A Thank You to 2020

Can we just take a moment, and bear with me, to thank 2020 for all the lessons it taught us??

For better or worse, it happened, Y’all. In January of 2020 there is no way we were considering a global pandemic that would literally shut the country DOWN just months later! Nearly 2 million deaths, an economic monstrosity, and on top of covid-19, the innumerable racial injustices and tension that broke hearts and families. 2020 was hard. It was full of adversity and it disrupted every single person’s life.

But within a year full of ALL of that, I am also eternally grateful for the things that I learned. As a wife, a mom, a teacher, a woman. Grace, authenticity, growth, humility, grit, determination, relationships, the importance of family, faith, hope, and how to be present—how about all of this just to name a few lessons?

I thank 2020 for teaching me so much. I thank it for allowing (forcing really) more time with my family and especially children, then ever before. My ‘time off’ four years ago (January-May 2016) wasn’t even filled with this much ‘togetherness.’ More time outdoors; walks and hikes, and the year that got me back into distance running.

In 2019 I didn’t think too much about a lot of things or maybe I should say, I didn’t appreciate them. Going into a bakery for a fresh donut, or sipping coffee in a coffee shop? What about hosting friends and family; gathering people into our home and fellowshipping—in person? Life without masks…seeing someone’s smile, or frown, or emotions, period. Not being fearful of someone coughing nearby or expecting the worst when they do. When viruses were simply viruses, not death sentences.

I began to find happiness in the simple things, more than ever before. As a 32-year old woman, I realized the very best things and the very best people are literally within these walls. (Okay, that’s not entirely true. They’re also at a barn thirty minutes away but you know what I mean.) We’ve always heard the phrase, “life is too short,” but now we can see so much (too much) proof of that. We live in a world of ‘go go go,’ and Asa and I have talked often about how weirdly thankful we are that we have HAD to slow WAY down. We haven’t been able to make plans every weekend. We couldn’t host, we couldn’t do date nights, and the kids haven’t had a sport to go to or be a part of in, um, forever. Will we be thankful when we get to welcome those beautiful things into our lives again? Absolutely! But let’s never forget how much more present we have been and how much more mindful too.

‘When life returns to normal,’ is a phrase I’ve heard a lot too. When will it ever be normal again? What is normal? Here’s my honest opinion. I don’t want life to return back to ‘normal.’ That’s like asking to go back in time and undoing all the beautiful things that we just learned and reaped. TRUTHS: I would love a world without masks. I would love a world where we don’t live in fear. I would love to have friends and family over for dinner and drinks without thinking twice about it. But the old normal we all had, was abnormal in so many ways. Perhaps in 2021 we learn to grieve the once normalcies we had and fight hard as a family and as humanity, to create a NEW normal.

As a believer of Christ, I believe every single day we are getting closer to meeting our Maker. Whether that’s when He comes back and returns to US, or when it’s our time to go; with that said, I also believe the Bible is the Word of God and that life will only continue to point to HIM. 2021 won’t bring magical ease. It won’t be a year of less pain or suffering. But do you know what I believe and hope for? That it will be a year we get to love EVEN more than we did in 2020. That we can open our arms and physically help and love those in need; and that we can lean on each other in big, AWESOME ways. And that we continue to spread the love of Jesus wherever our days may take us.

All of you have been seeking a New Year, and well, now it’s here. IT’S HERE! Please don’t take that lightly. And thank you, 2020, for the year of self-reflection, of gratitude, slow growth, and for the recharge to begin again.

The Christmas Blues: Do you Have Them Too?

It’s okay to not be okay. It’s a familiar feeling at times, as my kids are getting older...Christmas Eve comes (out of NOWHERE), and the day is generally sweet and magical. And then it’s gone. Christmas Day comes (even quicker) and the presents are opened, trash picked up, and the emptiness under the tree just stares at me. It’s not about the gifts (or the lack thereof), it’s just the reminder that the Holiday has come and gone, once again...and when it returns in a year, my kids will be even older, and things may be less magical. 

In the silence of our house on December 25th, with the kids and even my husband sound asleep...I look at the dark tree, and the fireplace that doesn’t have a fire blazing within it. (It needs to be cleaned from the day before, and our tree lights were on a timer that I didn’t feel like turning back on.) It was dark. It was quiet. And I sat there reflecting on the day. Could it have been better? Was I wrong to get the kids iPads when I already loathe screen time anyway? Did I keep my patience the best that I could? Did I share the gospel of Jesus WELL enough with my family? 

December 26th comes...I finally sleep in. My body apparently finally relaxed and I slept soundly until 10:30 in the morning. (Thank God for a husband who wakes earlier and who doesn’t mind his wife sleeping in…) I pour a cup of coffee and immediately just feel--OFF. Not mad, not sad, not angry, not happy, not anything, just off. I look around and while we’ve done a pretty great job at keeping clutter/messes to a minimum, I am even more frustrated by the clumps of Golden Retriever hair floating in the corners and (very few) dishes in the sink. I checked the temperatures outside often, wondering whether I should run outside or not...if I should go to the barn and ride, or not. Ultimately I decided to get into warm running attire and head out. I prayed my knee could handle it, that my lungs wouldn’t burn too much from the cold, and that I could do at least six miles. With the music in my ears, I took deep breaths and I took off. The pavement underneath me felt like a punching bag for my feet. With every mile, I felt lighter, and lighter, more accomplished, more okay. 

Half way through the run I paused on a bridge that overlooked a mostly frozen creek. I thanked God for my strength, for legs that can so far do this, and for loving me, even when I feel unlovable. The day has generally and still feels OFF for me. The run was great, I feel thankful to have gotten it done...but my brain is still trying to figure out what it’s thinking. I mean really; I can’t stop thinking about my businesses, what more I can do for them, about school or work starting back in a week, about motherhood and if I’m doing alright? 

This post is a conundrum post. I can’t explain how I’m feeling, not well anyway. So I guess the moral of it is that I feel like at least one person reading this may be feeling something similar, and I think it’s okay. It’s okay to have the Christmas Blues--that’s what I’m declaring this. The twinkly lights will soon be taken down, the tree put away, and while you may be wondering why that matters? I mean, you may not be a Christmas lover like me, so it might not seem like a huge deal. But it’s bigger than Christmas I think...I think it’s the letdown of the beautiful anticipation that December has been to me. And I’ve said it before...I’m struggling in this current season of motherhood and I am trying so hard to pray and trust and to find contentment in the stages that my children are in. 

I sit here and remember their first, second, third, fourth Christmases...when your son doesn’t come into the living room and say, “That’s from Target!” about his Santa gift...when their hands and wrists still had those baby dimples in them. When you were able to rock them in rocking chairs while you stared at the twinkly lights, thinking back then, maybe you were excited for them to be a bit older and bigger and to need you a little less. 

The Christmas Blues. Does this make sense? Mamas...can you feel this tonight? I’m hitting POST, and praying as I do. Tomorrow is a new day. New strength, new thoughts, new memories, new laughter, and more love. If you needed this post, will you let me know? Email me or comment below. I’d love to give you a virtual hug and be here in this walk of adulting and parenting with you. 

A Birthday Tribute to My Brother Nathan, and Asking for YOUR Help

I used to wonder if one day my brother would wake up and miraculously start talking. If he wouldn’t have any challenges walking or moving. If he would wake up one day and be a brand new person. As I take a moment to reflect on those wonders, it brings numerous different feelings up on the horizon of my sometimes fragile emotions.

Early on in dating, Asa once asked me what I thought about Heaven and what I looked forward to about it. I don’t remember word for word what I replied with, but I know I said something along the lines that I couldn’t wait to watch my brother run wild and free on the streets of gold. I can’t fathom, really. I can’t fathom my brother not being in pain, not having challenges, not having struggle after struggle health wise. But do you know what else I can’t fathom…? The amount of strength, grit, determination, will and JOY that he continues to have on a DAILY basis.

“How are you, Nate?” you can ask.

“Goo,” he will without a doubt respond, which is GOOD.

Since this is a place of transparency and because I haven’t shared much as a young woman of a special needs sibling, I also find it necessary to be real with you. When I was in the fourth grade, I remember going to bed angry. About what, I can’t remember—but I definitely was having lots of mixed emotions. I remember very, very vividly, imagining a world where Nathan didn’t exist. “I wonder what it would be like if he wasn’t here anymore,” I thought. I went to bed that way, and some time early in the morning, I heard my mom’s blood curdling scream. I heard her yelling, “SEAN!!!!!!" SEAN!!!!!!” at the top of her lungs. It was still dark out, I was SO confused, and I remember racing to the sound of her voice. I can remember seeing her on the phone, crying, speaking loudly and urgently, and Nathan on his bed, unresponsive. I didn’t know it at the time, but he had just had a Grand Mal Seizure.

I sprinted out of the room and basically ran psychotically around, and ended up in my mom’s room alone. I was sobbing. My brother Sean must have came in as I do remember him telling me to get it together. That may sound harsh, but I know that he was kind of being tugged too; as the middle child, he had different responsibilities. He needed to be strong for my parents and he needed to be strong for me, his baby sister. “I KILLED HIM!” I yelled at Sean. “I killed Nathan.”

That one memory seems to be eternally engrained in my mind and on my heart… I felt so strongly that it was my fault for picturing a life without Nathan! As my relationship with God grew and as I matured in my faith and as a person, I know that’s not how life works. It was a very horrendous, ironic incident that I had absolutely zero control over. But it still hurts to type out and also is humiliating admitting any of it.

You see, I CANNOT picture a life without my oldest brother, nor do I ever want to.

Nathan is who we have called our Energizer Bunny, forever. He has survived countless medical emergencies. He has beaten the odds time after time after time. “He won’t live past 18,” my parents have heard from doctors. “He has 1% chance of surviving this,” they’ve said. And here we are. Today he turns 38 years old. THIRTY-EIGHT. I and we don’t take his birthdays for granted. While Nathan is strong, he is also incredibly fragile. His bones don’t work they way they once did (and even then, they didn’t work great!!) He is battling several different health issues right now with insulin and glucose; he is scheduled to have oral surgery at the end of this month. There is so much more but I’d do a horrible job explaining it all so I don’t think I’ll try.

I write this to share a piece of my heart as his little kid sister…the baby of the family. Who couldn’t quite comprehend everything in my growing up years, and who may have struggled and battled trying to…but who as an adult and now mom myself…can’t really find the right words to use to describe just how MUCH I love him. Nathan is largely the reason for my faith in God. I believe he is the reason our family has stayed together. He is the reason Sean and I can dream BIG, GIANT dreams and why we keep fighting for them. He is why we all love each other SO much. He’s the reason for a lot of things and I just feel really, really blessed to be his sister.

One thing our family needs (and has needed for a long time now!) is an in home elevator for Nathan. Sean and I created a GoFundMe account for him over Thanksgiving and are pushing hard to reach this goal. Nathan’s mobility and health decreases every SINGLE year. My parents are in their sixties and take full care of him, but they have health challenges of their own. In order to safely use both floors in their home with Nathan, he sincerely needs this elevator. We are a little more than half way there, so I’m asking YOU, whoever you are and wherever you are reading this from: would you consider donating even $5? And would you please share his GoFundMe page on your social channels? You never know who will see it and be touched to give! Today is Nathan’s birthday—what an incredible gift to tell him that YOU helped!

I appreciate every single one of you who is reading this. Thank you for helping this blog be a safe space for me to write to you, and a place where I can share my heart. I feel very undeserving of my brother’s love, but gosh I am so thankful for it.

Happy birthday, Nathan Wayne! I and we love you SO incredibly much. We pray you have lots of energy today and that above all, you know how LOVED and inspirational you are!

This Mama's Walk Down Memory Lane: Are the Best and Most Magical Years Behind Us?

Well I just drastically found myself walking down the rabbit hole of memory lane… I’ve been here before. In a quiet house. Nothing but the sounds of wind blowing outside, the heater kicking on, the animals snoring, and in the midst of twinkly Christmas lights. The fire is crackling and my eyes are fuzzy from the long (but blessed) day I’ve had. I remember being here because the feelings of just wanting to write have graced me once more. Those days don’t come often…I just don’t make time for it like I used to. But before I crawl into bed beside my snoozing husband, I just want to write so that I don’t forget. Or so that when I do forget…I can come back and relive some of this life.

I launched this blog in 2015. Somehow five years have come and gone, and tonight as I sat in the silence I scrolled all the way down to my very first blog posts. In the middle I paused and read about our Humphrey and Elsa passing, and my heart hurts as I now write. One of the posts I also re-read was when our kids were two and three years old…in that post I described that season as magical and beautiful and how hard it was for me that the days were so fleeting. I was convinced that THOSE would be the best years I would experience….You may judge me just a little that right now, I kind of wonder if that I was right?

I’m not saying that I don’t love the stages that my kids are in NOW. They are seven and eight years old (HOW?!?) and oh my, you KNOW I love them each so dearly. But the last couple of years I will have these moments of aching for the days now behind us. New mamas reading this or expectant mamas…I used to want to punch people in the face when they told me to embrace the chaos that existed in those little years. How dare them tell me to EMBRACE the screaming and crying that often occurred when going out to eat or when pushing a shopping cart with each of them in it. Yet here I am…32-years old, wishing I had embraced those moments just a little bit tighter.

I did the best that I could have. You don’t know what you don’t know, especially when it comes to marriage and motherhood. You just DON’T! You excel, you succeed, you kick ass, and then often you also fail. Each day, you do the best you can with what you have, and you go to bed exhausted and you wake up wondering if you’re doing a good job. As I sit here, half way on my couch looking around our home…I miss the newborn days. I miss the toddler years. Heavens to Betsy, I actually MISS when they were each a threenager. Lately, their relationship with each other has been just plain tough. They fight. A lot. They bicker, they tattle, and I know I sound like I’m painting them into this awful corner of horrid children; that’s not my goal. And that’s not what I mean. But life lately is just different. They are so much bigger and maybe because they are only fifteen months apart, they simply struggle to merely get ALONG.

My relationship as their MOM, is different. I have noticed with Pierson especially, my sweet baby boy; he loves me now SO differently. His dad is his everything—his role model, his super hero, his biggest inspiration! And that is GREAT!! What a blessing that my kids have such a present and magnificent father! My big kid third grader sees me, his mama, a lot differently now compared to when he was tiny. Not to mention he’s more than half my height, and I can remember writing about being scared of the day when they’d each no longer fit in my arms. Well guess what? I can pick them up if I really need to, but y’all, they don’t FIT.

One of my sister in laws once told me she has loved every single stage of motherhood. I think I must have asked how she has handled them getting bigger and turning into the mini big kids that they are? And while I agree, I love every stage because I’m their MOM. I will always love them and celebrate them and I will forever cheer them on. But at the moment, I think I more so feel that this stage of motherhood kind of hurts? If I could turn back even a morsel of time, I wish we were in our old house, Jackson street near downtown Louisville—and that they would be tiny once again. Tiny enough to curl into my lap, that they needed to be rocked to sleep, that they needed ME because they didn’t yet have video games or Netflix or neighbor friends or other busy plans. Sounding selfish? Perhaps.

I want to make sure that I say this: my kids are amazing. They are beautiful and strong; they are intelligent and they love Jesus. And I KNOW they love each other…at the end of the day, they are generally asking if they can stay up late together and have sleepovers on each other’s floors. They are obedient and funny and their personalities are exploding as they figure out WHO they are. They still want ME to lie with them every single night, to tickle their backs and bellies and to sing a song or listen to one on Spotify…they hug me daily and tell me that they love me. They cheer ME on and support me on my many creative endeavors. They are GOOD kids.

Maybe it’s the twinkly lights and the silent house? Christmas is near and I often reminisce about those first few, where they were crawling or toddling around the tree. When life was crazy and chaotic, but at the same time…it felt a little simpler? It could also be the pandemic fatigue spurring on these feelings too, y’all know we can’t discount that we are TIRED people as a whole right now. I write all of this to say, no matter where your kids are in this season of life, no matter how big or small they are, no matter what YOU personally are feeling; let’s take a second (or some hours!!) and try to embrace their stages right NOW a little more. Are you up all night nursing and burping and wondering if you’ll ever sleep again? (You will.) Are you wondering how in the world your threenager is wearing you out SO damn much and anxiously awaiting for them to turn FOUR? (They will…and then they’ll turn five. And six. And seven. And eight…) See, this is a reminder for ME too…as I wonder if my seven and eight year old will ever need me again or if they’ll ever be the very best of friends. (Ashley…they will.)

Memory lane…it can be a beast to walk down can’t it? Here’s a quote I want to end on, my soul sister Jen Hatmaker said it in her book ‘Of Mess and Moxie:”

“Of course, in a hundred years, no one will remember any of us and our story will be lost in obscurity, but for us, for all these years when we were kids and then grown-ups, when you were young parents and then grandparents, this is the only story that ever mattered, and it was such a marvelous one. The best story I ever imagined.”

While I sit and remember, and as I remember the hardships and the blessings…I am incredibly thankful that this IS my story—and that I am their Mom.