Sometimes Three Isn't a Crowd

Whenever LSU week arrives in the football season (the first week of November, after both teams have a bye), a picture from college finds its way onto my social media. I love this picture for a variety of reasons. It was taken at the Alabama-LSU game in 2011, which is exactly four years ago today. We had waited in line for six hours for our great seats, and we were optimistic for a big win at what was, undoubtedly, the biggest game of my college years. I'm posing with my two best friends, feet propped up on the bleachers, shakers hanging out of our boots. I'm not sure why we thought that particular moment was photoworthy, but it turned out quite cute.

The picture seemed to very accurately reflect each personality of this trio of friends. Becca, with her natural blond waves, expertly bending down to come to the level of her super short friends with a beaming smile. MK impeccably put together in tights and a halter, even after the long day in the sun. And me, a little more tomboy than the other two in my Mark Ingram jersey and hair falling in my face. We may have looked sweet then, but we spent the evening yelling and swearing and holding each other's hands during every third down.

This year, I was prompted to look at some other pictures of our three-woman wolf pack. This week is not only LSU week, but the week MK asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. The same day she called me, Becca finalized the details for me to order by dress for her wedding. Looking at pictures from our college days, I marveled not only at the changes, but the relationship anchors that will always stay the same. MK and I were known as the fun-sized twin pack. Running around in our petite, 5'0" frames, we laughed at the same jokes, giggled at the same cute guys, hotly debated the international political strife of the day, and always roomed together at Model UN conferences once we realized how easy it was to share clothes. Becca and I started as casual AIRC friends who somehow found ourselves drawn to each other whenever we were in the same room. We fell into complementing roles, me the obnoxious loud-mouth who would take charge, her the nurturing caregiver who would bake me cookies when I couldn't function and (lovingly) tel me to back-off when I got a little too intense.

I think the Lord put the three of us together because any one pairing wouldn't have worked out as well. MK and I look similar enough to be sisters, but often have drastically different opinions. We have promised to always be honest with one another, but when we disagree it can be really tough. Becca is the soft barrier who acts as a sounding board when we just need to step back and process the opinion the other has to offer. Becca and I are the opposite - sometimes far too similar. We have many of the same struggles and self-doubts. When you see the hardest parts of your life mirrored in your best friend, it's easy to run away. MK has always been right there, whispering (or shouting when necessary) encouragement after encouragement until we are ready to hold each other up again.

Becca and MK have their own story that is separate of me, but I have slipped in and out when needed. In on particular situation, I found myself in the hilarious role as peacemaker between them when a guy got involved. I was very out of my element, never the rational one, but they found their way back to each other like they always do.

When I met these two extraordinary women, I had no idea our lives would be so intertwined. They have seen the most important growth, the horrible stumbling blocks, and the brightest triumphs of my life. People often say friends are the family you choose, but I don't think we chose each other. I think we found each other, ending a search we didn't even know we were on. Living in three different states, we're not as close as we were living blocks from each other in college. But the test of real friendships are ones that grown to accommodate the distance. By the end of next year, we will all have been in each other's weddings. We were each other's first phone calls after getting engaged, and I'm sure we'll be the first call, text, smoke signal for everything exciting or tragic in our lives. And without a doubt, when the three of us are together, we'll find ourselves full of love and laughter.

Keep Calm and Carrier On.

Daughter, Your Faith Has Made You Well

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me. - 2 Corinthians 12:7-9

Pain. Exhaustion. Insomnia. Itchy skin. Sensitive stomach. Swollen joints. Foggy brain.

These are my "thorns in the flesh." They are wrapped in the word Fibromyalgia. It's a succinct word, but a messy diagnosis. Some people don't believe it exists. Most people have a hard time understanding it. I don't blame them, because I often don't understand it. But today is Fibromyalgia awareness day, so I want to take a minute to tell you about my thorns.

I have always been Type A (read: control freak). I want to control every detail of a project, every minute of a day, and every person I encounter. I am self sufficient to a fault, and terribly at hiding my frustration. It's easy to tell when I am irritated, angry, and looking down on those around me. Let me be very frank - this did not earn me a lot of friends over the years, and I have hurt people around me because I wanted to make them perfect. I thought I was a perfectly acceptable Holy Spirit.

The Lord has chased after me my whole life, but for many years I gave him only small pieces of myself - the parts that didn't require a lot of sacrifice. I clung to my control until it choked me, cutting me off from any happiness and causing deep seated anxiety and depression. Each time something happened in my life I couldn't control, the Lord pleaded with me to give him my burden, but I turned as far away as I could, desperate to keep my control.

At the end of my freshmen year of college, I was a wreck, and I started having back pain that kept me confined to the couch. After a couple of doctor's appointments, I sat in a pain management exam room and cried as a doctor read from a pamphlet that described every ache and pain I felt when stressed and called it Fibromyalgia.

You would think that would have been my wake up call. An incurable, barely treatable condition that responded strongly to emotional and mental stress - I should have thrown myself at the Lord's feet and given him all my burdens. But I didn't. For three years, I ran from the Lord and just got sicker.

At the end of my junior year, I was done. My best friend and I had a falling out, my other closest friends were all graduating, I was going back to Memphis to a very frustrating relationship with my parents.

I went to church with my parents early in the summer, and during the time of prayer after communion, I just remember feeling true anguish. I told the Lord that I was done. I was done feeling lonely, I was done hurting, physically and emotionally. I was just done. I poured my heart out to Him, and I felt an answer whispered in my ear.

Wait.

Wait? Wait for what? I didn't know. I was both frustrated and relieved. I didn't know what I was supposed to be waiting for, but a weight lifted off my chest. I didn't have to worry any more. The Lord was watching out for me, and He wanted me to wait.

That summer was a weird one. It was the first summer I was home for the full break since I'd left for college. I was working on an internship that I loved, but dealt with working 40 hours a week for the first time. But I kept surrendering myself to the Lord. It was hard to know what this meant, because I had never tried before, but I just kept asking the Lord to help me.

And he did. The Lord's grace was sufficient for me.

Slowly, I was able to start working out. Then, some of the harder relationships in my life healed. I had more energy. I was just happier. I started to feel confident in my future. It was gradual, slow progress, but I knew who it came from. It's hard to talk about this change in me because it was in the background, but I know why the Lord told me to wait. I needed Him before I needed anyone else. Then, at the end of the summer, the Lord did something drastic to get my full attention. He gave me my husband.

After a few months of finally freeing myself from carrying my own burdens and feeling the full love of the Lord, I could never go back. When I returned to Tuscaloosa, I was a different, happier person. Everyone noticed. EVERYONE. People who I had casual relationships with noticed how much happier and healthier I was, and I was glad to give it all to the Lord. Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I can run. I can lift weights. I can clean my home and decorate it to my heart's content. I play softball and kickball. I cuddle babies and chase after kids. I stand and walk all day at festivals and parties. I am active. I am healthy. I am happy. I am perfect in my weakness.

But I am not cured. I still hurt after long days on my feet and too much activity. I have a hard time getting out of bed some mornings, especially after storms. I cry from frustration when I can't do my own dishes on a particularly bad day. I get anxious about carrying and raising children and growing old with my husband as my body continues to betray me. But my life is still a profound miracle. The fact that I finished school, I hold a job, I keep myself active, and I smile everyday is a miracle. So many people pray for healing for me, and I ask them not to. Because anytime I think I can tackle life on my own, the Lord gives me a twinge in the ribs, or a numbness in my foot, or a tremor in my hand. My Fibromyalgia is a thorn in my side, and I am grateful for it. Like Paul, I will boast in my weakness. I am sick, but my Lord makes me well. If true healing is the Lord's will for me, I believe it'll come when I no longer require such a literal reminder that I am not in control. I long to be like the woman who knew if she touched the hem of Jesus' robe, she would no longer be sick. And Jesus rewarded her:

And He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your affliction." Mark 5:24 NASB

My faith in the Lord and confidence in His word has allowed Him to give me little miracles everyday. So I will continue to boast all the more gladly about my weakness.

P.S. I cannot go at this alone. I have an amazing support system that helps me tackle all the challenges life brings (a further reminder that I cannot have complete control). If you have someone in your life battling chronic illness, it can be hard to know how to help. Here are some things the people in my life do that make it all the more better:

1) Be patient. Some days, all I can think about and all I can talk about is my pain. This really isn't me looking for attention. Think about how you feel when you have a bad splinter or a really intense toothache - even when you get your mind on something else, the pain pulls you back! My family in particular is very patient. They let me be frustrated and listen when I just need to talk about it. They know that I try as hard as I can, so they treat my Fibromyalgia as just another piece of who I am.

2) Sometimes I don't know how to ask for help - but I appreciate the suggestions! I need help. A lot. It's hard for me to lift heavy things, stay on my feet for too long, or get myself up from low chairs or sitting on the floor. Sometimse there are a lot of problems at once, and I'm just not sure how to tackle the task. My husband is good about seeing the panic on my face and offering a way we can take on a task together. Or he discreetly offers a hand to help me out of a chair when I don't immediately pop up next to him. If you see us walking with his arm around me, there's a chance he's taking as much weight off my feet as possible. I really don't know where I'd be without him!

3) Let me help you! Since I first received my diagnosis, I have struggled with depression, specifically about feeling like I don't contribute to the world. It's hard to be the one who always asks for help, but doesn't have a lot to offer. A couple of years ago, I joined a Life Group at church with a bunch of other couples. We take care of each other, and I have been able to help others out! It means so much to take a meal to a family, help unpack boxes (Lord knows I can't move them), or hold babies while moms pack up the stroller. Some of the women in my class call me the baby whisperer, and they don't know that it warms my heart each time, because it gives me a role, a purpose. I contribute.

Thanks for reading, and soft hugs to all my Fibro friends out there! I know it's hard to fight every day, but try to rest in the Lord. He will make your burdens light!

Keep Calm and Carrier On

Hiking in El Paso for our first anniversary.

Watching and Learning

Oh yes! This is definitely a Mother's Day post. This will be quick by blog standards, but when I took to social media this morning, I couldn't think of a succinct way to express my feelings this Mother's Day.

So first:

This is the firecracker of woman who has sacrificed herself to raise three crazy children. It is amazing to think of everything she has given me, from sustaining life when my heart first started to beat to continuous practice of my first words to showing me how to be a woman of God in a world that fights so hard against it. People ask where I get my red hair, my sassiness, and my willingness to serve. I have to give that all back to her. My friends think I'm crazy when I offer to do their laundry or clean their floors when there's a new baby or a sick family member. But I've seen my mom do that and so much more for others. I never understood why people would seek my mom out and specifically ask for her prayer, but I've grown to know her as a great intercessor. One friend even had to ask her to slow down on her prayers for a healthy pregnancy because she ended up with twins! I very much enjoy how our relationship has grown and changed now that I am on my own, but in the same city. There are a lot of changes coming up in the next year, but I know my mom will always be a phone call away when I just need some help navigating adulthood.


Next:

The woman on the right is not a mother I anticipated, but one I am very grateful for. This is my husband's mother, and I find myself infinitely thankful for the man she raised. There are so many things I see in my husband that I know come straight from her. The Lord blessed her with four boys because he knew she would raise great men (and offer wonderful counsel to their wives). She has taught her boys to be loving and strong and seek after the Lord. I love having a mother-in-law that I can call to talk to about anything. If you're still in a time of singleness and praying for your future husband, I suggest you also pray for the woman who is teaching him how to love you.

Finally:

I have had the greatest time as a member of Life Group at Bellevue. Many of these women are mothers to sweet young children, and it has been an honor to walk alongside them while they are at the beginning of their motherhood journey. I did not know I could love other people's children so much until my friends starting having kids. It's overwhelming to watch how these women have grown into beautiful, strong, powerful mothers. They let me ask questions and cuddle their children, and I feel like I will be so much better of a mom because of them.


Thank you to all the moms who have impacted my life. It's not my time to be a mother yet, but I am excited for when the journey comes because I have been taught by the best.

The Mornings

This morning I'm sipping on coffee, reading, and watching some TV in a hotel bed. Last night, I watched two beautiful friends join their lives in marriage. We danced, we ate, we smiled, and we sent them off in the soft glow of sparklers.

As I have a slow morning in this hotel (with my disciplined husband grabbing a workout) I can't help but think about what this morning means to them. They're married! They are family. I very vividly remember the morning after our wedding. I was sweet and quiet, and a soft drizzle was falling. We were both exhausted, but excited to embark on our honeymoon. But mostly I remember how completely elated I was to finally have this amazing man as my husband.

We've not been married a year yet, so these memories are still relatively fresh. I hope I never lose them. I hope I always remember the joy I felt on my first day as a wife!

Married WithOUT Children

"You're next!"

"But babies are so great!"

"There's no need to wait!"

"You won't understand until you're a mom. You love your husband so much more."


This is going to be a very venting post. But I would like to get this out and hear other perspectives. My husband proposed to me Christmas of 2012, and we have been married for about 8 months now. I was 22 when we got married, and he was 25. At first, my friends thought I was crazy. Why would I want to settle down right after graduation? I hadn't known this guy long. Why didn't I wait for a little while longer? Why didn't we get to know each other more?

My answer: I'm not settling down. We don't need to wait. We knew we were being led by the Lord to marry one another, we were financially stable, and we were ready. Being married is definitely more difficult than I expected, but it also brings me so much joy; I am experiencing so much more love than I ever knew possible, and I know it's just going to increase.

But I'm not trying to have a baby. At all.

There is no "wait and see." There is no "whatever the Lord brings." The Lord made it very apparent to me that this was the man I was supposed to marry. He has given me no such leads that I need to have a child right now. In fact, if the Lord has shown me anything in the last year, it is that I am not ready to be a parent.

And I'd like to think that that is okay.

Don't get me wrong. I do not believe that the Lord is going to call me to be childless. I love children. Heck, I spend 8-10 hours a day with other people's teenagers. I love to rub pregnant bellies, talk about ultrasounds, snuggle babies, and coo at cute clothes. This weekend, I actually purchased two onsies - one for Tennessee and one for Alabama. They were at a booth for a street vendor, and I knew I'd never find something like them in a store. So I bought them, and I'm putting them in a box in my attic until the time comes. I look at my husband and wonder if our children will have his eyes and picture him playing with a giggling toddler. Heck, I've even picked out a couple of baby names.

But I'm still not ready to have a baby.

I'm afraid that the church, at least in the south, really pushes married people to procreate. Today was family day at our church, and the young married ministry took a tour of the family resource center in our building. There were resources for singles, engaged couples, couples considering children, expectant couples, couples with fertility issues, and couples considering adoption. But I didn't see anything for newlyweds. Or couples who are taking a few years to grow in their marriage and as people before they take on the responsibility for new life. Or couples who do not feel led to have children.

In our life group, we have some amazing men and women who are like us and not quite ready for kids. But the numbers are small, and we are the youngest. This leads me to believe that we will likely be the last men standing when it comes to having a family of two (three if you count the puppy). I'm just not sure where to turn for information about strengthening my marriage and making myself ready to be a mother and spiritual guide to my children. My husband and I had a rough conversation about a matter in our marriage the other day. Things worked out, but I have questions that need answering, and I'm not sure where to turn. I know all sorts of books and websites for dealing with infidelity and difficult children, but not run-of-the-mill we're still learning how to communicate our emotional needs to one another.

I do not have a lot of answers to my own questions or concerns because I feel like I lack so much knowledge. Maybe this will be my ministry one day when I have more marriage under my belt. But, until then, I'm wondering what other wives do to grow their marriage BEFORE children.

Please leave me comments, because I am generally interested! Do you and your husband/wife have to cope with the same pressure to have kids? How do you seek to grow spiritually before children? If you have kids, what do you wish you had done before them?

Keep Calm and Carrier On

P.S. When I have a child, he or she will have this.

A Send Off...

Internet, if you will humor me, I'd like to share this post. I have it written down in my journal, but 1) I'd like to have an internet copy; and 2) It's cathartic to share stuff like this when I'm grieving.

On March 21st, my dad called me to tell me that my grandpa had a stroke. The doctors had to perform brain surgery, but his body was just not strong enough to recover. After a hard couple of weeks, my mom and aunt decided to remove him from life support. He passed away early in the morning on April 3rd. He had been healthy and independent before this. In fact, when he realized he was having a stroke, he called his part time job to let them know that he wouldn't be making it in before calling an ambulance.

He was an amazing man with an outstanding legacy. I felt very led to speak at his funeral. This is not my most eloquent writing, produced after hours of thinking and a few minutes of scribbling in a hotel room. But it is raw, and exactly what I said.

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April 5th, 2014

When I was a little girl, there was no day more exciting than when we got to see mamaw and papaw. I normally didn't sleep the night before, and often made myself sick with anticipation. Mamaw was full of spirit and silliness and games. But Papaw, he was full of lessons. His first lesson: how to perfectly place the bird food and peanuts to attract birds and squirrels to the deck. He would tell me each name, from Blue Jays to Cardinals, and create stories for every squirrel. His next lesson: how to pull a baby tooth. He could tell when each of my teeth was ready to come out, and the tooth fairy always gave a little extra when he was in town. As I grow older, I decided I wanted to be a cook. Grandpa and I would talk often about Sarah Molten and Rachel Ray, and he taught me how to grow and prepare all of my own ingredients. I have abandoned most of my culinary aspirations, but I know how to perfectly grill corn, chop basil, and choose ripe tomatoes. Most know my grandpa had a temper, and though I hated to be on the receiving end of his criticism, I never felt more loved and protected than when he came to my defense. When I felt insecure about my freckles and pale skin, he'd sing me silly songs and remind me that I look so much like my mother and grandmother, two women he found exceedingly beautiful. When I went to college, he was proud of my education, but reminded me that knowing about the world was not the same as contributing to it. But it wasn't until I met my husband that I understood the lesson he had been teaching me my whole life. As I stood up and made my wedding vows, I realized I had seen the most perfect example of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health." My grandmother was a fierce force, and my grandpa loved every piece of her, even when she drove him crazy. When she got sick and didn't know who we were, he never abandoned her. Instead, he filled the house with pictures, called us to talk to her on every good day, and told her he loved her each night. I will be a very lucky woman if my husband looks at me the way my grandpa looked at my grandma until her last day. The last time I saw my grandpa was my wedding day. I didn't know it was the last time, but I will always treasure eating breakfast next to him, asking him if he thought grandma would like my dress, and watching him dance with my mom. When mom told me grandpa wasn't going to wake up, I thought his lessons were done; his time had passed. But Thursday, as we drove from Memphis, I learned the last lesson: It's never too late. You see, my grandpa did not attend church in his adult life. It wasn't until a few months ago, when an attractive woman invited him along, that he ventured in. On Thursday, we learned from the pastor of his church that he had accepted his salvation. Now, along with all the lessons he taught me, I get to live with the joy and hope that I will get to rejoice alongside my grandfather for all eternity. And really, no grief I feel now will ever penetrate that amazing promise. So thank you, papaw, for all the lessons, and I can't wait to see you again in heaven.
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Thank you so much for all the love and prayers. My family is still recovering from the sudden loss, but we can rest in the knowledge that he did not spend years, or even months, suffering and that we will all see him again.

Write On

Today I sat in a room for two and half hours monitoring my homeroom as they were administered their writing assessment. All of my students are taking this test this week, and they are, quite honestly, freaking out. My students have written a ton this year, but I honestly haven't spent as much time as I should helping them with the writing process (until recently). Honestly, I just want them to write. Next year, I plan to spend at least one day a week writing. Sometimes, it will be expository writing (like today's assessment) and they will receive really targeted feedback. But other times, they will write letters and poems and stories and anything that comes to mind. I am learning to love the written word.

I am someone who always has something to say. For those of you nodding your heads, don't worry, I annoy myself too. I used to have problems with depression and anxiety, so I have learned how to express what I am feeling verbally. But I know that not everyone is like this. My husband has really shown me the beauty of quiet (sometimes). Other times, I'm not really sure how to react. I know that he has thoughts and feelings, but he's just not in the mood to share them. Last night was one of those nights. We ended up joking about it right before bed, and I told him that I know he loves me even when he doesn't say it. I told him I even had evidence, then pulled this out of my nightstand:

It's the card that he wrote me the day of our wedding. I can guarantee that this will only ever be for my eyes. There is something powerful in looking back on his thoughts about me and our relationship right before I became his wife. It reminds me of how we felt that day, how excited we were to be married, and how much we have grown together since then. That is the power of the written word, my friends. So, even though I am going to spend the next three hours of my life grading samples of my students' writing, it's all worth it to encourage them to use the written word.

Have you written anything lately? You may say "I love you," everyday to your spouse or SigO, but have you written them a love letter? Have you dropped a note to your mom who took care of your sniffly nose even though you're a high-functioning college student? What about some words of encouragement to a co-worker? Try writing something to someone today. You never know, it might be a letter that person keeps forever!