It’s been almost two years since my husband passed away from cancer, 19 months since the release of my book, “The Apple of My Eye,” and one year since I published anything written on this site. With the exception of my book, I’ve been largely silent since the passing of my husband.

I feel like a fish out of water.

But life hasn’t remained stagnant. COVID happened and seems like it’s here to stay. My kids and I have been working our way – slowly, surely, and uniquely – through grief. This website has undergone a massive platform change and it took a whole YEAR for it to finally be finished. 2021 was my best year ever for the photography business! And I’m dating again.

I have no idea where the future is heading, but God is present, active, and very much at work.

Yes, God is before us, behind us, and beside us. We not alone in the uncertainty of what is to come.

Maybe you find yourself deep in the aftermath of a divorce. Maybe your teen is struggling with addiction and you’re clueless as to how to help. Perhaps you’re grieving the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, the loss of a dream you once held dear. Maybe you’ve fallen away from church and COVID has taken a toll on your friendships. Maybe you’re lost in a sea of medical bills, appointments, and worries. Maybe you can’t forget, can’t forgive. And your heart feels tender. Or broken. Maybe it’s just all TOO MUCH, and you’re over it. Maybe you don’t know where to start or how to start over.

I don’t know where you find yourself today. But if you’re like me, you’re in a bit of a transition season.

Let’s ask ourselves three important questions…

1. Where am I?
2. What do I want?
3. Who is with me and for me?

Sit with the questions. Sit with the answers. Let yourself feel and let yourself hope. Be grateful. And be open to the surprise of what you might uncover and discover as a result of this sitting with your life. Just for a moment. Be still. Be still some more.

Then, when the time is right, when you know in your heart, your soul, your very being, that the time is right to move along, to move through, to move forward towards whatever that next thing is? Do it. Begin again. Know you have everything in you to lead the life God purposed for you and only you. You are here for a reason. You’re not finished yet. Not only will you get through this, but eventually, you will thrive. Yes, thrive.

Begin again.

There is more for you. The best days of your life are indeed, AHEAD. Believe it.

Begin.

Again.

We were sure.

So sure.

We were certain God was writing a tailor-made story.

Each one of us had reasons – 2 1/2 months of reasons, a lifetime of reasons – as to why this made complete sense, why this particular opportunity HAD to be from God.

I can tell you with certainty that in the 22 years I’ve been with my husband, this was the first time I could see, could sense, could pinpoint a crystal-clear calling on his life. All the pieces leading up to this point made complete sense. Yes, I can say for sure, even in hindsight, that the calling on his life was clear in a way it had never been before.

What is a calling, you ask? How in the world do you define calling? It sounds so mysterious, doesn’t it? So religious. Something reserved for pastors and missionaries, perhaps. How do you know when God is calling you to do something, calling you to go somewhere, calling you to be the specific someone He intended you to be?

A few of us have 100% certainty as to what we’re supposed to do, where we’re supposed to go and who we’re supposed to be. But most of us guess, sense, study, pray and simply BELIEVE there HAS to be a greater reason, a greater purpose for our life, for our story.

That’s a calling, I guess. Going where God wants us to go. Following His lead. Listening for a still small voice. Taking chances when we don’t know the outcome. Being present in ordinary and difficult circumstances. Waiting for His whisper to tell us where and how we’ll have the most extraordinary impact in this world. Quieting ourselves until God tells us yes, or no. Trusting He’ll guide us towards what’s best. Becoming more like Him, day in and day out.

Calling.

It’s not the word I once thought it was. (At least for right now, that is.)

Perhaps I’m a bit confused.

Perhaps I’ve been a bit misguided.

Perhaps my definition of calling has been too dreamy, too wishful, too worldly.

Perhaps my definition of calling has been too specific, too narrow, too logical.

Perhaps I’ve overthought the concept of calling.

Perhaps I’ve had it all wrong.

I’m okay saying “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Only God.

Only God truly knows.

So 2 1/2 months. Yes, 2 1/2 months we invested in this thing we thought was a calling.

As I watch the leaves blow in the breeze, I’m still a bit jaded, a bit disappointed, thrown off and uncertain as to why 2 1/2 months of step by step, waiting and waiting some more, answers then more answers, action and even more action – all seemingly from God – ultimately led to NOTHING.

Could it be that an outcome we perceive as absolutely NOTHING is actually SOMETHING? That God works even in the midst of NOTHING?

I know the truth. Yet, I don’t know. You know what I mean?

Only God.

Only God truly knows.

My husband was prompt. The minute he learned of the opportunity, he did his part. He did everything right, staying on track ’till late that first night.

Days passed.

Nothing. Nada. Nope.

Finally, an answer. A ray of hope that the door hadn’t closed.

More days passed.

Nothing. Nada. Nope.

We’d all but given up.

Should we reach out, take action? Should we suggest we could do this, do that?

Nope. The answer was WAIT. Wait some more. So we waited.

When we were reaching our end in the patience department, in despair over the lack of results of any kind, I reached out to Hope*Writers friends for prayer. Nothing specific. Just a big, honest prayer request. Later that afternoon, the Hope*Writers hearty dose of prayers resulted in a delightful and surprising response.

YES! The answer was YES!

My husband was moving on to the next step.

How could this be? After weeks of waiting, we finally had an answer. The door hadn’t closed! God had answered our prayers.

Several days later, an awesome 1-hour 30-minute phone call was followed by more weeks of waiting.

Then there was a 1-hour 45-minute phone call.

Then a 1-hour phone call, perhaps the most important of all.

Everything was good. Everything was right. Everything was awesome.

Everything was proceeding. Everything was lining up. Everything was fitting together just so.

God was answering our prayers. He was directing the way. Yes, this all made perfect sense. Things were coming together just as we suspected God wanted for us, our family and our future.

Then there was waiting, waiting and more waiting.

I fasted. Two days.

I prayed like a mad woman, harder than I’d ever prayed before. My husband prayed like a mad man, harder than he’d ever prayed before.

We’ll go anywhere, we’ll do anything for you, God. If this is your will, please let this work for us, please open this door for us.

Yet again, we’d all but given up when my husband got the call. The call came in the middle of devotions, an answer from God Himself.

Come.

Come on out.

We want to see you. We want to meet you.

Elation, excitement and tears of joy ensued.

Within a few days, everything was arranged.

His ticket.

My ticket.

We’d fly, yes, we’d fly.

At this point, all the thoughts and plans were in full motion. I’m talking FULL. MOTION. All the what ifs, all the what thens? They’d all been considered. Everything had gone slow, slow, slow until that phone call, but for reasons left unsaid, this now needed to go not only fast on our end, but fast on their end. There was very good reason to believe this was actually going to happen. We had been patient. Slowly, but surely, everything was lining up perfectly. God had opened every door we’d walked through, including an invitation and flight to come out. This was most certainly nothing we could do on our own. It was absolutely, without a doubt, a faith journey. We were following, and God was leading.

I continued praying and began purging like a mad woman, just in case the answer was YES, which honestly at the time seemed like it was very possible. After 10, 15 trips to the thrift store in a desperate effort to purge STUFF as quickly as possible, I finally had to tell them lest I look like a weirdo, “It’s likely we’re going. It’s likely we’re leaving. We’re really close to moving.” I just kept dumping and dumping and dumping and it was all so incredibly freeing. It was becoming more and more clear. God was sending us. Finally, life was making perfect sense. We were GOING to do this as a couple. All I had to do was say YES to God, purge everything that had ever held me back, and just GO and follow Him. Yes, this made complete sense in my framework, my understanding of WHO God was and who God IS. Would I have ever imagined this for myself, that this could ACTUALLY happen? Nope, not in a million years. Would I have DREAMED this for myself, that I would ACTUALLY WANT this to happen? Yes, a million times, YES.

My calling merged with my husband’s calling? YES. 100% YES. Please God, take me there.

I’m ready to purge it all for the sake of your calling. Literally and figuratively. I’m willing to give it ALL.

So we flew.

We left the kids with proper care and we flew.

Two days.

Yes, for two full days, we dove FULL IN to God’s call.

FULL IN. Down to our bones. To the best of our ability. We were there. We were on it. We were surrendered. We were together. We were leaping and trusting that God was IN this, FOR us, ALL ABOUT this opportunity we would’ve never guessed could actually happen.

Only God. This was only God.

In that place of seeing where I was, having no idea how I got there, and being incredibly excited about where God might very well be bringing us, I felt peace. Deep peace. My whole life made perfect sense now. Every step added up to now.

I’m humbled to admit I went so far as to find us a home that first day. Well, maybe that’s dramatic and not quite true. I found us a couple of super solid neighborhoods we could actually afford and a whole lot of amazing neighbors who flagged me over as I drove by, chatted me up in their driveways, and offered sweet tea as they talked and rocked toddlers on their sides. I met girls my daughters’ ages and women I connected with instantly. I did Facetime with the kids, and with the most rare exuberance in my voice showed them the “amazing” neighborhoods we’d be able to live in. “Look, there are little kids riding scooters around by themselves!” “Look, there are two kids riding bikes!” “Look at how nice this neighborhood is! I seriously can’t believe this. You’ve gotta see this.”

We dined and laughed that night over hot buns with honey cinnamon butter, then returned to our not-so-humble home for the night, purposeful, beautiful noise filling the city streets around us.

The next morning, we woke early. It was time. Time to do our best. Time to step up and step out for God, for our future, for ourselves and for our children. 2 1/2 months ago, we’d started this journey. God brought us this far. Why in the world would we have journeyed this far, traveled this far, both literally and figuratively, for the door to close now? We had hope. A certain hope, for sure. But we weren’t arrogant idiots about it. This was NOT a sure thing. Never once did we believe this was a sure thing. We weren’t taking this opportunity for granted for one second. But things had most certainly been adding up. If things went well, there was only ONE MORE YES between us and this future. One more YES that was most definitely in the hands of God.

My husband got ready in the finest of wears. He was handsome, prepared, feeling his best. I dropped him off at the door. He told me to pray, so I prayed on and off all morning as I drove and explored the place we might call home before long.

I considered exploring new territory, but felt led to return to the place I found peace the night before. Great peace. Deep peace. Immeasurable peace. A place where country met city. A place where I was certain I could belong. A place that felt like home so quickly, so easily. A place that honestly, I might’ve been called to my whole life.

Yes, I know with all the logic of my brain that this is utter nonsense and crazy talk, but I haven’t found a place I want to be buried yet. This was most definitely a place I could see myself being buried, a place where the kids could come and know mama felt home here, mama felt complete peace here, mama felt right and good and was called to live and do life all the best of ways here.

So I drove back to that suburb and those neighborhoods to make sure. The opportunity to check things out was passing quickly. Our plane was set to depart in six hours, and if the answer to all of this was going to be a YES, my husband would be turning his life around quick and very quick. We’d need to make a lot of important decisions from a long distance. So I needed to know. I needed to have a sense that this could be right, that this was right. I had a sense. Yes, that morning, I had a deep sense that this could be right, that this WAS absolutely right.

I grabbed chicken, beans and coleslaw for lunch and drove back to the city. Drove around the loop 20, maybe 30 times, waiting for a “come and get me” text from my husband. It was taking a while. This thing was not wrapping up fast. More waiting. More driving the loop. More wondering what life would be like if all of this ended with a YES. After all, he’d sent me a message earlier saying everything was going “AWESOME” in caps.

Finally, after circling the loop way too many times, I parked and waited.

I opened my window, felt the gentle breeze, and noticed a bird perched on the branches above.

I sat for a good 20 minutes, just staring that bird down, waiting for the “come and get me” text.

More crazy talk, I know. But it never occurred to me until later that the bird wasn’t singing. He was just sitting there, letting the breeze blow him around as he waited to fly to his next destination.

Perhaps that’s been me.

Perhaps that’s been us.

Perhaps God’s wanted more from us.

Perhaps God’s wanted more FOR us.

Perhaps God wants us to sing.

Eight days later in the 11:00 am hour, we got an answer.

NO.

A resounding NO.

We were floored.

Astounded.

Taken aback.

Shocked.

Deeply saddened and disappointed.

There were tears. Then silence. Then more tears.

What could have gone wrong? How could we have come THIS far, prayed THAT much, waited THIS long, been so patient and hopeful and trusting and wholly surrendered, for the answer to be NO?

We had our story ALL WRONG.

We had it ALL WRONG.

All the ways we added it up over the course of 2 1/2 months for this one gigantic once-in-a-lifetime opportunity were flat out WRONG.

We thought God had called us. We thought it all made sense. We thought our callings were merging for the first time in nearly 19 years of marriage.

All we needed was for God to give us one more YES.

And instead, it was NO.

I grieved deeply.

Then anger emerged, which turned to crabbiness and lifelessness.

I didn’t know anything anymore.

I don’t know anything anymore.

One after another, questions poured out of my soul.

Can I trust my own gut?

Can I trust my own intuition?

Can I trust what I’ve PERCEIVED to be the Holy Spirit prompting me, leading me, working in and through me?

Have I heard God’s voice correctly?

Do I even know what God’s voice sounds like?

Maybe I thought I’ve been hearing God’s voice when in reality I haven’t been at all?

What if I thought I knew how to discern God’s voice from all the others, and really, I had no clue?

And what about prayer?

Perhaps I’ve gotten it ALL. WRONG.

Perhaps I’ve been ALL. WRONG.

Perhaps my spiritual side is lacking infinitely more than I thought it was.

Perhaps my perceptions have been WAY off.

Perhaps I don’t have the intimate relationship with God that I thought I did.

For CERTAIN, God is still good, even when things don’t go my way, even when things don’t turn out the way I thought He was planning. But perhaps, my definition of good, my definition of God was simply OFF, simply wrong, simply twisted into some saccharin, worldly version that simply isn’t true.

I thought I had it figured out at least a little bit. Now I’m not sure I have it figured out at all.

Then I asked the question of all questions, the question I’ve only asked one other time in my life. Can PEOPLE get in the way of GOD’S PLANS? I guess the answer is yes? But then again, no? Now I’m not certain at all. My philosophy, my theology is clearly lacking.

Needless to say, this experience led me into territory I’d never traveled before.

I don’t know anything. God knows everything. Anytime I think I have a grasp on life, a grasp of what might be happening, I should just surrender and say “Hey God, take the wheel, do what you want because honestly, I have no clue what’s best for me. Just let me live the story you want me to live.”

Trees blow in the wind. Flowers flourish in the summer sun. And my five-year-old daughter asks “How did all this stuff get in my fingers?” I tell her “God. God put it there. God made you.” I have no other words. Those are the things I know for sure. God made the wind. God made flowers. God made greens. God made my five year old and all the things inside her tiny little body. There’s a purpose for and behind it all.

God made me and He will not abandon me. God made my husband and He will not abandon my husband. God made my children and He will not abandon my children. When He leads us down long paths that seem righteous and right, He has the authority to turn us around and lead us straight back to where we came from.

God is mysterious. His ways are NOT our ways. He works in ways we cannot see, in ways we’re unable to perceive. He leads us down paths that don’t make sense. He gives us YES, YES, and YES, only to give us NO. We have no other choice but to trust Him, whether it’s a YES or a NO, whether it’s a YES and a NO. His purpose is to draw us closer, to make us more like Jesus.

Four weeks ago when we received the NO, I felt like I was standing in a room with no windows, no doors, no way out. I couldn’t believe the answer was NO after all that, and I didn’t have a clue as to what was next. Today, I feel like I’m standing still in an open field, just watching and waiting, saying “I don’t know anything anymore. I see you, God. I believe in Jesus. But I don’t understand where you’re going with this. Help me see. Help me trust you again. Help me trust myself again. Help me be who you want me to be. Help me die to myself. Help me see WHY we’re right back where we started. Help me see why you led us through all of that for a NO. Help me understand. Help me believe again. Help me wait for what’s next. Help me hope.”

And I think of a mama who lost her baby boy, a mother and writer who was killed in a house fire with her husband and two kids, an auntie whose 18-year-old nephew contracted the flu and ended up dead two weeks later, a friend whose long-awaited house deal fell through, the sweet baby girl who witnessed a shooting, the kids in Kenya who have gaping holes in their shoes, all the people standing in the middle of a field waiting for an answer, crying out to God, “We had our story all wrong. We acknowledge you. We see you blowing in the breeze, we see you in the flowers and the trees, we hear you singing your song, we know you’re here, but we’re waiting. We’re still waiting. Show us how to hope. Show us how to live. Show us how to be fully alive, even if, even still, even now.”

Let’s face it. The 2016 presidential race was brutal and divisive. While so many hoped that the election would put a stop to all the divisiveness, the election of Donald Trump seems to have caused an even greater divide within our great nation, the United States of America.

Will we heal?

Will we hear the other side?

What will it take to bridge the gap between us and them?

Questions loom and linger.

How will we move through and beyond?

Some are grieving. Some are angry. Some are numb now. Some just don’t understand.

Is our country safe anymore?

What will come of our world?

What will a Donald Trump presidency look like?

Will the protests subside, or will they go on for four or eight years?

Will we ever be able to cross the divide?

So many unknowns.

So many uncertainties.

There is no clear or right answer except to remember we are ONE nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for ALL.

So what do we do?

Where do we start?

Perhaps we need to step back in time.

This week, my offering to a world that’s in awe, a world that’s divided, a world that’s uncertain and in need comes from my 4-year-old daughter.

In the midst of my grief over what’s transpired during this deeply divisive presidential election, my four year old has shown me what it means to love and live, through and beyond the turmoil.

When asked who was running for president of the United States, my four year old was able to name Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. I think she would probably be able to name them if she was shown their faces. But that’s it. Nothing more. She knew their names and that they were running for president. I’m quite sure she doesn’t even know what President of the United States means. But one thing’s for sure. My four year old has taught me what it means to love and live, purely and simply, even when the world’s going mad.

Let’s learn. Let’s turn our ears towards the young. May we learn something profound, something our soul’s forgotten.

LESSON ON LOVING & LIVING #1: Find ways to compliment people and love on them even if you disagree with them.

This week, my 4-year old daughter wanted to write cards for her friends. She got out a piece of notebook paper and had me fold it into four. Then she got some post-it notes out. She wanted me to help her write notes to her friends, Sydney, Henry, Edry and Rylan, on the post-it notes. I wrote as she dictated. It was pure and simple. One sentence or two. That’s it. A compliment. A way to show her love to her friends and neighbors. Then she signed her name after each one.

Perhaps we can glean wisdom from a four year old’s simple and idealistic world.

Find ways compliment people and and love on them even if you disagree with them.

LESSON ON LOVING & LIVING #2: Surround yourself with diversity.

As I was driving to the gym with my daughter on Thursday, she randomly shared this story. “I have brown hair. My friend has white hair and a white face. My other friend has black hair and a brown face.”

“That is so awesome!” I replied exuberantly. “I’m so proud of you that you have all kinds of friends. It’s fun to have lots of different kind of friends, isn’t it?”

What was most notable about this conversation was that my daughter made that statement with NO judgement. It was a matter of fact. Pure and simple fact. She recognized that her friends were diverse, that they had different physical traits. But she didn’t place any judgement on those differences. There’s something refreshing about that to me. We can recognize differences without casting judgement.

It’s hard to admit, but it’s sometimes easiest to hang out with people who look, act and think like us. But hanging around a monolithic group of people who think, act, and behave EXACTLY like us  doesn’t do anything to expand our worldview. The more we’re able to surround ourselves with diversity or AT LEAST open ourselves up to seeing and hearing the other side, the more likely we’re able to expand and diversify our worldview. Diverse perspectives and worldviews are critical to bridging the great divide.

Perhaps we can glean wisdom from a four year old’s simple and idealistic world.

Surround yourself with diversity.

LESSON ON LOVING & LIVING #3: Create art.

This week, my 4-year-old daughter brought home oodles of art from preschool. Handmade cards with drawings. Colored pages with paper punches lining the sides. Red, purple and pink pieces of construction paper cut into mountains, hills and rectangles. I’ll be honest, I usually throw away a bunch of this stuff because a mom can’t keep everything or it’d lead to boxes upon boxes of memories. But I’m keeping every single one of my daughter’s art pieces from this week. They’ve been gems to me in a week of presidential, political and personal turmoil.

If you make any sort of art, you MUST continue creating during these days of uncertainty. The world desperately needs your art, your perspective, your unique way of expressing love and joy, despair and destitution, anger and peace. The way you see life, the way you express it through your art? It’s important. It’s noteworthy. It’s crucial and life saving. We must continue making art, even when it seems completely pointless. We must continue making art, even when it seems like everyone’s too busy to see it. We must continue making art, even when the world’s gone mad. Keep making art. Keep creating. Keep putting it out there. We need your art more than ever.

Sing. Dance. Paint. Write. Photograph. Collage. Decoupage. Knit. Crochet. Quilt. Sew. Garden. Decorate. Build. Woodwork. Mosaic. Make jewelry and pottery. Whatever it is you do to create art and beauty in this world, do it and keep doing it! We need art now more than ever.

Perhaps we can glean wisdom from a four year old’s simple and idealistic world.

Create art.

Bridge the great divide.

Before I left for my trip to Haiti in February 2014, I grabbed the ridiculously overpriced “Penny For Your Thoughts” journal my husband received at work somewhere along the way. We’d kept it safe in its original packaging on a shelf in our entryway closet for months. Perhaps we’d donate it to a silent auction. Perhaps we’d give it as a gift someday. After all, the price tag said something like $54. Even I, a lover of words, couldn’t imagine why ANY person would pay $54 for a journal. Yes, I grossly underestimated the worth of that journal. When I got to Haiti, I randomly scrawled notes here and there as the mission necessitated. Prayer requests from our two sponsored children. Info about another child we began sponsoring nine months later. An inspiring quote about Compassion International beneficiaries being “sleeping giants.” Notes here and there. As IF I was never going to use that journal again. As IF it was only good for its paper.

One month after I returned from Haiti, I opened that journal back up, turned to the first page, and began by writing insights I gleaned from rereading journals from my past. I was on a blogging break, and desperately needed to figure out where I’d been and where I was going. Nine months later, I stopped working as a speech-language pathologist to focus on writing and photography, and take advantage of time home with my children while they’re still somewhat young. Today, there’s only ONE blank page in that “A Penny For Your Thoughts” journal. I’ve carried it around everywhere, through everything, for the past 2 1/2 years. Who knew?!

I’ve adored that journal. It’s been my companion through days of transition, days of unknown, days of heartache and chaos, and days of dreaming. But the timing couldn’t be more perfect. It’s time for a new journal!

Knowing I was going to be purchasing a new journal soon, I took time to page through my “A Penny For Your Thoughts” journal last week. I’m compelled to share something significant I learned from rereading one of the pages.

Listen, and listen closely because this is profound.

Over the course of the past 4 1/2 years, I’ve learned to dream. I’ve learned to dream BIG DREAMS. 

In all honesty, it’s crossed my mind that I’ve gone mad, or that maybe I’m losing my mind bit by bit. But the truth is, I didn’t dream BIG enough. 

Yes, you heard me right.

I didn’t dream big enough.

The first quarter of that “Penny For Your Thoughts” journal is filled to the brim with dreaming. I allowed myself to go there. In fact, the ultimate purpose of those first pages was to put all my hopes and dreams down on paper. I looked back through the past, tried to piece together the bigger storyline of my life, and used that as a foundation to dream about what the second half of my life could look like. This was an intentional exercise. Nobody was judging me. Nobody was silently critiquing. I didn’t care if my dreams were totally out of line or totally achievable. I just wrote them down as they came to me. Yes, I allowed myself to dream big all over those pages.

Yet even in my grandest and freest state of dreaming, I didn’t dream big enough.

On one side of the journal page, I wrote down my “Big Picture” vision. It’s fairly vague to the naked eye, but still spot on. The vision I have for the second half of my life has never wavered.

Here’s the kicker. I didn’t dream big enough in the details.

On the other side of the journal page, I wrote down all the details of my dream as concisely as I could. There were 10 points. Keep in mind, I thought these were long-term goals, goals I could reach or see the “beginnings of…within the next 4-8 years” if everything went perfectly as planned. As of today, I have already achieved 5 out of 10 of those detailed dreams. I’m working on #6. And I was seriously close to achieving #7, but the outcome was largely out of my control.

Needless to say, reviewing my journal was an incredibly eye-opening exercise.

I didn’t dream big enough!

I didn’t dream big enough.

So what’s the point of sharing this with you today?

The likelihood is that none of us have ever DREAMED big enough! The likelihood is that none of us have ever BELIEVED enough.

So how do we move from disbelief to belief? How do we get from here to there? How do we move from today to tomorrow? How do we move purposefully and intentionally towards the ultimate vision we have for life? How do we fulfill our God-given purpose here on earth?

Take time.

Sit down.

Get quiet.

Listen to the still small voice.

Think long and hard about WHAT we love, HOW we can best help others, and WHY we’re here.

Dream.

Get quiet again.

Pray.

Dream even BIGGER.

Pray again.

Then mark it all down. Write it. Speak it. Share it. Remember it. Revise as needed. And don’t ever forget.

In the meantime, trust that God works ALL things together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.

There’s a reason we’re here. Let’s live out every detail, every dream we have for ourselves and best yet, every dream God has planned for us.

I don’t know about you, but I have some work to do. In the next three weeks, I’m going to purchase a new journal. I’m also going to buy a planner. My goal is to write down that vague, but spot on lifelong vision all over again, but this time, I’m dreaming WAY bigger about the details. I’m going over every area of my life, I’m getting still and praying over everything, and I’m not holding back. I’ve dreamed MANY dreams in the past 2 1/2 years that have never been documented anywhere. In the next three weeks, all those great big dreams are going to be written down. I don’t care if they’re crazy or impossible or if everyone would say “Whatever, that’s totally dreaming and never happening.” Then I’m going to take that planner and I’m going to map out my days more intentionally to ensure I’m prioritizing the things I want and need to prioritize.

I’m 40. But If I live as long as my grandfather, I could have another 56+ years of life on earth. It’s time to dig deep and dream bigger. There’s a reason I’m still here. There’s a reason you’re still here.

So how about you?

Do you need to dream a little?

Do you need to dream a little bigger?

Perhaps you need to sit still long enough to hear…

You’re here for a reason.

There’s more in store for you, beloved.

What will it be?

Have you ever let your gas tank run so low you could run out of gas at any moment, like the middle of nowhere or the middle of a ridiculously busy highway? Have you ever run low on cash or time, and tried to get away with just $5 or $10 in your gas tank to tie you over? Picture this. It’s nearing end of the month and you’re low on gas budget, so you put $10 in your tank to get you by. But the gas doesn’t get you to the end of the month like you thought it would, so you put in another $5 in hopes THAT will get you to the end of the month. But that $5 doesn’t quite do it either, so you put in ANOTHER $5. Finally, you made it to the end of the month! Phew! This method doesn’t work very well, does it? If you never fill your tank completely, you just keep running out of gas.

Yes, I’m ashamed to report that I’ve experienced these things first hand. I’m the person who tends to run low on gas. I’m the person who’s been stranded on the side of the road twice in the past five years. I’m the person who runs and goes and does until I’ve run myself near dry. I’m unhappy to report that this summer, I’ve run my tank the driest it’s been in a long, long time.

My tank started running dry on May 10, the day after my youngest child’s last day of preschool. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids. I love my baby girl. But the truth is, she’s a busy extrovert and loves being at preschool. I love my writing, photography editing, and catch all days at home while ALL three kids are in school. I refuse to believe this makes me a “bad mom.” It makes me a real mom, a mom who knows what her kids need for optimal functioning, a woman who loves her kids dearly, but also knows what she needs for optimal functioning.

Knowing summer was coming and it would be impossible to find writing time of any significance, I stopped working on my books at the end of April. I pushed out four blog posts in June and four blog posts in July, but only published one post in August prior to this one. I worked out once the week of July 4th, and once the week of July 11th. I haven’t worked out since. We’ve made it to some Sunday church services this summer, but not nearly as many as we do during the school year. I’ve been home full-time with three children for 10 weeks, and my youngest was home full-time four weeks before that. Needless to say, my alone time has been lacking. Let me remind you, I’m an introvert. I need a certain amount of time by myself to function properly.

If you know me personally, you know I’m sturdy and steady. My dad used to tell me to “get more excited.” My sister has mentioned that sometimes it annoys her that I’m so calm under pressure, that nothing seems to phase me. The truth is, while I might be sturdy and steady on the outside, I’m taking in EVERY. LITTLE. THING. on the inside. I’m highly sensitive. I notice everything. I feel everything. I internalize EVERYTHING. And I over process EVERYTHING in this wild and crazy brain of mine. If I don’t get time to do what I love on a regular basis- writing, photography, exercise, quiet time with God – I fizzle out. My tank starts emptying.

Unfortunately, this summer, my tank went dry right before my eyes. My tank ran SO DRY that it resulted in public meltdowns not once, but FOUR times over the course of one month.

June 25: Public Meltdown #1

We were at an out-of-town baseball tournament for my son, staying at a hotel for two nights, with baseball games running across three days. Lots of people. Lots of kids. Lots of socializing. Lots of noise. Lots of money being spent. Lots of games in the super hot sun. Lots of STUFF to haul everywhere. It all came crashing down when I made the trek back to the car because my son ran out of water and needed more. When I brought fresh, cold water bottles to my son, he didn’t thank me. In fact, he barely even acknowledged me. Coach noticed Cooper didn’t say thank you and prompted him to do so. I (quietly) lost it. Tears welled up. A few spilled out. Coach noticed my response and asked “Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Do we need to get you a hotel room and let you be by yourself for the night?” “I just need some time by myself,” I replied, “Thank you, though. It’s very kind of you to notice.” I powered up and watched the game. Later when we returned to the hotel room, my husband watched the kids for a couple hours so I could rest and gather myself. I’d crossed the line and there was no turning back until I filled up my tank a bit. Unfortunately, the emptying happened while we were at a hotel and weekend-long baseball tournament. Fortunately, those two hours filled me up enough to make it through the rest of the night. The next day was better, and the boys won first place in the tournament!

July 11: Public Meltdown #2

I had a “public” meltdown in front of my parents and my youngest child when there was a massive thunderstorm and the golf tournament in honor of my dad and his upcoming lung transplant was postponed. For some reason, the thunderstorms and postponement TRIGGERED deep emotion; I was mad at God more than I’d ever been in my life. No need to hash over the details; if you want to read about this totally out-of-character response, I blogged about it in this post. Perhaps I should have kept the experience private. I’m still not sure about that day OR the blog post, but one thing’s for sure. My tank was near empty AND I was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions stored up from many years. Not a good combination.

July 18: Public Meltdown #3

July 18th was the rescheduled golf tournament in honor of my dad. It was sunny and beautiful, the perfectly pleasant weather we expected the week prior. I brought my three kids to my parents’ house for Sunday afternoon, Monday and Tuesday so we’d be free to “do” the tournament in full fashion – every element, every aspect, all the socializing, helping and planning, executing and wrapping up we ever wanted to do. The only problem was that my tank was STILL near dry. I had no capacity to recognize that fact until I was 20 minutes into the golf tournament and realized my husband wasn’t along to support me. We decided he’d stay home and go into work, as he’d already taken the prior Monday off and had a boatload of work to get done. Truth was, I needed him at the tournament that day, and it never once occurred to me until it was too late. The tournament started at 1:00 p.m., just in time for my four year old to become weary and crabby. I was DAUGHTER of the golf tournament’s beneficiary, and was also the official PHOTOGRAPHER for the event, a role I volunteered for excitedly and whole-heartedly. But I was ALSO acting as a “single” mom of three that day….at a big event…at a golf course…where people expect there to be a certain level of peace and quiet. Let’s just say that by the time lunch came around at 3:00 p.m., I was already frazzled and overstimulated. The kids needed this and that, and I barely finished my plate of food. I’ve blanked out the finest of details, but basically I melted down right there at the table in the very busy clubhouse with my mom, my three kids, my mom’s long-time friend, and my parents’ lifelong friends. OVERSTIMULATED was the word. Simply TOO MUCH. Mom and friends sent me away to get a moment by myself. I took my youngest with me because why would I ever expect my mom to watch all three of my kids when she’s wife of the beneficiary and had plenty of guests with whom to connect?

July 18: Public Meltdown #4

I thought I made it through the worst of that golf tournament, but a couple hours later, I found my tank near empty all over again. This time, it happened on the porch of the clubhouse. A few sets of my parents’ married couple friends were at the tournament, a couple sets I hadn’t seen in a long time. At one point, it was just me, my 4-year-old daughter who was melting down and being uncooperative, and one set of my parents’ friends. I hadn’t seen them in 5, maybe 10 years. They were super nice and super friendly and trying to carry on a reasonable conversation, but I was supposed to be going out on a golf cart to relieve my uncle from hole 11 as he’d been there for hours without a bathroom break and without any lunch, and I was also responsible for my three kids. I hadn’t seen my dad in a long time. And yes, did I mention the lovely parents’ friends who just wanted to have a nice conversation with me, and they hadn’t a clue about the uncle who needed to be relieved or the three children who needed tending or the photography I was supposed to be taking or the meltdown I’d had earlier or the husband who wasn’t here to help me through. And yes, my youngest was freaking out and melting down right there on the porch in the middle of all of this. It was embarrassing and humiliating and made me feel like a fool, but I melted down too. Yep, that’s how low my tank was. They recognized it in a second. I tried to explain what must’ve seemed like the most ridiculous of reasons why I was acting like a blubbery mess, and they said “GO, go, we’ll take care of her. You go, cry if you need to, do what you need to do, but just go for a while.” I was an utter fool. Two meltdowns in one day. Honestly, I didn’t know I needed my husband there until it was way too late.

When your tank is EMPTY or NEAR EMPTY, you need to make every effort to conserve the fuel you have. You need to make every effort to fill that tank back up. You might be able to do it yourself AND you might need some help. It’s easy to think you might be going insane, that you’re finally LOSING IT once and for all. But remember you’re NOT going insane, you’re NOT losing it. Your tank is empty. You need a FILL. Period.

On July 19th, the day AFTER the fundraising golf tournament, my dad was placed on the national lung transplant registry. He was called with new lungs on July 22nd, had lung transplant surgery on July 23rd, and was discharged from the hospital at noon on August 6th. A series of unfortunate events led to an ambulance ride back to the hospital the morning of August 7th. Dad was admitted to the ICU, and finally discharged on August 14th.

So here I am.

With the exception of hitting a wall one week ago and having to hide in my room for three hours by myself that night, I haven’t had any significant public meltdowns for a month. Wahoo!

But this week, I’ve found myself breathing deeply and intentionally more than once. My tank isn’t empty, but it’s not terribly full either. If I had to estimate my tank’s fullness level, I’d say it’s hovering around 30-40%. Three days ago, I asked my husband to come home early and I went out for a few hours to grab a quick 20-minute dinner followed by a movie. Dinner was rushed and just okay. The movie was GLORIOUS. Absolutely GLORIOUS. My tank filled. A little more than it was before.

Yet the next afternoon, I felt my fuel level dropping again, so I told my near 14-year-old son he needed to watch his sister for a while because I needed a little break. I baked myself four tiny oatmeal cookies and drank iced watermelon Kool-Aid. I wrote for 90 minutes, then we went to the bank and got back-to-school haircuts for the girls. With a little time out and self-care, I made it out and through!

By the grace of God, I’ve kept enough gas in my tank to sustain me ONE DAY AT A TIME this month. Small things fill me and sustain me – a church service, a night at writing group, a few hours by myself, help with child care while I was at the hospital, three meals brought by three very thoughtful friends, a night of good sleep, a healthier choice at mealtime, a bottle of water, a cup of hot tea before bed, planning next steps for my children’s books, scheduling photo shoots, taking a deep breath. ONE DAY AT A TIME is all we really need if we’re honest with ourselves.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” – Matthew 6:34

This, too, shall pass. Tomorrow, we’ll be with family at my near 96-year-old grandpa’s auction sale. Next week, we’re taking a couple days to do a family staycation. In 2 1/2 weeks, my two oldest will be back to school, and I’m going to resume my regular workouts. A couple weeks after that, my youngest will be starting preschool three days a week, and I’ll be able to resume a semi-regular writing schedule. My parents are near and will be needing back-up care for my dad for at least another 2 1/2 months. But with school starting soon, there will be a lot more space, a lot more room to breathe.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. He will work ALL things together for our good. Empty tanks. Filled tanks. And everything in between.