but we shall see.  We shall see.