A Church

I have lived my life within a church. From vbs to Sunday school to Lads to Leaders. From youth group to church camp to fireside devotionals. I have been surrounded by this God-ordained institution.

And the church that I attend now? An incredible blessing. That place, those people. It has truly changed my heart.

And last Sunday when I shared my story with my church, I saw a church that was alive. Raised hands, Amens, and Spirit-filled faces. What a blessing to share my story, when my story merged with theirs. I prayed for the story that has been written on my heart to reach one person. Just one heart. And God is so faithful. When we step out of the way, when we stop writing our own stories for ourselves, God does incredible things.

(I shared a version of my broken arms/broken heart story that has been posted in various forms on my blog. The version that I shared on Sunday is included at the bottom of this blog).

But I have also been surrounded by something else – by a body of believers. A cloud of witnesses. A church of friends as I like to call them. And oh, do I have a church.

I live my life within a church of friends. People who speak truth into my life. People whose hearts I know intimately and people who know my own heart just as well. My core group of friends who are so close to my heart that, I promise you, the Holy Spirit has connected our hearts with unbreakable bonds. They text me at the exact moment that I am doubting myself to tell me that I am beautiful and worthy. They call me on nights that I feel lonely to tell me that I am dearly loved. I come home from work on a really bad day to find a hand written letter in my mail box. Incredible. The reason why they are my church is not because I have spent more time with them than other friends (which might be true). It’s not because of the fun trips that we’ve had (which we have had) or the adventures we’ve been on together (which we have done) or the countless dinners we have shared around a table together (which happens every week). Those things make us friends. Best friends. But we have shared our lives and our hearts with each other. We have laid our hearts bare. We have allowed our struggles to become our stories and allowed those stories to speak Truth into each other’s lives. What a blessing my church of friends has been – to know that you are never walking on this journey alone. To know that you were brought into relationship for such a time as this. That’s what makes us more than friends - a church of friends.

Broken Arms, Broken Hearts

I’m a big time dreamer. I’m not just talking about goals and ambitions – that’s true too. But I’m a big time dreamer… in my sleep.

In the past couple of years I’ve developed a condition known as non-REM parasomnia. What happens is that my brain can no longer filter out what it should and should not be responding to when I’m asleep. This means that I do two things. I will repeat any normal, household, every day task in my sleep. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, getting dressed, taking a shower, moving furniture… just any really practical, functional item to be doing in your sleep.

But I do something else, too. I act out what it is that I’m doing in my dreams. My most notorious example of this happened a little over a year ago when I was asleep on my sister’s pull out couch at her home in Indiana. I had just fallen asleep when before I know it I’m on a raft in the middle of a raging river. I’m trying to survive the rapids when a black snake with glowing yellow eyes starts to get on my raft. I panic, but then look to my left and see another raft going upstream. I get on my hands and knees and count one two three. And I jump as hard as I can from one raft to the other.

And then I wake up on the floor.

Because in my dream when I am jumping raft to raft, in real life I jumped from my bed onto the floor.

I woke up the instant I hit the ground. I stood up and thought, “I can’t believe I jumped out of bed again.”

And then I thought, “I can’t move my arm.”

When I landed on the ground on my hands and knees all of my weight had gone onto my left arm and I actually ended up breaking the bone in my arm.

I had to have surgery the next day to repair the broken bone. I was really nervous because I had never had surgery or been put to sleep before. The doctor was great. He came in and went through his normal routine of “You’re fine. I do this all the time. Everything will be great.” But then he did the most important thing that happened to me that day. He bent down, looked me in the eye, and signed his name on my arm right where he was about to do surgery. It’s as if he were saying, “This arm? This broken one? It hurts so bad and I know it will hurt worse before it feels better, but it will feel better. I promise! I know this because arms are my thing. I fix broken arms and I make them just like new every single time. Your arm is broken now, but it will be healed. I know this because it has my name written all over it.”

This is beautiful to me because we are all broken in other ways too. Our hearts are broken from the loneliness or the shame or the eating disorder or the alcoholism or the consumerism or whatever it is that is taking up a part of our heart that Jesus is dying to fill. That Jesus did die to fill. And yes, we are a broken people, but our stories do not end in brokenness because we have a great Healer. A Healer who enters into our broken world in the form of a carpenter, a cross, a crucifixion, and an empty cave to offer us redemption, salvation, and healing. A God who looks down, sees our broken heart, and He signs His name on our hearts. And He says, “This heart? This broken one? It hurts so bad and I know it will hurt worse before it feels better, but it will get better. I promise! I know this because hearts are my thing. I fix broken hearts and I make them just like new every single time. Your heart is broken now, but it will be healed. I know this because it has my name written all over it.”

What Are You?

My latest weekend adventure was chaperoning my church’s middle school retreat. I am a Covenant Group leader for the 8^th grade girls, so it was great to go and spend more time with each of them! Weekends like that are the experiences that build incredible relationships. Those middle schoolers all have a very special place in my heart.

I hadn’t been on a middle school retreat since... well… since I was in middle school. It had been a long time since I had taken a cold shower with flip-flops on, sang around a campfire, and played games involving ‘dares’. I had forgotten just how fun and full of life middle schoolers are!

And I also had multiple conversations just like this one:

Are you a mom?

No.

You seem like a mom. Why aren’t you a mom?

Because I’m not married.

You seem like you are married. Why aren’t you married?

Because I want to be single right now and do my own thing.

Oh, so you are in college!!

No.

You aren’t in college and you aren’t married and you aren’t a mom? What ARE you?

I didn’t know what to say. I had a moment like the guy in this Chevy commercial.

I had a million things to say. Plenty of really great answers. My mind was racing in a million directions. I wanted to tell her that we are defined by so much more than the titles of "Wife", "Mother", and "Student". I wanted to tell her that there is no standard age for when you get married. I wanted to explain the importance of finding who you are before finding a husband. I wanted to tell her that the time between College and Husband is not No Man's Land (okay, well technically I guess there are no men), but it is probably going to be some of the best years of her life - just like it is for me. I wanted to tell her about all of the beauty that I see in the marriages around me from some of my dearest friends who were blessed to find their perfect partner early in life, but also the beauty in the strong, independent women who never settle and wait longer to find The One – because there is just as much beauty in the wait, too. I wanted to tell her that her story doesn’t begin with a significant other or with children – that it begins with herself. I wanted to look her in the eyes and challenge her that maybe if we searched for God the way that we are always searching for Mr. Right – in our churches and our universities and our careers and in our relationships – that our lives would be full of more Love than we could imagine and overflowing with all things Right.

What are you?

The question hit me like a ton of bricks a bride’s secondary bouquet. And I stood there with a blank expression on my face, just like Chevy dude, while my mind raced to the tune of Beyonce’s Single Ladies. The inquirer's middle school attention span did not allow for my wandering thoughts and she turned and walked away while I mumbled something vague like “A young professional...”.

Smooth.

Oh, but now I am ready. Next time, sweet girl. Next time you are getting a heart-to-heart.

The Greatest of These

It isn't fair. It isn't fair for people like my favorite tv personality, Robin Roberts, to be facing the health challenges of a lifetime - on top of losing her mother. For a best friend to lose someone way too young to cancer. And for another friend to lose a grandparent. And for another friend to lose her home to a hurricane.

These storms and heartaches and trials leave us broken and lost and can make us realize two things.  It can make us see just how unfair life is.  Or it can make us see just how great our hope and our God is. The heroes, the conquerors, the victorious ones - they are the ones that you will find saying “It’s just four walls with a bunch of things”. Or “We prayed for healing and we got exactly what we prayed for. Our sweet friend is healed because now she is Perfect and in a Perfect Place.” Or, as Robin Roberts quoted at her medical leave farewell on Good Morning America, "Life provides losses and heartbreak for all of us - but the greatest tragedy is to have the experience and miss the meaning."  

We have Faith in a God who is Good and Perfect and Able. And some day our Faith will be our sight.  We have Hope in a Life and a Beauty and a Kingdom. And our hope does not disappoint (Romans 5:5). And some day our hope will be fulfilled. And we have a love that is sustaining, full of Life, and purpose-giving. And the greatest of these is Love (1 Cor 13:13). Why? Because it is eternal. Some day our faith will become our sight and our hope will be fulfilled. Neither of these will exist in heaven. But our love? The reason why we were created – to be in a relationship of love with Him – it will exist forever.

And so, for now, we cling to our faith and our hope, but we live because of our love. Because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). Because when you come to know the God that He truly is, you can’t help but do anything other than love.

And we question. While He listens. And we wonder. While he whispers. And we hurt. While he heals. And we keep on loving. And he keeps on loving perfectly. He heals our wounds. And by his wounds we are healed.

So we notice the man who asks for money and we return grocery carts for the woman with four children and we take time to get lost in the wonder and imagination of our kids. We call our moms and dads just to say that we love them. We cancel plans to stay home and watch Andy Griffith with our children. We drive with our radios turned off and stay up just a little bit later to talk to our spouses and go out of our way to make sure that every single person whose fingerprints are on our hearts know that they are a part of us. We love a little stronger and look a little higher and pray a little louder. Because when we are shaken, we stand on a Solid Rock. And when our lives are falling apart, we are stripped down to the heart of who we are. And because Love lives in our hearts, Love is all that we have and all that we are.

We aren’t just brave. We are faithful. We aren’t just optimistic. We are hopeful. And we don’t simply become heroes. We become more than conquerors. Through him. That loved us. (Romans 8:37)

Surrounded

As I mentioned last month, I am a contributing blogger to Stir (the blog for my young professional's group at Otter Creek). Head on over and view my latest posting!

http://ocstir.wordpress.com/2012/08/28/surrounded/

My Sunshine

I’ve told you all about my experience with anesthesia when I broke my arm. I was as serious as ever and questioning whether or not I was even alive.  I was crazy and totally not fun. But this wasn’t my first experience with anesthesia, and fortunately my first experience was nothing like the second. When I was 14, I had my wisdom teeth taken out. When I came out of the surgery, I was silly.  Super silly. I (more athletic at the time) kept proclaiming things like, “I am NOT a cheerleader! Did you tell them I’m athletic?!?”. And then on the ride home and throughout my entire recovery process I insisted that my mother sing “You Are My Sunshine” over and over again to me. Why that song? I have no idea. But it started a trend and even after my quick recovery, that remained “our song” and has been sung countless times since. When I moved to East Hampton at 16 to be a summer nanny, I unpacked my suitcase on my first night there to find a stuffed bunny tucked in among my swimsuits and beach towels. I thought, “How did this get in my suitcase? What even is this?” As I picked it up, it began to sing. My homesick nervousness turned into a warm confidence as I listened to the lyrics of “You Are My Sunshine”, knowing that while I was out on my own, I was on my mom’s heart. And whenever we lived apart through my time at school and for various jobs, we would often text each other the standard, “I love and miss you!”. But in those special moments when that just didn’t feel like enough, our messages looked more like, “Look for the sun. You will find me in the sunshine.”

 With Mom at Loveless Cafe for her 4th of July Birthday Lunch

Okay, okay. That sounded really sappy. But isn’t it so true that the people that we love the most bring an incredible light into our lives? 

Super Blue Man 

 Lots of Family on the Fourth

 A Little Independence Day Croquet

 Ally dominating the game

Shooting off Model Rockets in the Field

 The kids watching the rockets

 Rocket Recovery from the very large trees

 A little family

 Dad and Ally with the old Farmall at Loveless

Ally's attempt at a Loveless Cafe ad. "Here, look! I'm posing with the logo on the front of my cup, just perfectly!"

 My girl friends and I at the 4th of July Bash

 Girl's Night - Lots of snacks, laughs, and nailpolish

It’s a light by which we see our love, our heart, our confidence, our security, and our family. A light worth fighting for.  A light as bright as fireworks on the fourth of July,

Downtown Nashville Fireworks Show

But a light treated with as much care as a flickering candle on a birthday cake - careful to not be blown out by the wind, but a light that instead marks the beginning of wishes and prayers.

Mom's traditional Striped Birthday Cake on the 4th, courtesy of my talented big sis

I adore all of these little lights in my life, these little bursts of sunshine.  And to me these beautiful people, these relationships, and these memories are all a reflection of True Light. A reflection of “The Light of all mankind. The light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:4-5. One of my most common prayers is for Light. For God’s Light to shine on this earth. For me to be a reflection of that Light. For His Light in my thoughts and my relationships and my future. For God to pour Light over my friends and my parents and my sisters and my family.

And His Light always shines. It’s the kind of Light that makes us happy when skies are gray. The Light of a Son that sings over us, “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.”

"You Are My Sunshine" from my hometown's bluegrass jam. There's nothing quite like a Small Town Saturday Night.

Peace Like A River

“Jesus, keep me near the cross. 

There a precious fountain

Free to all, a Healing stream

Flows from Calvary’s mountain.”

“Jesus Keep Me Near The Cross”, a song, full of words of promise and of hope and of Life have been running through my head since last Monday’s “Girl Group” Bible study. Through Thurch (our Sunday night small group which was formerly on Thursday nights. Church+Thursday=Thurch), I have met some of the strongest, most beautiful Christian girl friends that I have ever known. 

 Some of my Girl Group on our Girl's Night Out/In - Dinner in Hillsboro Village and Steel Magnolias on the couch

Recently the girls decided to do Beth Moore’s “Breaking Free” Bible study together. We have only been in the study for three weeks, but I already feel like we have grown and have been challenged and have been changed both as individuals and as a church of friends. As we share our lives with one another, it has been such a blessing to see the ways that God has taken our histories and turned them into His Stories.

Last week, Beth Moore referenced Isaiah 48:18 where the people of Israel are told that they could have peace like a river and righteousness like waves of the sea. When I think of peace, I always think of stillness and quiet and calm.

I think of a late evening walk to the pond.

I think of a sunset on the beach.

Waikiki Beach

I think of a life that is full of happiness and contentedness and little activity.

But as Beth Moore alluded, we aren’t promised peace like a pond. We are promised peace like a river.  A wild, rushing, ever-changing, rapidly flowing river of Living Water.  We aren’t promised a quiet, still righteousness.  We are promised righteousness as wild, but as steady as the waves of the sea that crash over us and leave us breathless for more of all things holy. We are promised a Healing stream that flows freely from Calvary. Our peace is found in the craziness. Our peace is found in the motion. Our peace is having a heart that rests in the promises of God.  A heart that, while ever changing and moving and growing and being challenged, is at rest in the hands of the One who made it. The One who gives Living Water to cleanse and heal and redeem us.

This past Thursday night at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital, my two hour volunteer shift was spent entirely with a tiny baby boy who spends his days and nights alone in a hospital crib.  His name was strung across his door in a precious way that looked as if the same banner may have been used as a decoration at his baby shower. The foot of his bed was lined with stuffed animals, several embroidered with “Jesus Loves Me” or “Bless this Little Lamb”. When I crept into his dark room to peer over into his crib to see if he was awake, I saw the most precious little baby boy, squirming around, trying to break free from his swaddle. There were IV poles and monitors and beeping machines all around and I was reminded that just about a year ago when I started volunteering, I would have been intimidated. I don’t have a medical background at all, so in the beginning, anything that beeped made me jump. Carrying a child and pulling an IV pole at the same time seemed near impossible. But time has healed many of those fears.  As volunteers, we are fortunate to not know the stories behind the children. We don’t know, medically, why the children are in the hospital. We don’t know social standings or family situations.  We have the blessed ability to walk into a room with no hesitations or pre-fabricated assumptions, armed with everything that we need to bring our own source of healing to the children and families in the hospital – a smile, two open arms, and a heart full of love and attention. And on Thursday night in a sterile, yet comfortable hospital room as I rocked a sweet, cuddly baby boy and sang the only song that could come to mind -“Jesus Keep Me Near The Cross” - for two solid hours, I felt the once-restless little boy fall into the comfort of the arms of someone that he did not know, but someone that he knew was Love. Arms that, when they hold you close, bring peace. There were nurses checking in and all sorts of hospital noises and occasional diaper changes and check-ups, but there was stillness. And while I thought that I was there to bring a form of healing to this sweet baby boy, God finally got the time alone with me that He has been waiting and asking for. Not two hours of small group talking or church going or service giving - all of which are incredibly blessed times and crucial to my spiritual journey. But that night, He got two hours alone. Just with me. Two hours of holding close a quiet heart in the midst of activity.  Two hours of allowing a wild and rushing river of peace and waves of righteousness wash over my heart.

It is my prayer for you that you will have a heart that is at peace. And a heart that is overwhelmed with waves of righteousness. A heart that is ever moving and changing and flowing with Living Water.

Where I'm From

Today at work I had a meeting with two sales reps. As my boss and I were talking about Nashville with these first time visitors, he asked a woman with a very thick accent, “Where are you from?”. I knew what he was asking. New England? Boston, maybe? Her reply was something like “Oh, I’m from Bank of America.” In our industry, many times people refer to themselves by the name of the company where they got their start. “Hi. I’m Bill. I work at Wells Fargo. I’m an old A.G. Edwards Guy.” In the moment I just quietly laughed to myself as she proceeded to tell us about her previous company, awkwardly filling a vacancy in our conversation that we had expected to fill with mindless banter about the Red Sox and cream pies. But it got me thinking, Where exactly am I from? I mean, yeah, I’m from Nashville. But I’m from so much more.

I’m from a small country church where potluck dinners can feed your soul.

I’m from two parents who gave me roots and taught me to dream big.

I’m from Times Square and the Grand Canyon and Chicago and Yellowstone and Waikiki Beach and Gulf Shores and Capitol Hill.

I’m from big birthday celebrations and handed-down holiday traditions.

I’m from catching lightning bugs at dusk and finding Roly Polies under rocks.

I’m from best friends who are like family and a family who are my best friends.

I’m from Romans chapter five and Luke chapter one.

I’m from honesty and bravery and courage and joy and confidence.

I’m from cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and nephews who teach me what love is.

I’m from people giving me chances and God giving me blessings.

I’m from Amazing Grace and VBS and youth group retreats.

I’m from a richly colored heritage and a bright future.

I’m from Hope.

I’m from white water rafting in Montana and surfing in Hawaii and skydiving in the Smokies and snorkeling in Kauai and inner-tubing in Percy Priest Lake and kayaking in the Potomac River.

I’m from my Granny’s hugs and my Pa’s eyes.

I’m from a farm in a tiny Tennessee town, a cozy house on Beach Lane, an apartment in Georgetown, a dorm room in Oklahoma City, and a condo in Nashville.

I’m from handmade quilts and homemade peach cobbler.

My Granny Quilt - made from my mom and aunt's old clothes

I’m from two big sisters who taught me how to curl my hair, paint my nails, style a Barbie, and live passionately.

I’m from a God who gave up everything to love me.

So yeah, I am a Southern Belle with pearls on my neck, a guitar in my living room, and an occasional drawl in my voice when I say ya’ll. But I’m from something so much more beautiful. I’m from people and places and experiences and love. And that is a beautiful place to call home.

Living in Light

What do we do when things go wrong? I’m not talking about the little things like losing every picture on my laptop, having my neighbor nearly blow up my car by hooking up jumper cables incorrectly, or getting a 24 hour stomach bug at work on one of the busiest days of the quarter. No. Those things seem big in the moment but can all be fixed by the excitement of a best friend announcing a pregnancy, spending time with my nephews (typically getting into trouble by our mothers for being too loud or too wild),

He's FIVE!

You can totally see the "Cheese" face here...

The best guys I know.

meeting one of my favorite authors at a Lipscomb event and chatting with him before the lecture,

 Donald Miller, Author of Blue Like Jazz and A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

and celebrating a one-year Friendiversary with a new best friend.

Mandy and I painting Mason Jars (thanks to Pinterest) on our Friendiversary

In fact, I’d like to just wrap all of that up together into one little package and just call it “January”.

I’m talking about the really big stuff. The stuff that hurts to talk about. The things that make us wonder about life and purpose.  The events that make us question “Why” and “How”. The things that leave us breathless and make us wonder how we can possibly get up and move on from here.  These parts of our lives are colored with hurt and loss and pain and betrayal.

We’ve all been there.  We have all been covered with darkness and in a place where nothing seems to help. Where words seem empty and hope seems distant and loneliness makes itself at home.

Let God in.

Let Him enter into your brokenness and questioning and trials and emotions. He will always meet you right where you are. Don’t try to assign purpose to your disasters. Don’t try to figure things out on your own. And don’t assume that you are alone. You are never left alone in your time of greatest need. You are held. Surround yourself in Him. In your church, your music, your relationships, your dialogue, your prayers. Allow your lost and wandering heart to be lost in Him.

We all have broken hearts that need Healing.  Our hearts are broken, not because of God’s absence in this world, but because we see just how much we need Him in this world.  

“Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light” – John 3:19

The Great Light came into the world to bring us healing and love and hope, but we were more comfortable in our blind, ignorant darkness. And this is still true.  It is easier to live in the darkness. UNTIL. Until you catch a glimpse of the Light. And when we finally turn our eyes to God's light, we realize how badly we want out. We see what we are missing. We see the mess that we are in. We see that the darkness holds only fear and insecurity and doubt.  And we see that the Light holds truth and healing and redemption.  You may be frustrated with where you are right now or longing to be in a new place. Allow healing for where your heart has been, but keep your heart pointed towards where you are going. Towards Light.

The truth is that God does not cause darkness to show His Light.  Instead He has chosen to bring His Light to a darkened world, His healing to our broken hearts, and His redemption to our wandering souls.  This is our desire. That we may honor Him with bright, whole, redeemed hearts. May He take up residence here, take over the places that we have held on to, and take hold of the parts of our soul that we still own.

And we know that Comfort and Healing seem impossible in these situations. But we have faith. And He is a God of the Impossible. He makes Beauty from Ashes. Every. Single. Time. He never fails us or leaves us or abandons our hearts. He holds us close. May our stories rest in His stillness and refuge and strength.

I also know this to be true: I can’t imagine going through the darkness on my own. If you don’t have a best friend who is rooted in faith and grounded by the Spirit, find someone. I have this pact with my best friend. I tell her everything. No matter how awkward it is, no matter how bad it makes me sound, no matter how long it takes for me to get it all out, she gets it all. And then? Then healing has room to make its way in.  When I open my heart and shed light on my struggles and pains, darkness flees. Sometimes it moves slowly, but it is always replaced by The Light. Healing and Light come to hearts that are open. We all need someone to carry us to Jesus when we can’t make it on our own. So keep talking. Keep asking. Keep questioning. But do it out loud. Let someone in. A Friend of God.  And in the thick of it, sometimes you will get tired of the emails and phone calls checking on you, sometimes you won’t want to answer questions, sometimes you will just want to be left alone and forgotten so that you can dwell in your own darkness for a while, and sometimes you will just want to disappear into your brokenness.  But those sometimes moments don’t compare to the always moments of always needing a friend, always needing someone to point you to God, and always needing help and love and courage.  No matter how hard you push or resist, I pray that you have a friend that won’t leave you there. Truthfully, as friends sometimes we will forget something important or say something to make everything worse, but by opening your heart, you are open to so much more than a friend who always wants to be there. You are open to a God who always is. You are never alone.

And when you are open to God, He will remind you over and over again that His love and redemption and Light is steady. Just like the drops of water that just started falling from a vent in my ceiling. Thank goodness tomorrow is February. We all need a new beginning. 

Make It or Break It

The Power of 21

As I sit on the couch eating a bowl of Rice Krispies and grapefruit juice for dinner for the umpteenth night in a row, I wonder if in fact we are not all creatures of habit.  

Dinner… Again. 

(Have I mentioned that I don’t like milk? I grew up putting orange juice in my cereal just like all of the other women in my family, but I have recently advanced to white grapefruit juice. Don’t say ‘Eww’ until you’ve tried it.)

And while some of our habits - like saying “I love you” when we hang up the phone – are best left alone, others – like persistent nail biting - are meant to be broken (thanks to mom’s trick of nail polish and mittens).

While internet scholars vary, the consensus is that a pattern of 21 repetitions make a habit. So here goes. I have a few habits to break, create, and reinstate.  Twenty-one days from now puts me perfectly at Halloween (which has no significance whatsoever, but who doesn’t think it will be fun to celebrate my victories with the one eyed, one horned flying purple people eater?? My point precisely.).

So here are my habit goals:

Journaling

I used to journal every single day. I started this habit as a teenager when I was a Summer Girl (nanny) in East Hampton. I knew that some day I would want to remember every detail of my experiences there, so I wrote everything down. Everything. Looking back, I don’t really care that I ate a bagel with strawberry cream cheese for breakfast three times in one week. But I do care that I ran into Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick on the streets of Sag Harbor. So even though I have to sort through the bed sheet ironing, umbrella holding, and breakfast pastry eating to get to the real memory gems, I love having a glimpse of myself in the past. 

My favorite journals, though, are the spiritual journals that I have kept over the years. It’s amazing to read back through the thoughts of a 14-year old Emily.  It leads to a realm somewhere between wishing that I was still that smart and realizing all that I’ve learned at the same time. Last year I made a resolution to journal every single day, and for the most part I succeeded.  This year? My Nephew Journal is still full of clean, crisp, empty pages just waiting for me to resolve to pick up my habits once again. That day is today. I pinky promise.

Next time I am searching for a bobby pin, remind me that I have one in the spine of my journal, please.

Volunteering

One of my favorite songs on the radio right now is “I Refuse” by Josh Wilson.  I continually recite this one particular line over and over in my head: “I refuse to sit around and wait for someone else to do what God has called me to do myself.” It is amazing to me that sometimes I don’t see the signs of what I am called to do until someone close to my heart points it out to me.  I made a resolution earlier this year to find a way to volunteer more regularly in the community.  I googled and searched and asked around for several weeks.  All the while, my cousin kept encouraging me to check out the Child Life department at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. Since my time at the Ronald McDonald House helping out families always leaves me wanting to be involved with the children, I knew that this would be a great fit. I filled out an application and the rest is history. I have completed 4 weeks so far and I already know that I am going to love this. As a Child Life Volunteer I spend one evening (two hours) each week at the hospital. The volunteers all rotate between positions, so some nights I will be hosting one of the four playrooms (the sibling playroom or the others divided by age groups: 0-4, 5-11, 13-18). This involves doing crafts, playing board games, free play, etc. Other nights I will be going room-to-room and spending time with the kids who can’t make it to the playroom for various reasons.  Whether this means making bracelets with a child who is in the hospital alone, giving a parent a break to go eat dinner, or discussing Justin Beiber with a teenager on isolation, I am hoping that my two small hours a week that would otherwise be spent in a way that suddenly seems entirely meaningless will change the hospital experience for these children.  Plus I get to wear this awesome blue vest.

It's Legit.

Vanderbilt Children's Hospital is an incredible place. If you have any free time in your week, consider spending a couple of hours with these kids. They are remarkable.

But working with children in a hospital isn’t for everyone. Find something that turns your heart. Those emotions are a God-given direction for you. Do you love cooking? Next time you are whipping up brownies, make a double batch and stop by the firehouse down the street to say thanks. Do you love reading? On your lunch break drop by a school in your community to read to a class. Are you a runner? Teach a young girl to have that same passion for health and fitness. Do your kids draw millions of pictures? Deliver them to the residents of the nursing home in your town. Make it a habit to change your world. You’ll find it is a habit worth having.

Random Habits:

Here are a few more things that I am going to do every day for the next 21 days:

Send a different friend a text just to tell them that I love them.

Find something in my world that is beautiful and capture it in a picture.

Take my vitamins.

Stop going to bed with my hair wet. It's totally irreversible the next morning.

Today begins my 21 Days of Habits. Join me. Make a promise to yourself to finally stop the bad habit, start the new one, or pick back up on a forgotten one. Let me know what you will commit to do for 21 days. We'll have a Halloween party to celebrate.

I Heart Music City.

I am a Music City Girl through and through. I can’t carry a tune (harmonizing and singing off key sound the same to me). I have limited music knowledge of anything before 1999 (The BeeGees sang what song???). And I rarely understand the actual words of songs (Macy Gray says “My world crumbles when you are not here” not “I blow bubbles when you are not here”. Who knew?) Nevertheless, I am a big fan of Christian and country music - especially when concerts and cowboy boots are involved. Music tells stories that I can’t tell. Songs open up doors to my heart that nothing / noone else can open. They trigger memories of parties and funerals and summers and proms. They open a floodgate of emotions of uncontrollable laughter and a broken heartedness and sorrow and summers (I’ve always thought “summer” should be an emotion, too). Part of why I love Nashville is that there is always a concert to go to and lots of great music on the radio and street corners.  This past week I went to two concerts – both incredible.

Grand Ole Opry

On Tuesday night I went to the Grand Ole Opry with my friend Mackenzie. We were backstage, so we got to see all of the dressing rooms and the singers prepping to go on stage. During the show, we stood on the stage and watched from the back. It was neat to see the difference between how everyone acts behind stage vs. on stage. They check their zippers. They make awkward conversation. They kiss their baby’s foreheads for good luck. They let out huge exhales when their performance is over. They are so real. We saw Larry Gatlin, Heidi Newfield, Little Jimmy Dickens, Trace Adkins, and Rascal Flatts.  All of them were great!  

Heidi Newfield with Larry Gatlin

 Trace Adkins

 Rascal Flatts

Rascal Flatts

Mackenzie, My Concert Buddy 

Standing Center Stage on the Original Circle

I don’t get star-struck very easily, but of course I was still very excited to see everyone.  My lack of being star-struck? That comes from embarrassing myself a few times.  When I was a teenager, I spent four summers in the Hamptons working as a summer nanny. Of course the Hamptons are just crawling with celebs. Of course I don’t easily recognize most of them. One time I was sent to the grocery store to pick up “2 hard cheeses, 2 soft cheeses, and a French baguette” for appetizers that evening. Growing up, the only differences that I ever knew about cheeses were “sliced” or “shredded”. So there I was in the grocery store (which conveniently offered valet parking), surrounded by all sorts of fancy cheeses.  I had already discerned that a brie and goat cheese should be considered “soft” but I was stuck on the hard cheeses. I remember picking up a huge chunk of cheese, turning to the blonde beside me, and saying “I’m so confused. Is this cheese hard or soft?” As the words are coming out, I realize that I am talking to none other than Pamela Anderson. About cheese. Asking her if the chunk of gouda in my hand is considered a hard cheese. Oh. My. Gosh. I explained to her what I was sent to get and she just looked at me, giggled a bit, asked to see what I had already picked, swapped out my selections for better options, and then sent me on my way. Another time I was chasing my kids on the beach using my best “scary beach monster” voice and acting somewhat ridiculous. I had noticed a woman talking to my boss. Her child ran up to join in on the fun, so I started chasing him, too.  The adults just watched and laughed. I mean, I was being pretty loud and crazy which is not the norm for me. My boss conveniently told me after the woman and her son left that I was making a fool of myself in front of Julianne Moore. Oh. My. Gosh. That broke me in pretty quickly. 

Natalie Grant

On Wednesday night I went to a women’s event at my friend’s church. Natalie Grant came and sang / gave her testimony to us. I knew as soon as I was invited that I just had to go. You see, Natalie Grant changed my life a few years ago. When I was having a hard time, one of my dearest friends introduced me to her song “In Better Hands”. For about 4 months, I literally listened to that song on repeat, along with “In Christ Alone”, in the car, on my ipod, on my alarm clock… constantly.  Those two songs pulled me out of darkness and gave me hope again.  I remember one distinct moment of exercising on a nature trail when Natalie’s song hit me in a way that it had never touched my heart before. In that moment, I was struck with the faithfulness of God and the thrill of hope. I was so overwhelmed that I could do nothing but to stop running (okay… walking) and just sit in the middle of the pavement and cry. Sometimes God puts songs in our lives that meet us right where we are and tells us exactly what we need to hear.  Of course Natalie sang that song on Wednesday night. It was gorgeous and emotional and I choked back the tears the entire time. And then, in a moment of “God is creating this moment right now just for me”, she sang In Christ Alone. As far as I know, she has never recorded this song. But she sang it for me, I am convinced. Someone must have told her I was attending.

Natalie talked about how in Jesus our passion meets our purpose. I know that I am destined to have a big purpose. I know that I am meant for something huge. I am grateful for every day that God prepares my heart and my mind for the things that he wants to do with me. I’m available. He knows that.

Let’s Be Real Here…

In the spirit of full disclosure, I am not always travelling and going to concerts. Sometimes I look absolutely ridiculous and do things like paint ceilings. I’m embarrassed, but I’m real. This is what I look like sometimes on the weekend. Yikes.

However, it was worth it. I have never seen porch ceilings or window frames shine so bright. That’s what I keep telling myself.