Cried Out Eyes + Living Loved

It's late. My eyes are swollen and tired from not one, but two evenings spent crying. Not gonna lie, being a female doesn't particularly help this time of the month [I literally will sob over spilled milk], but you know what? I'm just tired. Tired of living unloved. Of not believing the Truth, of not claiming it. Of not living it. 

Have you been there? 

I have the very best women surrounding me in this season. I inherited sisters eight years ago and a sister was never something I had growing up. I have supportive parents. A prayer warrior of a mom. A loving husband. I even have a very large community of women here in this space, within Instagram and this blog, that I absolutely love and adore. So why then is my immediate reaction to conclude, "She doesn't love me." 

This afternoon I took a chance to share something vulnerable and immediately walked away from the computer in tears. I put words in their mouth, that never came from the person I contacted. I was convinced that I had made a mistake, that they thought I was silly or immature, and that surely they wouldn't love me as much after reading what I had to say. And then I was reminded of Lysa TerKeurst's words in Uninvited regarding the woman at the gym, "...obviously I don't know what went through her head, but it has me thinking about all the many times I assign thoughts to others that they never actually think. I hold them accountable to harsh judgements they never make. And I own a rejection from them they never gave me" (29). 

There were a few moments of silence, of no response, and suddenly a, 'Hey let me get back to you later!' and I was ready to hit the ground running. Except not really running. I sat. And cried. And felt panicked and at a loss. I hugged my husband as I choked on words, "I still can't handle some of my friendships losses, I can't believe that we don't hang out anymore. Why doesn't she want to be closer friends?!" And how all THAT baggage related to what I was presently going through--I have NO idea. Except that I do this often. It's a BIG reason I started seeing a counselor months ago, because deep down in my heart I knew that I was loved, and yet, I couldn't stop these negative thoughts. 

These negative thoughts should have zero place in my mind or heart. None. "You are a dearly loved sister, a dearly loved daughter to the mighty and kind KING," my brother's wife texted me recently. Is that hard for any of you to fully grasp, like it is for me? My counselor did some exercises with me and one of the methods we did was visually decorating a giant sign that said STOP. And any time I started to feel myself turn negative, or go down the irrational rabbit trail, I would say, "STOP, Ashley! This is NOT helping!" Sometimes, if I'm like really on it mentally and emotionally, that helps. But 75% of the time, truthfully it doesn't. 

Lysa said, "Live from abundant place that you are LOVED and you won't find yourself begging others for scraps of love." Ouch. (There's a reason I'm hosting a book talk for this book!) With every chapter I've been convicted and reminded of God's saving grace. Of how He loves me, calls me, encourages me to sit quietly at His feet. Or crying at His feet. However I am, He'll take me.

I, like you, live in a day and age where life is just hectic. Either we have kids to care for, rooms to pick up, meals to prep, exercise to be had, pictures to be posted, e-mails to respond to, stories to share, friends to hang out with, families to love on. Which all means, just how easily distracted are we? I want to be better at living more securely. I want to be able to do all of the above, but also when it gets hard and I'm sitting in my daughter's bedroom crying, of silencing myself at His feet. At feeling His love. I want to hear the words coming from the women in my life; from my parents, my husband, my own children, and to walk and LIVE that way:

Cherished.
Appreciated.
Valued. 
Loved.

Do you long for this too? Of dwelling in His trust that life doesn't have to be perfect; there can and will be conflict, moments of pause, friends who need to wait to respond. And that none of that means you are loved ANY less? I'm not sure how to help one another, other than maybe being one giant support group, but heck, maybe that's what we need? Anyone want to create a Facebook group for living loved? Ha. If you do, add me to it! But regardless, let's pray for one another, cheer each other on, and walk through this life together. Sister, you may be hundreds or thousands of miles away but I'm right here holding your hand.. Comment, e-mail, share with someone who needs this reminder today and please know; you are loved. 

ps: I was reminded after a *very* long phone call (aka cry fest) with my mom yesterday: the job will never be done. It will never be over. There will be days that we feel like we're put back together, our pieces picked up, like we're doing GREAT; and then we'll be left feeling unloved all over again and we will HAVE to remind ourself of the Truths from our Creator. Thanks, Mom. For always loving me, counseling me, and sharing a heart with me.

Chapter Three: Love is Enough

Before reading, I recommend that you catch up. [chapter one: here and chapter two: here]. Heck, you may be new here and have zero clue what we are writing about. So take a ten minute refresher and then c'mon in, chapter three has arrived! 

Within a matter of days, my heart was 100% Asa's. He worked early mornings at the coffee shop and between classes, I was working several random jobs. He would come over after finishing a shift and we would spend hours together doing life. I remember the long walks best of all...back before we had a rigid agenda. When we would daydream of the romantic families that lived inside those big, beautiful victorian homes--not really having a clue someday we too would be in a gorgeous and charming house of our own. I was planning a trip to Michigan pretty shortly after we met and I himmed and hawed with my mom about bringing him to meet them. Well, he came with me, (surprise, surprise), and then after that, he came to our Thanksgiving my brother was hosting in Nashville. There were a lot of moments where I fearfully tried to push Asa away. I loved him, completely and fully without a doubt, but that's what intimidated me. I wasn't trusting of men, especially after a very unfortunate work incident my freshman year; and yet, there was absolutely nothing untrustworthy about Asa. It's funny that looking back now, nine years later, I don't specifically remember the fights that I would pick with him, but I DO remember sitting outside my house in my car just stewing as he said,"If you want to break up, YOU have to end it. Because I am not going anywhere and I refuse to back out." As I write, I can so vividly see how God has used that same phrase in our marriage over these years. Remember, I choose you? Asa's been saying it from the beginning. 

The fall of 2007 will always be a magical memory for me. Something about love does that. Something about falling head over heels makes everything seem magical. We shared haunted houses, and long walks through neighborhoods dreaming of days to come. We went on romantic dates to the theater and learned how to be still with one another in coffee shops. We learned how to talk when there was nothing to say, and how sometimes the silence together said more than words ever could. October quickly became November.  It was no surprise to me that when she invited me to attend her families Thanksgiving in Nashville, that I jumped at the chance. I mean, turkey is turkey anywhere, and if I could eat alongside her, that made the turkey comma way better, right? But then, that sacred family holiday happened. Lights, and trees, and presents appearing everywhere. We found ourselves in an odd situation of wanting to celebrate together, but clinging so hard to the family we always knew. How could I skip my family Christmas…ever? I didn’t want to be away from the warm fire place, and crazy traditions that had defined the most magical of seasons my entire life. Ashley, being from Michigan set out to leave around the middle of December. We figured a break would be healthy, and that we would see each other after the holidays. We said our goodbyes, and she drove away.

Christmas was soon approaching and it was a different time in my household. There was some heartache that year amongst us and for the first time, my heart felt a piece of home was missing--even though I was there, back in Michigan. I knew that this piece was Asa, and it felt baffling that the holiday just didn't feel quite right without him. I was doing my best at home to be present; to love my parents well and laugh with my brothers. But emotionally, I was absent. I kept picturing Asa there in Kentucky, wondering what he was doing, who he was laughing with, how many hundred cups of coffee he had have. So when he called me Christmas night and told me of some huge news, I was beyond ecstatic. 

Christmas of 2007 was a good year in my family’s house. My siblings were all married, but still made a good effort to be there and to celebrate. My parent’s home was cozy and inviting. Mom is a bit of a nut for Christmas, and we had nine trees decorated all over the house. Christmas carols rang out over the home stereo, cookies and other goodies were constantly being baked or eaten. The door seemed to always be opening to friends and family. In a way, I can’t fully describe it; we were happy, healthy, blessed beyond measure, full of laughter and Christmas spirit, and yet somehow...I was sad. 

In the midst of all the family festivities, I knew Ashley was having a different experience in her home that year. And I knew that she too, needed something else for her heart to feel complete. I took a gamble that I was the missing piece, scraped what little money I had in savings, combined it with the money I got for the holiday, and I purchased a last minute, one way ticket, to Kalamazoo, Michigan for December 26th. It wasn’t Christmas, technically, but it was all I wanted. Love is interesting. I know how much money I had working at the coffee shop part time, so there is no way financially it made sense for me to buy this ticket. Not to mention once I had the ticket, I had no clue what I was going to live on once I got to Michigan, but I guess I didn’t care. Love isn’t logical. It never has been. Love requires action. It’s perhaps the strongest emotion we have, that can sustain us through so many ups and downs, because it can be so fleeting, it must be fought for and clinged too. I got on that airplane, on the 26th, and made it back to my love. That night we privately exchanged gifts in the upstairs room of her parents’ house. The same room just 7 months later I would get down on one knee and make sure forever with her would take place.

As soon as I saw Asa in the airport, I couldn't contain my joy. Walking towards me in a grey sweater and tattered jeans, I fell in love all over again. And while he spent time with me there at home, I would do that many times--fall in love with him that is. From the second he met my parents, there was something about all of them that just clicked. From the beginning, fall 2007, he just fit. He loved my brother Nathan well--reading books and making him laugh. And he and my other brother Sean also hit it off. My mom knew, my dad knew, I knew... and I realized it was only a matter of time before this guy asked me to marry him. Well, seven months later to be exact. Looking back, some things are fuzzy and others more clear, obviously bound to happen with time. But I remember SO clearly, Asa getting down on one knee in the exact same room we exchanged those Christmas gifts. I can still hear the emotional sob my dad accidentally let loose, and my mom downstairs loudly whispering, "Did you get a picture, Terry? Did you GET a picture?!" I immediately wanted to change our Facebook status (I am so lame, guys...) and I texted all of my friends. I have always been a woman who has doubted the good, and suddenly, there it was: the beautiful realization that I would never have a Christmas without this man. 

An odd thing happened the following year. December of 2008 we got married. Prior to the wedding, we set up our apartment, and as every good Glass should, our Christmas tree. I pray I never forget that ratty second hand tree from my mom, or that dark, dingy apartment which was all lit up with twinkling lights. I pray I never forget quietly watching Ashley hang the few ornaments we owned and the way she looked. I set there in awe of the blessing that was starting right there in that very moment. This was our first Christmas together, our first tree, our first everything…and I cried gigantic tears of joy because it was the first of so many more to come. The traditions we have as a family started that year, with a couple of poor kids, so in love with each other that family wasn’t enough, logic couldn’t prevail, without a clue as to what life was going to throw at them. We just knew, in that dark little apartment, among those twinkling lights, love would be enough.

One afternoon during wedding planning my mom called me. "The church can do the end of May 2009 or December 20th of this year," she said. We knew we wanted to get married before the New Year (I desperately needed in-state tuition at the University!!) and beyond that, we didn't want to 'play house' anymore. We wanted to live it. So December 20th it was. As we prepared our first apartment for the holiday and for us living in it together once married, I can still remember his eyes watching me. I was hanging old ornaments and the dogs were on the floor at my feet; in the midst of the lights around the tree I noticed that he was crying. I'll never ever forget the way he lovingly looked at me. As if his entire life, he had been waiting for this moment.

Flash forward a little and my most romantic memories live in that apartment. I reminisce with my friends often, about how we were poor and didn't care. Cheap Chinese takeout and Grey's Anatomy was our Thursday night date, and I loved every second. We laughed, we fought, we cried, we played and we loved. May we never forget the love that bound us together--the early beginnings, the simple traditions, and the legacy we long to build with our now children. 

Counting, Cookies, and Treadmill Fails

The first FULL week doing this whole SAHM thang and I think we made it!! So far I don't have a set plan or lessons that I want to do with the kids. With Pierson being 4 and Reese 3, [and only 15 months apart], it often looks like the 'work' I plan being too simple for him and taking a little bit longer for her. So I'm definitely learning and I'm learning the give and take of it all. Right now the solid thing we do each day is after (or during) breakfast, I let them pick a Bible story for me to read at the table. Then we talk about the people, what happened, and what that all means for their lives now.

We did a 'snowball counting' activity with cotton balls; sorting them on to the specific papers. Then we made a mitten craft and practiced cutting, coloring, and gluing pompoms on to the mittens. Pierson checked out a Magic School Bus book out from the library and he's been *obsessed* with reading it. It's all about how water gets from one place to another. It was his idea to start a 'chart' like the students do in the book, and I just love that his mind is spinning and creating so much fun stuff!

Thursday it was rainy and grey and SUPER dreary, so after our morning walk [we got out in between rain spells!] we baked tons of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies [recipe will be on here soon!] They are quite possibly the best ones I've made, and the kids of course loved tasting the dough [my favorite part.]

This month I am reading Present Over Perfect and am really enjoying it. While the kids [didn't] nap, I told myself to stop working, stop e-mailing, stop cleaning... and just read a chapter or two. And eat a few cookies of course. I am definitely enjoying this time home; it's a very different kind of tired for me though. Lots of people have asked how I'm adjusting. I love it, a lot, but I've noticed that come 8 o'clock bedtimes I feel maybe even *more* worn out than I did while teaching? I think because I've been with them since 8a.m. and have done laundry, emptied the dishwasher, done dishes, taken out the trash, cleaned up rooms, worked through time-outs, planned 'school' lessons, and amidst their night time wake-ups, it's just different! Oh, and I'm not face to face with other adults ALL day long so that whole socializing my entire life has desperately gone down a notch...I know you other SAHM know exactly what I mean and you're probably like, 'Duh, what'd you think you'd be doing?' Ha. Well, one week in and I feel ya, friends!

Now what you've REALLY been waiting for [if you follow me on Facebook or Instagram especially]..... my epic treadmill FAIL that happened at the gym last night. One of my brides works out at our gym and got me the footage. Yes, it did hurt, but yes, I am okay! [Thank God!] And this video was edited by my very concerned (kidding, but it's okay) brother Sean, who runs Hey World Productions in Nashville. Music people, check him outtttt, woot woot!

Mommy Put Me Down, AGAIN?!

January 7th of last year, I wrote a post titled, "Mommy Put Me Down," and my husband stumbled across it this week from his 'On this day' via Facebook. 

This is STILL going on. That is WAY too long, he said. I agree, I laughed. It's really kind of silly!

Those four words are ritualistic and haven't ceased for an entire YEAR. "Mommy put me down!" Well okay, they've expanded a little because both our kids have an excellent vocabulary. So it's more like, "Mom, are you going to put me down tonight?" or, "Mom, can you PLEASE put me down?" When it's one of their turns (we switch every night), they jokingly sneer at one another, "Ha ha, Mommy's going to put ME down tonight!!!!" 

What is this?!?!?!  

It's incredibly rare that my husband loses his temper in our household. But ME on the other hand, guys. I mean for crying out loud I literally told them yesterday morning in our mad chaos attempt to get out the door, "You guys are being JERKS right now, I don't want to hear another word!" [Nooooot a proud mothering moment right there, but hey, at least I didn't use the S word, maybe...??! Kidding, kidding!!]. 

But my point IS, is that my husband is a really awesome father. Not just a little bit awesome, a LOT awesome. And he really doesn't get nearly enough credit. 

With teacher hours, he is able to have time with our kids that a lot of parents in general, don't get. He's completely hands on with them, it's incredible to watch. And I'm the rule follower, the one who says, "Calm down, it's BED time! Don't get them all rowdy!" I guess I'm also the debbie downer in that sense then? But seriously! The laughter in our household is many thanks to him. He knows how to get us out of our funks, switch our bad moods, and inspires us to be positive. He's the guy who is determined to plan a big spring or summer camping trip; hiking, exploring, trying new things, getting out there. It's my kids' dad. 

Whenever the kids get sick, I'm always way too quick to remind him exactly what they "need." Comfy pillows, the puke pan nearby, all the medicines, essential oils, diffusers, humidifiers, blankets, waters, thermometer and temps taken often--but I don't have to do this. He literally runs the fort and has the same exact instincts that I do when it comes to our three and four-year olds. He knows by feeling their heads when they're running a 99° or higher temp. 

He's not absent, ever. More often than not I have photography gigs on weekends or after work; especially during wedding seasons! And it STILL usually is me who ends up "needing a break" because they wear me OUT like nothing I can even explain! I've never been certain HOW he can keep such a patient and level head, but he does. On a daily basis. And then here I am, calling my kids jerks. [Lord, forgive me!] 

But I think that though these days still look like our kids wanting me 99.9% of the time, that's largely due to their ages. And I know without a doubt that they adore their father. He's the one who "throws them high," turns on Just Dance in the living room, teaches them how to build the biggest Lego towers, fixes toys, and who by far, has the best singing voice. This stage of life is still very much 'mommy put me down,' but the kids are also crazy about their daddy. 

**How about you and your family? What does your husband do that you love, kids or not. Are there roles you switch off on (cooking, cleaning)? Is there something he's super helpful with? And if you're a mama, does this sound like you? One of my good friends Ashlee wrote a post called Velcro Baby and I just LOVED it; my daughter is glued to my HIP, y'all. And while it's sometimes frustrating, it's more so just really sweet because I still don't want to think about the day when my kids don't fit quite right on my hips and in my arms. Comment below, I'd love to hear from YOU!**

Here's a little flash back that we recently discovered: Pierson and his Daddy. A reminder of just how present my sweet husband is with our ever growing kiddos. [Even the 'I told you so' comment at the end has me swooning over him, ha ha!!]