Flash

Yesterday I had a flash.

Sort of like a firework behind my eyes, only I couldn't see it. I just knew that one moment my mind was dark and the next, truth seemed to be exploding and shining light into the dim places.

It was one of those afternoons when the dread of "out of control" was washing over me.

I was hunting for a piece of paper.

To make a list.

Or four lists.

Or maybe just to make a note of "be better at everything" lest I forget that I'm not living up to my unrealistic and unholy expectations of myself.

One particular relationship in our house has been draining me for weeks. I was tired and worn out by the frustration and consumed by a "fix." The kind of consumed where your mind can't rest. You start by thinking about the problem. And thinking and thinking about it. Then you urge yourself to find a solution so you aren't just one of those perpetual whiners. But your search for a solution takes you on a bumpy road, filled with potholes and signs that bear all of your insecurities and paint in bright colors the fears that YOU, in fact, are the source of the frustration to begin with. So if you want to fix it, you have to start by knocking yourself all to pieces and then rebuild yourself as a new, in control woman.

Control.

When I get flustered, I want control.

I want a list to tell me how to get that control.

To make order.

To own and manipulate.

As I simultaneously lamented my failures and clung to the abilities that I believed could put me back into a sense of controlled, or controlling, well-being, I had the flash.

I realized that when I am overcome by a weight of "out of control" it means that I have tried to take something that is not mine.

When I can't settle into my life and relax in the ebb and flow of my days, it means that I have abandoned what has been very specially planned and saved for me while I'm on this earth and traded it for a heavy, impossible load.

When I take something that belongs in God's hands, and try to trap it into my own, I upset the balance of my relationship with the Creator.

It should come as no surprise that I feel out of control.

I never had control.

And in actuality, it sure sounds a lot better to know that someone who is everywhere and knows everything and can do anything is the one who is leading this pony.

Why on earth would I actively choose to spend my days in a frenzy, making lists to tell me what to do, how to change, what to stop and what to start? Why not, instead, when I feel that so-very-strong temptation to take something that is not mine, could I not realize what I've done and open my hands immediately.

My temptation, when feeling unsettled, is to curl up into a tight ball and hold what I think is mine close to my chest with my body ridged and weary around it. Who would have imagined that the solution would be instead to expand and stretch and open my arms to allow all that is not mine, all that I should have not tried to control in the first place, to go. To be in someone else's hands. To be in the hands of one much more capable than I.

Can I tell you, when I realized this, I was in my bathroom. I was trying to catch my breath and find my bearings and trying to shake off the soul-crushing weight of being a failure at making my life fit into my skewed understanding of "good."

I saw the pop of light and watched the little trickles of glitter fall over my weary mind and my heart that was bruised by the heavy load I had been trying to hold.

I made a decision to open my hands and drop my list and believe that God loves me.

When I left the bathroom, the difficulties were still there.

But so was peace.

I haven't fixed anything. The things that were hard before I went into the bathroom are still hard. The difference is, I feel more agile and sure footed when walking this trail.

The difference is, when I look at the trouble, I don't need to fix it.

My breath comes easily, in and out, trusting that as I take the time to breathe, God is caring, and participating, and holding all that is his, handing me beautiful pieces to look after as he sees fit.

My habit of holding too much has taken its toll, and I am sure that I have some recovering and restoring to do, but I see another way of approaching life. With my feet shod with the readiness of God's peace, I plan to walk in it.

Care to join me?

On Guard!

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."

Proverbs 4:23

The past few weeks I've spent a lot of time in my own head. Thinking, asking questions, reading, recognizing themes in my life.

I am always seeking to find balance in my life. On one hand it feels like a never-ending chase and on the other, it feels like a worthy goal and admirable lifetime pursuit.

All of this introspection and meditation has led me to the Proverbs and to other well-known scriptures. It has been a refreshing few weeks of re-learning to love God's word and ingest it, so that it slowly becomes part of my person.

Proverbs 4:23 is one that was really "popular" when I was in high school. In a lot of scenarios it felt like it could be interpreted as "Above all, guard your virginity..." But now I'm a married woman and sex is good and right and wonderful- and this verse is still in the bible! It didn't disappear, so it must still have value for those of us who aren't guarding our lady-gardens.

I've been pondering and praying and hoping that I could understand what it means. The wellspring of life sounds like a pretty crucial part of living, so I figure it would be worth some contemplation.

And here is what I've discovered in my life: I need to guard my heart.

Are you amazed?

Brilliant, I know.

Rather than guarding my heart from a premature relationship or romantic infatuation I need to guard my heart from:

Unrealistic Expectations

Fear

Jealousy

Self-obsession

Greed

Dissatisfaction

Flippancy

Hard-heartedness

...

These things creep in so quietly, and are so culturally approved, that I don't even notice that they have taken up residence in my thoughts and emotions until I am in the midst of a melt-down or am thinking cruel thoughts toward someone I am supposed to love.

When I am obsessed with my own expectations of how an event should work, or how Jack should behave, the life drains out of me. When I focus on what I don't have rather than what I do, my days feel long, lifeless and always wanting.

So, if I want the wellspring of my life to be overflowing and fresh and sweet, I need to be actively guarding against those things that would strangle my heart. When I am disappointed because Andy didn't say just thing I wanted to hear, I need to guard my heart from bitterness. When I look at a friend who seems to have it all together, I need to guard my heart from self-criticizing. When I make my Christmas list, I need to guard my heart from greed and envy.

At each turn of the day I have to be on the lookout. It is so much easier to stop something from taking hold of me than to loosen a thing that already has a grip. But at whatever point, it needs to be done. I want to be a woman who overflows, whose spring produces clear, refreshing water. Water that revives, nourishes and heals the lives around me. And to be that, I need to guard my heart.

Lord, please teach us to be on guard. To be active in filtering out those things that want to gain access to our heart, but don't bring us life. Shine your light on the righteous and reveal the things that carry death. You are good.

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!

Red Shoe Revelations

On Saturday the snow was starting to melt, but because there was so much of it the side streets and driveways were treacherously covered in dark, gritty slush.  

Gross.

Very gross.

I had planned to meet my good mommy-friend at, where else, Target.  We both had money from Christmas and were eager for an excuse to get out of the house and swap mommy stories.

On Friday I had ventured out with Lizzie to spend some of my aforementioned Christmas cash.  I had found not one, but two dazzling red shoes on super clearance.  

Exhibit A: Deep red flats bejeweled with huge, bright gems ($10).

Exhibit B: Shiny ruby heels ($12).

That brings my red shoe total to three, or four if you count my satin zebra slippers with red leather accents.

Is that terrible?

You are probably wondering if my revelation from God was that I had too many red shoes.  It wasn't.  Whew!

Maybe he is saving that for another day. 

I hope not.

Anyway....

You know how it is when you have new things to wear.  You want to show them off as soon as possible.  And, seeing as how I was cooped up for weeks and weeks and weeks (maybe I'm exaggerating, but only a little) I was excited about the prospect of being SEEN.  It seemed like a good occasion to christen my new footwear.

Because it was a simple outing and I only expected to go from my car to the store, I donned the flats.  Sure there was still snow on the ground, but by Saturday it was very melty, remember?

My house to the car.  Fine.

My car to the store. Fine.

Inside the store, waltzing around.  Dazzling.

But then we added a trip to my bud's house.  She warned me that her parking lot was a mess and impossible to navigate with the said slush.  But never fear, there was a "trail" from a nearby strip-mall that would take us right to her door, and the public parking was much better for little cars. 

Great!  More visiting time!

It turned out though that my bejeweled shoes were no match for the muck.  My first step out of the car landed in a puddle up to my ankle, completely submerging my new shoes in dark, oily, ice-cold water. 

EWWWW!

The trail was no better. With each step, I saw my new, sweet slippers darkened, smudged, sullied by the snowy wasteland.  

I considered crying.  I considered whining.  I considered forgoing the whole visit in an attempt to save my shoes.

But my heart heard a little whisper.  "They are just shoes."

Okay, I realize that that may not be a major revelation to most of you.  But in the process of coming to terms with the mess that is motherhood, I have taken refuge in fashion.  I like looking together.  I like being "that mom" who makes it seem so easy.  

There is nothing wrong with looking good.  Or with my glittery red shoes.  But there is something wrong when they own me. Which I confess was starting to happen.

So as I sloshed through the puddles, and watched the toes of my shoes blacken (you can see it in the picture) I just smiled.  

I was with my friend, headed to a warm cozy house. I could have mourned the wreckage of my purchase, but instead, I choose to let it be.

We had a yummy lunch, lots of laughs and a successful hair-dying.  I would have missed out on so much had I been absorbed in the state of my shoes.

I wonder how many other moments in my life I need to say, "They are just shoes."?  "It is just..." I don't want to be a woman who is blown and tossed by the winds.  I want to be steady, secure, sure.  I do not want to be distracted by disappointments and miss the joy that is waiting to be lived. 

Exhibit A, the flats, were just the first taste of my realization.  The heels took their turn later that evening.  But I think, that part of the story will have to wait until tomorrow.  

Stay tuned for Red Shoe Revelations: Part Two.  

Tomorrow.

I promise.

I Learned My Lesson

Do you ever have those days, weeks, months, or years when you know you are learning something good?  Something that you need to hold onto and let become part of who you are?

I had that day yesterday.

I had simple opportunities to be disappointed.  Discouraged.  Frustrated.  

If I had decided to pick up and carry those emotions, I would have missed out on what turned out to be a wonderful day.

Something happened inside of me that allowed me to quell the rising dismay.  I saw my moment of frustration in light of a bigger life.  Why waste my tears, emotions, time on a reaction that doesn't reflect who I want to be?  Why buy into a mentality that I don't want to define my character?

Instead, I respond with grace, with peace, and yes, with joy.

I know this attitude wasn't my own.  It can only be evidence of God transforming my heart.  I am glad to say that He is working in me. That is what I want.  

I will tell you the story, but in a future post. At this exact moment I have Eggs Benedict to make and a baby to play with.  I will tell you though, my revelation came from two pairs of red shoes.  Who knew that God could speak through fashionable footwear?  But He's God and I'm thankful He speaks to me at all!  

I Can Do That

I made them.

They are good.

I won't make them again.

It took ALL DAY.  As in EIGHT-PLUS hours.

I'm still tired from it.

BUT, I feel very proud for having accomplished it.  Especially considering my track record with other baked goods.

I'm also feeling smug for being in the midst of a two-baby day (meaning that I have Dane all day, which is A LOT of work) and having gotten in a shower and now stealing a moment to brag about my accomplishment.  I ROCK!  

Also,

I had a mini-realization this morning in the shower.  My life as a mom is not glamourous.  Before 9:00 this morning I had already been spit on, peed on, had slimy banana in my arm hair, changed a poopy diaper, been pinched, and done a ridiculous dance to please a 17 and 8 month old.

The fact that motherhood is not glamourous was not the revelation.  It was the fact that I expected it to be.  

A lightbulb went on for me.  

So much of my discouragement, frustration, sadness or anger comes from unmet expectations. Many, many times I don't even realize that I hold those conceptions of what my life will, or should, be like.  Once I see them, then I can work on adjusting to a more realistic appreciation for what my life is, rather than what it might be. 

I aspire to glamour.  In my hair, my fashion choices, in my home, in the way people perceive me.  But it is just another endless chase.  

A few entries ago I mentioned a sort of fantasy book series that I had enjoyed.  The tales blend fairy-folk and other mythical creatures into the world as we know it (cheesy, I know, but guys, I love that kind of stuff).  The author describes the fae as "wearing their glamour."  The idea is that they don't want people to see what they really look like, so the create an image to portray to the world.  

That is what I use glamour for too.  I want to hid behind an image that says "I've got it together."  But sometimes, I just don't. Okay, sometimes I DO have it together, but I've already done my bragging for this entry... 

I want to use glamour to hide fatigue, discouragement, indecision, boredom, and a myriad of other hard emotions that seem taboo.

What I want more, NEED more, than glamour is satisfaction.  Fruitfulness in the things that bless God's heart: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control.  

So instead of lamenting the fact that my life is messy, figuratively and literally, why not delight in the sweetness of what it is right now?  Today.  

Well, my time is up.  Messy babies are calling me to pull them from cribs and feed them and pour love into their day.  I can do that.  I can do it gracefully and honestly.  I can do that with no pretense and no need for a show.  And I will.

Here I come babies.  It is going to be a lovely day.

John 10:10

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

I have confession.  In the last weeks I have fallen victim to the thief.  What has he stolen?  Joy, confidence, acceptance, energy, peace.  What has been left in the wake? Fear, guilt, anxiety, sadness, confusion.  

I was weak and I let the thief walk away with my dreams and hopes.  I barely put up a fight.  I don't think I knew what was happening until they were gone.  

The thief is a master of disguise.  In a season of life where mothers are expected to be tired, overwhelmed, distanced from spouses, and even depressed, I accepted the changes and didn't question.  I assumed they would just go away.  

But here I am.  Seven months into motherhood and discouraged.  I battle daily to find simple pleasures, to approach another load of dishes or laundry, or sometimes even Jack, without grumbling, to LIVE THIS SEASON TO THE FULL.  My thoughts turn sour at the slightest bump.  Instead of my usual optimism and confidence in God's love and provision and my ability to hear him, I assume the worst.  I assume that I am alone, unwanted and doing everything wrong.

It hurts.  It feels crushing.  I almost want to give in.

BUT I WON'T.

Jesus said he came that "they might have life, and have it to the full."  That EMILY might have life to the full.  

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Corinthians 3:17

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control."  Galatians 5:22,23

"... I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10

I was reading in Genesis last week and came to the chapter where Abram and Lot are about to part ways.  God says to Abram, "Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west.  All the land that you see I will give to you... Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you." Genesis 13:14,17

I distinctly heard God call me to look up from where I am.  In the middle of the day, I see a dirty house, a needy baby, dinner to make, not enough time to enjoy the company of my husband... those things discourage me.  My feeble view of the future looks like more of the same for awhile, instead of the life of adventure and purpose that I crave.  

But God sees all of the north, south, east and west.  He sees it ALL.  He knows where I am now and he knows what he plans to give me.  It is going to be more than I could ever even think to ask for.  

So his challenge to me?  To Go. To walk the length and breadth of the land.  To love him each day and to flourish in the midst of diapers, in the midst of loneliness and in spite of the foggy future.  Just GO.  Live it up.  Thrive.  Set down roots of faith in him and obedience.  Keep my hands open to receive daily doses of the joy and peace that I need.  Live with gratitude and endurance.

This season, this battle, this daily fight to accept the gift of full life, is necessary to shape me for the things God has in store.  Truthfully, that knowledge doesn't really make it feel any easier, but I have to learn that my feelings aren't always going to reflect the truth of who God is and how he's working in my life.  They can be a tool, but I've been relying on them too heavily.

So now, on to the art of living.  God, please seal this truth in me.  

Courage to you friends as you look north, south, east and west and as you go claim the land God has promised you.  

Perspective

A few days ago I met some pre-baby friends for lunch.  Of the four of us I was the only mom with a baby in tow (I think they are all moms in their heart, but just without the baby yet).  As the meal drew to a close Jack started to fuss.  Personal and significant stories were shared and as much as I wanted to support and tend to my friends, Jack's cries were louder than theirs.

I left the restaurant feeling discouraged and "out of commission." In the past two years, my life has completely up-ended.  I've gone from being happily single, to happily married, to happily caring for a family.  Each addition to my life has been full of joy, frustration, acknowledgements of my shortcomings and all the things that come with significant relationships and changes.  Each transition has also transformed my perspective and what I think of as my "reach."

As a single woman I had time, money and energy to share.  Those things are still there, but as a wife and mom my first priority is to share those things with my husband and baby. What remains is what I have to give and some days it feels like so much less than what I would wish.

But here is the conclusion I've reached.  It is okay.  It is okay to mourn the loss of what I was once able to do.  It is okay to be family-centered.  It is okay to say "no" once in a while. 

What I don't want is to fall into the trap that says that I'm not as good as I once was.  It is so dangerous for me to look back at a different season and say one was better than the other.  God has given me a wonderful life that I LOVE, how ungrateful of me to say, "Why thank you God, but are you sure this is as good as what I used to do?  Are you sure I am as usable or as interesting, or as ... whatever?"

I trust that I am where I need to be.  I am thankful and amazed.  I am making time and space to listen to God's promptings and practicing discipline in prayer and study.  I'm learning to trust that He is good and faithful.  

And seriously, how could anyone regret trading singlehood for this...

Overwhelmed

I'm overwhelmed.  In an good, amazed sort of way.  

Here's what my life looks like at this moment: 

Jack is snoozing and I just finished a thrown together lunch (nachos with cheddar and feta cheese - not very Emily like, but it is what I had in the fridge - and I like it) and ice water.  The Olympics are on in the background, Parenting magazine is open on my living room floor.  

My life is lovely.  My husband adores me and tells me so.  My baby is happy and healthy.  I have more than I need.

I live in a world that is assaulted by media that sells fear, guilt and discontent.  It is commonplace to hear those emotions seep into conversations.  Fear from Christians that they aren't living God's will.  Guilt from mothers that they aren't providing the most perfect environment for their precious babies to thrive.  Discontent from everyone that gas is too expensive, they can't afford brand name jeans and he said this or didn't do that. 

I think we get in the habit of being unhappy.  It seems unfathomable to live without those emotions.  Impossible.  Even scary.  If I'm not discontent, what will I be?  If I look at myself in the mirror and say, "I am just right" people will think I'm a snob.  If I don't stress constantly about whether or not I'm in God's will, will people think I'm not seeking God?

But it is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  This week I feel like I am catching a better glimpse of who Jesus is and why he would humble himself to save me.  I am loved.  I am a deliberate creation.  When God says he has a plan for me - a plan to prosper me and not to harm me... I believe him! 

What a difference to live with hope, with a humble confidence (in Jesus, not myself), with joy, with wonder and delight in simple things and to face each decision with confidence that God is not testing me or disappointed with me.  I am his daughter.  He knows what he has created me for - for love, for joy, for peace, to add beauty to this world and to call out giftedness in those I meet.  

I am indeed overwhelmed to tears.  God is present.  He is active.  And is is FOR me, not against me.  I feel burdened for the hearts that are caught in the cycle of trying to please and trying to perform and trying to prove themselves.  I have been there.  I will be there again, I'm sure.  But today, I see Jesus.  I walk with him and I am astonished that he walks with me, and enjoys it. 

There is approval in the Kingdom of God.  There is celebration.  Thank you Father!  Please help me to remember and live these things.  Strengthen me to live free of the burdens that come so easily.  And teach me to be a burden lifter.  Thank you for all you have done for me!

A Brave New World

Wow, I've actually entered the world of blogging.  

This morning I came to a conclusion.  I'm a girl.  Okay... that was not my conclusion... bear with me, I have to give some background...  Girls like to talk about their feelings right?  I have lots of feelings.  Sometimes they are emotions, sometimes they are reflections, sometimes just thoughts about how to make the world a better place... Pictures and words well up in my mind and if they don't get a chance to flow out, they become distorted and I get cranky.  

Nobody wants to be around a cranky girl. 

But talking about those feelings  is hard work.  I have to make sure they come out just right.  When you have a conversation, there is no deleting the wrong words.  You can't hit save and come back later to edit your sentences or clarify your meaning.  For some thoughts, writing is better.  

And sometimes there is the reality that even if I did want to share verbally, there just isn't anyone to express myself to. Friends are busy, my husband has to work (or has already patiently listened to me talk for days on end and I just love him too much to put him through it again today), strangers are skeptical, and despite Jack's sweet smile as I babble at him, I'm not sure he really gets it.  

So, here's a toast to a brave new world, at least for me, and a home for all of those feelings.