Tuesday, October 29, 2013


When we grow up, we learn that life is grey. The right answer isn't always easy to find, and often, there is no right answer: just a small handful of choices, each with their own consequences.

I accepted this from the beginning in relation to parenthood. I know that even if I did everything "right" (as if that exists) it wouldn't matter, because if my child doesn't perceive my actions in the same manner that I intended them, then even the "right" actions could be wrong for my child. Are you with me? Rather than find this concept depressing or stressful, I find it freeing. It means that I can accept that my actions will at some point "screw my child up" in some way or another. It means I don't have to worry. I can parent according my convictions without worrying about every choice I make.

While I find it easy to accept the grey in regards to raising Violet, I have a harder time with it in other areas of life. Recently, we've found ourselves in the midst of financial turmoil. We've stressed over how we will pay our bills and feed our family and have gas in the car for Cameron to get back and forth to work. We've talked about him getting a second job (which is a bad idea right now since he's getting very little sleep working the night shift) and looked for other opportunities to earn money and reduce our bills. There is an "easy" solution to our financial woes: Cameron could go to work in the same industry he just left. The wrench comes in this: we need each other. Cameron and I NEED each other. DAILY. Violet NEEDS her daddy at home. We aren't the kind of couple who does well apart. We each make the other better, and without each other, we each become the worst versions of ourselves. The industry he just left required A LOT of travel. Too much. We can't go back to that.

You see, we have convictions about how our family ought to operate. For us, we need to be together. We need to see each other every day. We need time together regularly. We both believe it is best for all of us if I am a stay at home mom. How do we get it all? How do we manage to have family time AND enough money to pay the bills and feed our family? Enter the grey area.

We made choices that will effect our future. We are trusting that God has provided us the resources to make it through today and that He will continue to provide for us each day- even if that means walking into the future without knowing exactly how things will work out.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Try shining a light down by your foot in a dark room and see how far the light reaches. I can tell you. It's just far enough to take the next step.

That's enough for me.

Monday, October 7, 2013

It took this long

I am a writer. I'm 26 years old. I spent my elementary years at home filling journals with ridiculous stories (mostly about animals). I spent my middle school years filling journals with really bad poetry. I spent most of high school and college writing about my life and using it to learn to deal with my past and the things in life that have challenged me most.

Yet, until yesterday morning, I never once would have said that I am a writer. I didn't believe I was talented enough to even try out for the high school newspaper. While many teachers read my academic papers aloud while growing up, I never considered my work worthy of notice. I'm published in a few academic journals that I don't really consider worth much. When I was in high school I even had a member of the administration believe in my ability enough to contact a personal friend, and send samples of my writing to a professional who wrote back to me and offered assistance. Still, I never considered myself a writer.

I felt like I wasn't good enough. Why? Because there was always someone better. Because the words never came out of me as beautifully as they did for Charis Boylan, and I couldn't come up with metaphors like Charlotte Dunlap, and I wasn't as creative as Elise Barret. I've never kidded myself into believing that I might ever write anything of consequence.

Yesterday morning,, while I was at church sitting in a room full of people, I found myself wishing for just a moment that I could be the person I am on paper. That was when I realized that being a writer doesn't mean I'm the best, or even that I'm good. It doesn't require notoriety or even being published. It just means that I write. I write because it's the only way I can express myself in a way that feels true to who I am.

I'm overly verbose, I need every piece edited about a thousand times, and by the end, almost every sentence has to be rewritten, but I am a writer. I may never finish the book I've started, and even if I do, no one may ever read it. I am still a writer.

It feels good.

P.S. note I did not claim to be an editor :) I am fully aware of my MANY editorial mistakes in my posts