{January 23, 2002}

Two years ago I wrote a five-part series about how January changed me. Big things have happened in Januarys past and I want to share them again this year as a reminder that God moves. He works when we don't realize how things will come together.

It was an ordinary Wednesday morning. I was sleeping later than I can imagine now as a mother of two because it was my day off. As an editorial assistant at The Associated Press who took sports scores, wrote some stories and answered the phone, I worked 4 p.m. to midnight with Wednesdays and Sundays off.

My landline phone rang, waking me up. It was Greg, who was a law school student 77 miles away. {Side note: I did have a cell phone, but I used my landline more often. Greg didn't even have a cell phone, just for the record.}

We had known each other four years and had dated the majority of that time, which began the second semester of my college freshman year. We chatted for a few minutes before he said something was supposed to be delivered to my apartment and I should check to see if it was there.

I did. And, lucky me had a box of flowers waiting for me.

Of course, I discovered these flowers after I decided that even though Greg sounded weird on the phone that whatever he was talking about would be worth getting out of bed for.

Tulips are better than any alarm clock. That's for sure. So I picked up the box and was nearly back inside my apartment when Greg walked around the corner. He called me on a cell phone that he borrowed from his roommate. And he skipped class to bring me flowers, which I had to put in a blender because I didn't have a vase.

My heart was beating fast. Like it knew more than my head knew. I hugged Greg for a long time. I didn't say much. Plus, it was the morning, and I don't talk too much in the morning. Plus, I was pleasantly surprised Greg was there because we generally saw each other on Sundays at that point.

Then he gave me a handwritten letter. It was amazing, really.

As I write this I am overwhelmed by all that you mean to me. You are my best friend, the one who knows me better than any other, my confidante, and normally the only person I talk to when things are especially bad or good. I love you more than I knew a person could love another ...

He went on to talk about how our relationship had developed and God was in it with us.

And then I realized what was going on ...

Kristin, I want to be with you more than anything else. ... More than anything else, I want to look back on the life I've lived and rejoice because I got to spend it with my favorite person in the world. ...

I hurried through the last half, not truly retaining what I was reading but thankful that I could re-read the beautiful words later, when my heart wasn't racing. I noticed Greg was watching me.

And then he knelt down. I didn't give him time to say anything and hugged him. Leave it to my impatience to rush the moment. "Wait, I have something to ask," he said.

He asked me to marry him when I finally gave him room to breathe.

I said yes.

Well, actually I paused and just looked at him, fell more in love with him, and then said yes.

We spent that Wednesday together. It wasn't Christmas, which we had just celebrated. It wasn't Valentine's Day, when we went on our first date. It wasn't even Feb. 7, when we met four years earlier. No. It was Wednesday, Jan. 23.

And we were married 192 days later.
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This is the third in a five-part series about how various events in January changed my life. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

{God-sized Dreams} Buddies

I don't like the word buddy.

{Cringe}

Buddy makes me think about the time Greg didn't know the last names of some of his pick-up basketball playing friends. Greg's great uncle also has a dog named Buddy. Then there is an elf.

I call my son "buddy" sometimes. But then I cringe. Don't even get me started "bubby."

If someone asks, "Did your buddies come over Saturday?" I want to say, "No, my dearest friends who have sustained me and encouraged me and lived life with me came over." But, you know, my husband has taught me not all my responses have to be so dramatic.

In most cases, buddy seems to make relationships seem more superficial than that really are to me. I know people who choose this word don't feel the same. I know they aren't devaluing my relationships. They don't have that power and I'm certain that's not their intention anyway.

But then Holley Gerth asked me to partner with a God-sized Dream buddy from our Facebook group who I would encourage as another committed to be my cheerleader. She also reminded me of the importance of real-life dream buddies.

Honestly, I found myself giggling at her word choice. She has no idea that the word makes me laugh and cringe simultaneously. But her message was yet again one of truth and nudging accountability. {Side note: If you don't know her, dig into her blog or her books. She'll tell you things and make you think she's sitting across the table from you.}

Once I got done giggling and cringing, I truly appreciated Holley's encouragement and I jumped into the partnering thread in our Facebook group and started connecting with these new dreamer friends. Honestly, the possibility of these moments creating new friendships is one thing I adore about social media. Technology has changed our social culture and made our world smaller.

And now I have encouragement coming from Southaven, Mississippi, and Alabama's Gulf Coast. It's supposed to be I encourage one and one encourages to me. But I can already tell the encouragement is going to go both ways as I'm getting to know Tonya and Jessica. I'm excited to share dreams and stories. And we hope you join us.

While it's no official buddy system, I've also been blessed by another new dreamer friend who was willing to read my book draft. Her email was packed full of awesome ideas, several of which I plan to implement. Elizabeth Anne has encouraged me with her perspective, comments and critique. Plus, I'm pretty sure we'd be friends in real, everyday life anyway.

Then there is my everyday life, in which I'm blessed with dear friends who lives are intertwined with mine. I like it that way. In fact, I prefer it that way. I couldn't do life without them. They inspire me and sustain me and dream with me and plan with me and have conversations over lunch while our kids talk and sing louder than we'd ever choose with me. Jaclyn, Sarah, Jenn, and Courtney have copies of my rough draft in their hands. They're reading {or have read ...} part of my dream and our friendships found their ways into the pages. I don't want to call them buddies, but just this one I will. But only because what they are to me is what Holley was implying when she spoke of the importance of having a support system surrounding me.

On my application for Holley's Dream Team, I had to list a real-life dreamer buddy. I listed Holly. I introduced you to her dream earlier this month. I emailed telling her I wanted to label her as my "dream buddy." And her response pretty much summed up our friendship: I'll be your dream buddy for life.

So there it is. I'm surrounded my own personal dream team of buddies. Tomorrow I think I'll call them friends.

Who helps you chase your dreams and supports your moves to capture them?
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Tuesdays are God-sized Dream days around here and I'm linking this post along with many, many other dreamers on Holley Gerth's blog. You'll find encouragement, truth and community there. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Faster. Run. Hey Mama. Home. Count on Me. Mercy.

I told my daughter I like to listen to music while I run because it makes me run faster. Really, that's not true. Actually, the music drowns out my heavy breathing, so I mentally can ignore the fact I'm exhausted and panting as I feel my feet pounding into the pavement.

There have been three Saturdays in this new year, and my family has gone on morning runs all three of them. The park across the street from our house has a trail that is a three-tenths of a mile loop. This is how it's gone: Greg runs ahead. He's faster and he's choosing to run farther. I push Ben in the stroller. Cate runs and walks around the loop, offering high fives and asking questions as we each pass by her.

Plus I've been running a couple other times during the week. We've had weird winter weather around here, so a few mornings it was in the 60s. Other mornings it was in the 20s and I loaded the stroller and went to the track inside the basketball arena. Temperatures on the three Saturdays we've run outside were 38, 67 and 52. Welcome to Kentucky.

Greg decided to prepare for a 5K in at the beginning of March and another at the end of May. Of course, we're slightly competitive, so I told him I'd run too. I'm not sure what I was thinking. Honestly, I don't really like to run. I've gone through phases of running before {this past summer being the last time ..}, but never with an end goal in mind. I know 3.1 miles isn't very far for you runners in my life, but my shins and thighs feel like they may give out after the 1.5- and 2-mile runs I've done the past few weeks.

I'm going to keep trying. Greg is convinced if I continue pushing the stroller that when I find myself running without the stroller {I have no idea when that will actually be ...} then I'll be faster by default. I think I like pushing the stroller because it's a good excuse for not being very fast, which, honestly, I'm not, regardless of the 30-pound kid in tow. My goal is the run the 5K without stopping. And it would be nice if I didn't finish dead last.

Better crank up that music ...

"Hey Mama" by Mat Kearny
"Faster" by Matt Nathanson
"Brigher Than the Sun" by Colbie Caillat
"The Outsiders" by Needtobreathe
"Mercy" by Dave Matthews Band
"Some Nights" by Fun
"Slumber" by Needtobreathe
"Count on Me" by Mat Kearney
"Home" by Phillip Phillips
"The World's Greatest" by R. Kelly
"Closer to Love" by Mat Kearney
"Modern Love" by Matt Nathanson
"When We're Together" by Mark Harris
"Dynamite" by Taio Cruz
"Run" by Matt Nathanson

Do you have any tips for running for someone who really isn't a runner? What do you listen to so you'll get movin'?
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{January 20, 1996}

Two years ago I wrote a five-part series about how January changed me. Big things have happened in Januarys past and I want to share them again this year as a reminder that God moves. He works when we don't realize how things will come together.

'Cause I've been broken now I've been saved

I've learned to cry and I've learned how to pray

And I'm learning I'm learning even I can be changed

{From "Growing Young" by Rich Mullins}

God orchestrates moments. He weaves together people and places to reach our hearts. I knew God was working 17 years ago, but I didn't realize what it would mean.

That Saturday night sitting in the Flaget Center sanctuary on the first night of the Chrysalis weekend was a turning point. I had been having conversations with friends about spiritual things. I had been wondering about this life and the next. And I was led to Romans 8:28. All of those things intersected in my heart and mind as I wrote down on a tiny sheet of paper things I wanted to give up. Then I nailed them to a cross. Literally.

That perfectionism and desire to please people should remain on the cross because died there for me. I have often tried to regain control over the details of my life, but ultimately my faith goes back to that night, when I gave up control for the first time and God promised me He'd lead me step by step through life. Thankfully, His grace covers all my continued imperfections.

I can still hear "Growing Young" playing in the background while I felt God bring peace to my heart while I sat with my back against the sanctuary wall. But, really, I was no longer against a wall.

Because God does work for the good for those who love him.

I've had to figuratively nail some of those same things back to the cross through the years. And I've had to give up other struggles. But the God who met me that night when I was a 16-year-old girl searching for her identity continues to lead me through life. And I am continually reminded He's always watching down the road for me.
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This is the second in a five-part series about how various events in January changed my life. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Weekend Words

Break Free From Your Need to be Perfect :: I recently started reading Justin and Tricia Davis' blog. Their new book is on my to-read list, but until I do that I'm loving the encouragement, truth and freedom found in their online words. God is helping me transform my expectations and perceptions as I embrace imperfection.

The Difference Between Dreaming and Starting :: With all this God-sized dreaming going on, this was such a practical post for me from Jeff Goins. "This is life. The real deal. The main event. And there is no practice. Every day, you are participating, or not. You were made to create something — to build a family, write a song, found an organization. You weren’t born to simply follow orders. You were created to be creative — whether you’re an artist, plumber, or saleswoman. The legacy you leave hinges on your decision to start. To create something worth noticing."

Cultivating a Realistic Vision of Motherhood :: Life keeps us on our toes. We have to be ready and willing to adapt. Or like Sarah Mae said: "You've just got to come up with another meaning for ideal, and another meaning for beautiful."

Caring for the right thing at the right time :: Jason Gray wrote beautiful words here, but, more importantly, it's a beautiful message of grace, forgiveness, willingness to try again, and slowing down long enough to hear truth. If you don't listen to Jason Gray's music, I recommend that too.

Brave Moms Raise Brave Kids :: Jen Hatmaker makes me laugh and think. Once again, she's challenged me with those clever, honest words of hers. I think I'm a brave mom, but even so, raising a boy is the hardest thing I've ever experienced. And he's only 3.
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{Five Minute Friday} Cherished

For the first time I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, a link-up project at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog. This week the prompt was "Cherished ..." Here is what she says over there: We write because we love words and the relief it is to just write them without worrying if they’re just right or not. So we take five minutes on Friday and write like we used to finger paint. For joy in the process. No matter how messy the result.

Cherished makes me think about two things. Babies who grow into toddlers who grow into preschool who go to kindergarten. My mind doesn't go much past that because that's where I am with my oldest. "Cherished" also reminds me of moments.

Moments with my two kids. Moments that having these two kids have changed me. I'm never going to be the same person because of these two. Not just any two. These two. They were meant to be ours.

I want to cherish the way Ben goes from toddler ways to preschool ways in the blink of an eye. I want to cherish the way Cate wants me to help her get dressed in the morning then the later that evening wants to give herself a shower. She and I don't cherish the mornings like Daddy and Ben do. I want to cherish our meals around the table, where conversation is interrupted because Ben has to be reminded to sit down. Again. I want to cherish Cate capturing so many details in her stories. I want to cherish playing board games, which requires infinite amounts of patience for Ben but is a love language to Cate.

STOP. Man, that five minutes went by fast. 

Want to join us? Here are Lisa-Jo's rules: 1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking. 2. Link back here and invite others to join in. 3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. That is like the one rule we all really care about. For reals.

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{January 18, 2007}

Two years ago I wrote a five-part series about how January changed me. Big things have happened in Januarys past and I want to share them again this year as a reminder that God moves. He works when we don't realize how things will come together.

We had talked on the phone, but watching Cate's birth mom walk into the doctor's office waiting room was surreal. She was carrying our daughter inside her and she was thankful her daughter was going to have a family. And from that moment on, God lined up detail after detail to create our family.

Not only did we meet Cate's birth mom that day, but we also saw our daughter via ultrasound. We named her Catherine Anna, officially, on the drive home from Bloomington, Indiana.

I later learned that Catherine is also the birth mom's middle name. See, God was showing his faithfulness in all the details. This was His plan. This was meant to be.

I tried to soak in the details of this woman who made a brave, selfless decision. I liked talking to her during our lunches that would following pre-natal doctor's appointments over the next 15 weeks.

She's 5-foot-10 with a very sweet face. She's big-boned and beautiful. Her dark hair is mostly straight but seems to want to flip just a bit as it grows back. She likes pink, just look at her tennis shoes.

Growing up in a Midwest family, she's the youngest of three. She loves sports and plays card. Even though Christmas is her favorite holiday, she chooses to be outside in warm weather. She likes pizza, chocolate and root beer.

She could raise the baby growing inside, and truly I have no doubt she's be a fine mother. But she's 19. She thinks about going to medical school, or at least pursuing a career in the medical field. An occupational therapist, perhaps. Somehow she'll end up helping people. Maybe that's why she battled and survived Hodgkins disease. She wears a yellow Livestrong bracelet.

I only hope our baby has part of her determined spirit and positive attitude. And then I can say it's in the genes.
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This is the first in a five-part series about how various events in January changed my life. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Intentionally choosing imperfect

Life isn't perfect. Sometimes I need to venture outside that fenced pasture like the cow did. 

"In each of our stories, there is a moment when all of our priorities, all of our concerns, are shifted. Our identity begins to change with it. We sense a disparity between what is and what should be. There is a nagging feeling in our souls that something’s been wrong with the world for a while, and when this Moment happens, the feeling is no longer bearable. You no longer “fit” into the old world. You’ve seen too much, heard too many things, and you can’t go back to ordinary living."

{From "Wrecked for the Ordinary: A Manifesto for Misfits" by Jeff Goins}

There is a voice inside me that tells me I can't change my stubborn, perfectionist ways. It echoes as I go about my ordinary life. That's just who you are. Make the most of it. Well, yes, that's who I am.

But that's not all I have to be.

I serve a mighty God who believes in completing the work he began in us. Yes, I'm guessing I'll always find comfort in organizing my drawers, my dreams, and my family. But I don't always have to hold onto expectations that only set up disappointment. I can embrace grace and imperfections that are part of life and realize it's in these moments that God perfects me.

Perfects me as in the process by which I mature and grow and endure in my faith, only by God's grace, wisdom and love flowing through me.

Perfection for me is often wanting to control situations and reactions and details and interpretations and plans. It's about unreasonable expectations and thinking my way is the best way. This seeps into my marriage, my mothering, my friendships, my faith, my routine, and my housekeeping.

This is a message that God has been repeating through my heart. He's using my husband's quiet, steadfast love. Bloggers and authors keep writing words as if they're meant just for me. My kids remind me countless times daily, even though they don't intend to. "No More Perfect Moms" by Jill Savage arrived in my inbox when I needed it most. Prayers not meant for me speak to my heart. My friends and I share real life and I'm reminded how it's glorious even in the chaos that comes with our many small children. I hear songs that remind me to rest easy, rejoice in my new names, and trust in God's unfailing love.

I'm not willing to let perfectionism reign. Yes, it's part of me and letting go is painfully hard. I'm sure it will creep back in when I let my guard down. But I want to embrace imperfection, knowing full well the creator of the universe has the world -- including my family, my plans, and my relationships -- in his hands.

Ironically, I don't really have a specific plan for fighting perfectionism. But I do know doing so involves staying connected to the truth through God's word and continuing to live my life in community. I don't want to fit in the my self-made mold of a perfectionist. I need to venture outside the fenced pasture. I want to trust God to finish the work he's began when I became a new creation. The old is gone and needs to stay gone. The new needs to be evident. I want my decisions and reactions to be intentional.

And that voice inside me needs to hush so my ordinary can change and I can find way out of the pasture fence. Life is out there. And I'm ready, even if it means I may get some dirt on my feet.
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This is yet another post in an ongoing series about how God's teaching me to embrace imperfection. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

A {Sort of} Sick Day on a {Sort of} Snow Day

They're watching one of the countless "Land Before Time" sequels. 

Today my daughter's school {and several others in our county and neighboring counties} was canceled because of the freezing rain happening last night and assumed to happen this morning. The roads around my in-town house are fine. I'm guessing some back roads may not have been as clear.

I've also taken my daughter to the doctor today with some spots on her face that weren't healing. I know only from experience that they were likely impetigo, which is a symptom of strep throat. So, yes, for the second time in her little life, my daughter has strep throat with sores on her face being the only symptom. And, actually, this time her rapid strep test was negative but the nurse practitioner didn't believe it when she looked at Cate's throat. This is her fourth strep diagnosis {the three previous ones were all the fall/winter of 2010} and in only one of those four times did her throat actually hurt. So strange.

Even thought the roads aren't icy, it seems like a good day to spent at home and let some antibiotic battle a bacteria I barely knew was creeping in my daughter's body and life. We'll get enough doses in her that she can go to school tomorrow and not infect her friends.

I'm reminded this morning that we shouldn't interpret situations on our feelings and sometimes we have to trust our instincts. My daughter doesn't feel bad, but, still, something wasn't right in her and I trusted my instinct and took her to the pediatrician. Yes, I texted my nurse friend Courtney a picture of my daughter's face first thing this morning to get her opinion. Yes, I felt a little silly when I told the nurse I wanted to bring Cate in so someone could look at what I thought was impetigo on her face.

Likewise, the school principal had to trust her instincts while making a decision about today last night when surrounding school districts were calling off school because of the assumed bad weather that would make getting to school dangerous for some families. Cate goes to a small, private school, so these decisions are different than at large, multi-school districts. But the principal made a judgement based on the information she had and, I'm assuming, the instincts inside her.

And, truly, even though it doesn't all make sense looking out my front door, it's worked out for the best for us. Perhaps other families needed this day for some reason. There is no way to see everything happening around us, but we have to trust that all is indeed working together for the good.
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{God-sized dreams} One small thing at a time

"God gave us the ability to take action because he wants us to freely move forward rather than him forcing our steps. ... God can handle the big. When you start out, it's okay for your part to simply be the small."

{Holley Gerth in The "Do What You Can" Plan}

I surprise myself sometimes with how satisfied I am with my ordinary life. I stay at home {well, you know what I mean ...} with two kids. My season of motherhood changed some when my daughter started kindergarten five months ago and my son started preschool at the same time, which was a year earlier than I had planned to send him. Even on the hard days when the questions are endless and I wish my 3-year-old boy noticed his dirty diapers and cared about the potty, I wouldn't trade this life.

Yes, that surprises me sometimes. This isn't what I planned for myself.

But it's here, in this surprise place of motherhood that I've gotten to know God in a way I hadn't experienced before, realized what I value most, built friendships that have sustained me, and learned big things happen in small moments.

And it's here I've met my God-sized dreams and mission: I believe God has created and called me to communicate stories from my own life and others' lives for families to know God as the author and creator of every detail through writing, promoting and serving. 

The asterisk that goes with my mission statement is I want to serve my family first. I want to be a wife and mother before I'm a writer, creator, and promoter.

Yet, still, while serving my family this week, I've still managed to hear God encourage my dreams and give me opportunities to take small steps when I wasn't changing diapers, packing lunches, making dinner, grocery shopping, going to a doctor's appointment, driving carpool, and running errands. It was in these ordinary moments that I was reminded dreams will get derailed if I don't act -- even in small ways -- now because the time will never be perfect. I can always come up with reasons to wait. But ignoring God's nudges is no way to spend my time.

On that note, I heard Mat Kearney's "Never Be Ready" on the radio this week. See, I'm telling you, God is in the details: We've got our fee on the wire, talking 'bout flying/Maybe we're diving in over our heads/Scared of what I'm feeling/Staring at the ceiling here tonight/Come on lay down these arms, all our best defenses/We're taking our chances here on the run/The fear is an anchor, time is a stranger/Love isn't borrowed, we aren't promised tomorrow/We'll never be ready if we keep waiting/For the perfect time to come/Won't be steady, we'll never be ready {From "Never Be Ready" by Mat Kearney}

Take a listen ..

The Dreams {Updated}

Last week I shared my dreams and what I was doing to work toward them. Just moments after publishing that list, I acted on a couple opportunities to tell a couple of my own stories as guest blog posts on two different websites. I haven't heard if my words were approved, but I still felt the reassurance that God has my storytelling under control, just like he does every other details of my life. 

{The Book}

In the past week, I've also texted with my best friend about the rough draft of my book and emailed my with stranger critique partner, who had fabulous ideas I plan to implement. My mom also gave the concept her stamp of approval. 

{KHT Promotions}

Even though I had already created a Facebook page for my on-the-side business, I shared it with friends last week and had several "likes" and even a couple messages of encouragement. I also began working on a project that involves marketing a vacation lake rental that isn't ours. If you're interested in knowing more about my freelance business or supporting this dream, you can "like" KHT Promotions on Facebook.

How is God moving in your dreams? What steps are you taking to follow him?

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Tuesdays are God-sized Dream days around here and I'm linking this post along with many, many other dreamers on Holley Gerth's blog. You'll find encouragement, truth and community there. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Giving God a chance to perfect the story

I was almost ready for church this morning when I heard my kids picking on each other. The arguments diffused as quickly as they started, and then I noticed a little chair pulled up close to the kitchen counter. The evidence that my 3-year-old boy had tried to reach markers he wasn't supposed to have irritated me.

Then as he walked toward me talking about wanting to color, I noticed him sticking the eraser end of a pencil in his ear. I was irritated some more, but I tried to hide it. I told him he wasn't using coloring utensils right, but he could find a book to take to church. He returned a few minutes later with a book. And then he stuck it in my mouth. I asked him in a too-frustrated tone to take the book out of his mouth. He didn't. So I yelled about how I wished he'd listen.

My husband tried to tell me to chill out. Of course, that annoyed me too. My mood and I angrily picked up some toys I thought my son should have already taken back to his room.

I knew in that emotional moment I should have showed more grace, spoken softer, loved more, moved more slowly, and remembered kids will be imperfect kids. My imperfections were shining through oh-so brightly, yet I was expecting perfection from my boy who still depends on me so much for guidance and assistance. 

All the while, it was time to leave for church, so I started to corral the kids in the mini van. {I say this like we have a large brood. Nope. Just two. Yet I sometimes still feel like I'm herding cats.} But as I was doing so, I realized it was much colder than I thought it was and backtracked to get my daughter's coat as my husband helped my boy with his. I opened the door and as I was doing so, I heard the door knock hardly into something. That something was my boy's head. The door knob hit him above his ear. Hard.

And I felt terrible.

I had been chewing him out in such a nagging way. Admittedly, I was still irritated with having to remind and repeat and corral and correct. Yet none of that had anything to do with my poor timing of opening the door and Ben's unfortunate location right in the path of the door knob. All of my woe-is-me-as-a-mom emotions were pushed away by my wanting to comfort Ben, who didn't cry as much as I thought he would normally and was barely talking, which is totally abnormal for my boy who sings and growls and talks nearly constantly.

Ben seemed shocked, sad and mad. He didn't want to talk to me. He wanted Daddy. On the way to church,  I finally got a response when I asked him to growl like a dinosaur. It was strange but sweet music to my ears.

My heart was heavy. I told my son I was sorry for yelling at him. He did give me a kiss as Daddy held him as we sang songs to open the church service. But God wasn't done. 

Our pastor mentioned Sanctity of Life Sunday, a time set aside to bring awareness to how many lives have been lost through abortion. Google tells me other congregations will bring attention to the issue next week. Regardless of the official date, January 2013 is the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Since that decision that legalized abortion, at least 55,808,387 babies weren't given a chance to live, according to information provided by our local pregnancy crisis center.

That's 55.8 million stories that remain untold.

God still wasn't done speaking to my heart. 

A friend of mine gave an update about her high-risk pregnancy and her baby girl who is not developing properly. There is the possibility her baby may not breathe many breaths outside the womb. Best case scenario still means a harder life with shorter-than-normal limbs. My heart has been heavy for my friend and her family.

A prayer time for my friend and her unborn baby followed. I thought about how I'm encouraged my friend's faith to trust God and believe God is indeed good all of the time, even when the world as we want it comes crashing down. I prayed the peace that passes all understanding would cover my friend. I wanted to take back yelling at and nagging my son.

I walked back to my seat, feeling grateful. I'm thankful the two birth moms who carried and birthed my kids chose life for them. I'm thankful I have a husband who loves me so much he wants me to trust God and give him control over every detail of my life, especially my words. I'm thankful for a faith community that prays and encourages and teaches one another.

And I'm thankful for the ways God perfects me and refines me and strengthens me through my imperfections. I really do want to trust him to do the same for my kids.
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This is yet another post in an ongoing series about how God's teaching me to embrace imperfection. You can read my previous posts inspired by "No More Perfect Moms" here. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Weekend Words

Worshiping Like a Child by Mary Carver on (in)courage :: This captures surrender in such a real way for me, someone who hesitates to raise her hands in worship and hates to speak in front of a crowd.

What if you don't know what your God-sized dream is? :: I first met Holley Gerth's words on greeting cards. I've gotten to know them better through her blog and her Dream Team. Her words are kind, nudging, true, and consistent. These were especially sweet to me, even though I don't feel like I'm in a place of struggling to dream with God. Even so, the reminder to keep it simple resonated with me: "Jesus said the two most important things in life are this: Love God, love people. That's true of every God-sized dream. So if you're not sure what words or goals to put to your dream yet, start there."

Breaking Through the Wall of Perfection :: Truth and community are the best tools to combat perfection. I couldn't agree more, Laurie Wallin! Thanks for being real with your words.
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{No More Perfect Moms} Opening our imperfect home

My kids are like company leaches, becoming
attached to anyone who comes in our door. 

"Do you want a beautiful home? Sure, take care of the physical space you have. Maintain it, clean it on occasion, and keep it organized enough to find what you need to find. More than anything, however, focus on the people living inside those walls. When you get right down to it, it's those flawed yet precious family relationships that make your house truly beautiful." 

{From "No More Perfect Moms" by Jill Savage}

"Who's coming over for dinner?" is a popular question from my 5 1/2-year-old daughter. Pretty sure she's working on teaching her 3-year-old brother the same question. Many times I'll tell them Daddy will be home after work and just the four of us are going to eat. But plenty of other days I do get to tell her which friends are coming over for dinner.

Truthfully, we like having friends over for dinner, to watched a basketball or baseball game on TV, or to play games. Just this past Saturday, we did all three with a couple of friends. They came over to watch the Murray State vs. Southeast Missouri basketball game on ESPNU. We ate chicken fajitas with Spanish rice during the game and then played two games of Ticket to Ride after my kids were in bed.

It was a great night, but, you know, it wasn't perfect. Truth is, homes don't have to be perfect to be enjoyed and opened. In fact, it's probably better if they weren't. Take Saturday night,  for example, the kitchen did get swept, but that would have happened regardless of whether friends were coming over. {I have a 3-year-old boy who makes a trail of crumbs wherever he eats and I was tried of stepping in whatever was sitting near his chair.} And, actually, that's not even the whole story: My husband and daughter swept while I finally showered at 2:30 in the afternoon.

I made the easiest chicken fajita recipe possible in my Crock Pot {Hey, it's delicious too!} and cooked an easy Spanish rice recipe on the stove top and left it simmer once our friends arrived and we went to the basement to watch basketball. Not long after we sat down, I remembered I have a delicious {and easy ... catching on the trend in my kitchen?!} white cheese recipe I wished I'd thought of earlier when I was at the grocery store buying the ingredients I needed for the fajitas and rice.

Did I mention our friends had to walk through our laundry room to get from the kitchen to the basement? And then walk through again to get from the basement to the kitchen. And back again. And again. Oh, and there was a shirt still drying hanging in the door frame between the kitchen and laundry room. I did clear a path through the laundry room by stacking on top of the washer and dryer the three baskets with five loads of clean laundry awaiting my attention to be folded.

Immediately upon us all taking our seats in the basement as my husband turned on ESPNU, my kids literally were climbing all over our friends. They're like that. They like people. They aren't shy. And, well, really ... I don't have much other explanation for the climbing on someone else's back. But our friends are good sports. They let them climb. And then our friend Kristen read them books, taught them songs, sang said songs who knows how many times, and broke up a couple arguments between my kids. Meanwhile, us three other adults watched the game, giving Kristen replay highlights courtesy our DVR when necessary.

Sometime during the first half, we paused the game and filled our plates in the kitchen then returned to the basement, where our kids claimed {probably wisely} the only two flat table-like surfaces for their plates while us four adults ate from the plates balanced on our knees. But, hey, this way we could keep watching our beloved Racers, who struggled through the first half and then picked it up behind in time during the second half to claim a victory.

Homemaking and hospitality are kind of like that. There were {and sometimes still are} struggles for me figuring out that my home and life don't have to be perfect to invite others in. But once they're here and real life is shared I feel like I've come away with a win. And it's my hope my friends do too.
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This is yet another post in an ongoing series about how God's teaching me to embrace imperfection. You can read my previous posts inspired by "No More Perfect Moms" here. I received a free PDF copy of Jill Savage's "No More Perfect Moms" as part of the book's launch team, but I truly want to embrace this message and the opinions and experiences are really mine. Learn more about ordering the book here. I wrote this post to link up to Jill Savage's blog, but I posted it an entire week early. Ah ... embracing imperfection! So I've linked up now a week later. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

{God-sized Dreams} The Dreams

I've written some abstract posts about dreaming as my mind and heart sorted through the ideas and thoughts. Consider this my attempt to outline those dreams. Holley Gerth's words of prompting and encouragement, for which I'm thankful in this new year, have inspired this process.


The Mission 
I believe God has created and called me to communicate stories from my own life and others' lives for families to know God as the author and creator of every detail through writing, promoting and serving. 

Do you have a mission statement? If not, here is an awesome, practical guide.

The Dreams

1. Pursue publishing a non-fiction motherhood book I've been writing.
2. Continue praying God would lead us to a birthmom for our third adoption. 
3. Build an on-the-side freelance business.

God-sized dreams aren't about size. They're about trusting God as you follow him in what he has for you to do. What do you sense God calling you to do this year?

"(God) gave us the ability to take action because he wants us to freely move forward rather than him forcing our steps. ... God can handle the big. When you start out, it's okay for your part to simply be the small." 

{Holley Gerth  in The "Do What You Can" Plan}

The Next Steps {The Book}
I've taken some steps already. My four best everyday friends have a copies of my rough draft. My friend of 22 years and my mom have their copies too. Three professional journalists -- a dear friend I made as I was leaving the newsroom and she was coming in, the columnist who mentored me just as I was choosing my college and career path, and my hardest yet favorite professor -- have my words in their hands too. And a stranger I connected with through Holley Gerth's Dream Team has it in her inbox.

Sure, I want them to edit it for grammar and sentence structure, but I also want to know what they think about the format and concept. Does it work? And where do I go from here? Do I need more? Should I research self-publishing? Once I start hearing back from them, I'll go from there and see where it takes me.

The Next Steps {Adoption}
We have our home study updated, although it's not going to be valid that much longer. Thankfully, updating it again isn't a big deal. We believe God wants us to expand our family with a third adoption. We have no idea how or when. So we're waiting.

Meanwhile, we'll continue telling people our story, which includes the hope of meeting a birth mom. This is one of those dreams is totally out of my control.

The Next Steps {For Hire}
Most of what I've done promotions wise has been volunteer at this point. Since quitting my job as a newspaper reporter, I've helped a state senate candidate I believed in, written press releases for a local political party and the private school my daughter attends that I hope expands, begun and continued managing and promoting our two vacation rental lake houses, helped friends promote some events, organized three concerts {Shaun Groves and Slugs & Bugs ... twice}, designed wedding programs for relatives and invitations for birthday parties, bridal showers and baby showers for myself and friends, and planned numerous birthday parties and events.

I'd like to channel some of that experience into an on-the-side freelance business that I've named KHT Promotions. I have self-taught graphic design, photography and scrapbooking skills I can incorporate. I love to use social media. Honestly, I'm not sure what the next steps are, but I'm guessing they'll involve promoting my promotions company. I do have a Facebook page that I'll need to be more active on.

But, until then, I leave you with this:

"... Goals aren't ultimatums; they are simply directions. We are in charge of them -- they're not in charge of us. Goals can be changed, adjusted, or dismissed any time. ... Pursing a goal gets us moving, but it's still God who determines our ultimate destination." 

{Holley Gerth in The "Do What You Can" Plan}

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Read more about God-sized dreams at Holley Gerth's blog. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

{No More Perfect Moms} The Perfection Infection

The Perfection Infection infects me. Big time.

I compare myself and my kids and my husband to other people, often even to the people I adore. Sometimes it's because I think they're doing better than me. Other times I'm full of pride with how we've decided to live life. But all-too-often I'm comparing what I see with what I feel. That's like apples and oranges.

Then the apples and oranges squirt all over the kitchen floor, near where the recyclables are multiplying in the right side of the kitchen sink. I fill my son's sippy cup countless times a day and then wish {sometimes aloud} that he'd decide using the potty was better than laying on his changing table with his hands relaxed behind his head.

Meanwhile, my 5-year-old daughter loves public bathrooms and usually decides she needs to go as soon as we sit down to dinner. Wherever we are. She wants to go by herself, but even our small town I don't usually think that's a good idea.

I have lots of ideas. Read: Expectations. For myself. For my kids behavior. For how my friends should respond. For my husband to read my mind. For the stranger in front of me at the check-out lane at Kroger. For my friends' kids while playing with mine. For my piles of laundry and those crumbs on my floor. For the Lego I keep stepping on and for all the many Crayola products in my daughter's life.

All of that and so much more is why as I continue to read "No More Perfect Moms" I wonder how author Jill Savage knew what I needed to hear. Seriously. She's labeled my diagnosis: The Perfection Infection. She knows all the symptoms Then I remember it's because I'm not alone. This Perfection Infection is ... well ... infectious. And I want to rid my life of it. Thankfully, she offers some remedies too. 

Jill Savage reminds us we are new creations in Christ and that involves deciding {each day, each moment} to follow him by putting on our new self.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. 

Ephesians 4:22-24

In the book, Jill Savage talks about changing pride for humility, fear for courage, insecurity for confidence, and judgement for grace. She elaborates on these in practical ways and comes back to them in the following chapters that focus on kids, bodies, marriages, friends, days, homes and homemaking ... and the imperfections of the realities of all these relationships and responsibilities.

{You can "look inside" this book for yourself and read the first three chapters before it releases. But don't order it yet, but get ready to do so Feb. 4-9. Along with the release of "No More Perfect Moms," Hearts at Home and Moody Publishers will offer additional bonus resources worth more than $100 if you order/buy the book anytime Feb. 4-9. Click here to learn more about this and sign up to be reminded of the release date.}

I took notes about how I can show my husband and kids more grace. I thought about ways I could love my friends and strangers with grace. I remembered ways I could keep insecurity from seeping into my days.

Most all of it keeps coming back to expectations. And how I need to make my expectations more realistic. This doesn't mean lower them, just change them.

"Our expectations are often what keep us from enjoying our real lives, our real families, our real bodies, and our real houses. ... More often than not, we need to change our perspective to better cope with real life. We need to change unrealistic expectations to realistic expectations."

{Jill Savage in No More Perfect Moms}

My kids are 5 and 3 years old. They don't have self-control in the way I often wish they did. I too often scold them for acting like kids when my expectations get interrupted and tell them no because whatever they're asking is inconvenient. I want control and others' approval. They're going to make messes. They're going to mess up, sometimes at what seems like the worst time. But I want my kids to learn and grow and become the people God created them to be. And I don't want my impatience and pride sometimes stand in the way. God created my children. And he created love and outlined exactly how love should be.

God created my husband and our marriage and my friends too. They all make this life richer and funnier and sweeter. And that's why I want to put on humility, courage, confidence, grace, and love. Those characteristics will soften the imperfections that come with real life.

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A PDF copy of "No More Perfect Moms" was provided to me as part of the book's launch team, but I've been excited about this book for awhile and these comments are mine. This book {and lots of extra goodies} will be released on Feb. 4. Get ready to buy it. Read my previous posts about this book and my imperfect motherhood experiences here. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Or follow me on Twitter.

Welcome home, mini van.

You may have heard, I totaled our mini van last month. Totaled as in wrecked. Once I got over the emotional distress of the wreck, I really just missed my van. I missed the space. I missed the ease of having kids get in and out. I missed the automatic sliding doors {even though only one of them was actually working ...}. I missed sitting up high but not being as wide as the Yukon I was borrowing. I missed not being able to hand my 3-year-old boy a wipe at a red light when the sucker the bank teller gave him had turned to red liquid was streaming down his face.

{I should say here I'm totally grateful my mother-in-law let me borrow her eight-passenger Yukon, which I kept calling a monster truck because I thought I was going to run over every other vehicle in any parking lot I had to navigate. Many of my in-laws have their CDL to drive buses. I am not in that group.}

I know of two well-read blogs {MiniVansAreHot and Rage Against the Mini Van} that have titles dedicated to the resistance that some moms have with driving a mini van. While I totally appreciate these mommas' words and stories, I don't understand why someone with more than one kid wouldn't want to drive a mini van. I'm not joking. 

While keeping his eyes out for what I'd requested, the manager of the local Chrysler dealership emailed me and asked, "Does it have to be a mini van? Does it have to seat seven people? I have some nice, small SUVs." No need to think about my response: Yes. And yes. I knew what I wanted to a replace my red 2006 Chrysler Town & Country: Another Chrysler Town & Country. Color and year were negotiable.

I did look at other brands of mini vans at another local car dealership, but none of them had the features I wanted: automatic sliding doors, stow-and-go storage and preferably no DVD player. I guess the stow-and-go storage is a Chrysler and possibly Dodge Caravan feature. Nothing like an organizational feature to keep me loyal to a vehicle company.

Needless to say, I was excited to find a used mini van with the features I wanted in our price range when we were in Louisville after Christmas celebrating with my family. Thank you, Internet, for allowing me to search used mini vans with in a 30-mile radius of my mom's house so easily.

By looking at the photo above, my daughter was happy for the return of a mini van. She and I were running some errands while we were in the big city after picking up the new-to-us blue 2008 Chrysler Town & Country. I said, "Hey, do you want to pose with our new van?" No hesitation, just this smile.

At this rate, my girl will want to drive a mini van the minute she turns 16. Hey, a momma can hope, right?
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Weekend Words

Hurry is a Heart Condition :: This Proverbs 31 devotion spoke to me, the one who talks louder and harsher when I'm trying to get people out the door on time. There is so much truth here that I want tos to hold on to, especially this: The Bible is clear that loving others is critical. And not just in public. First Corinthians 16:14 says, "Let all that you do be done in love" (NASB). Which means when I'm trying to get out the door in the morning, or finishing up a project before a deadline. God clearly was telling me to slow down, and prioritize the person in front of me rather than the task on my to-do list.

The Mad Libs version of your Mission Statement ::  Along with dreaming God-sized dreams, God is speaking to me about being intentional, right down to my attitude and reaction choices. Part of that for me is choosing how to focus my time and energy beyond my little family. Writing a mission statement certainly helps clarify that.

Your Dream and That Target on Your Back :: This was a good reminder that when we follow God, our enemy gets nervous and wants to derail our dream. Our dream. Because we aren't there alone, as Christine Wright reminded me in her post. "When you and I begin to claim all of God's promises for our lives, it creates a ripple effect that can't be stopped. People notice and start to make changes of their own. Little by little, the turn from darkness to light is made and the truth is set free. ... Our dreams are specifically chosen for us, but when your remove the filter of the cross, they can seem like specifically chosen nightmares. With Jesus in His rightful place, even Satan's lies can't bind our God-sized dreams."

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Meet my dreamer friend and her dream

As I've been thinking through some God-sized dreams of my own, a dear friend of mine has been doing some of her own dreaming. We're both writers who are into details, but she's more of a dreamer than me. She's inspired me more than once. And now she's at it again. She's not sure how it's all going to work, but she's moving forward one piece of paper at a time. In an email, she invited friends to share in her dream. I liked how she said it all so much that I asked her if I could share it with you, blog friends. So here are some good-for-the-new-year words from my dreamer friend Holly Wise. 

I'm summarizing 2012 with a word: transition.

And like any transition, there were moments of brutality, heartache, triumph, relief, gratitude, enduring friendship, clarity, and grit.

Some of the year's highlights:

January: I kissed my brother goodbye and sent him off to the Navy.
February: I said goodbye to my lifelong companion and our family dog, Zeb.
March: I finished writing a book.
April: I brought Tuck (a 9-month old German shepherd) into my family.
May: I vacationed in Kentucky.
June: I traveled to Virginia.
July: I started running.
August: I ran my first 5K.
September: I ran another 5K.
October: I vacationed in Kentucky again.
November: I started my own business.

When I peak into 2013, I can't wait. That book I mentioned? It'll be published. That business I started? It's my dream coming true, and I've dreamed big. Is there a proper way to introduce a dream that's taking shape? I'm not sure, but here it is: VoiceBox Media.

A friend told me, "I know what your slogan should be: Live, dream, VoiceBox. Because that's what you're doing. You're living and you're dreaming VoiceBox." She's right. This is a special time for me because VoiceBox Media has been in the making for a long time, conceived in the heart of an awkward teenager to now - a real life endeavor with the support of many of you. My goal as a journalist has always been to change the world, and VoiceBox Media is a tool to do just that.

And we're starting with our first international trip in February! I'm going to Kenya with marathon runner Wesley Korir to write about his Kenyan Kids Foundation. I'd be humbled if you considered joining the 10 x 130 campaign, which will help fund this trip.

If you lose track of me in 2013, look for me in an airport, at a 5K, a library, coffee shop, a small body of water, or my home office. Find me on Facebook, email, Twitter, my blog, website. And if, after all that, you still can't find me, find my dogs. Because where they are is likely where I am.

Cheers to the year that's behind us but not forgotten. And double the cheers for the year ahead.
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Hello, 2013 ...

Some snow changed our post-Christmas travel plans, which among other things meant we would be home for New Year's Eve. My best friend and I have spent all but two {we think ...} New Year's Eves together since 1998. That makes this year our 13th annual celebration that generally include friends, games, food, laughter and talk about whether we'll actually make it to midnight.

This year we got home from Louisville about New Year's Eve afternoon and restored some order to the boxes, bags, and suitcase we dumped in our floor as soon as we walked in the door. Greg went to the grocery for a few soft drinks and other food to share with our friends. We decided to order pizza that could be delivered even though we'd had pizza {albeit different pizza} the night before for dinner. And then I realized other than the rolls of toilet paper in each of the bathrooms, we didn't have any more Angel Soft.

Yep. I was having a party with three other families at my house. That's eight adults and eight kids. And I didn't have three full rolls of toilet paper. So I asked Jaclyn if we could have a couple rolls. And, honestly, it didn't phase me. We have that kind of friendship. And, well, this was our 13th New Year's Eve party together. Plus there are the near-weekly lunches, everyday texts and conversations, walking laps as a way of socializing and exercising, scrapbook nights, and regular Settlers of Catan game nights.

I realized asking my best friend for some toilet paper was setting the tone for 2013. And I was good with how it was going. Really. 

You see, I'd been thinking about and praying about a word that could be my focus for the new year. Resolutions stress me out. I have a rule-following, perfectionist-striving, Type-A personality. I don't want to add a list of to-dos to my life and then feel bad when I don't follow through like I wish I would. But I do appreciate the idea that God doesn't want to leave me where I am. I'm dreaming some God-sized dreams and learning about how perfection has no place in life, especially motherhood. I knew God would lead me to mesh these two topics with my ordinary life in a way that could be captured in a word.

And when I asked Jaclyn if I could have a couple rolls of toilet paper, the word came to me.

Imperfect.

I want to embrace imperfection, rejoice even when imperfect circumstances come my way, learn from imperfection, and realize imperfection is the process by which God is perfecting me. 

The New Year's Eve party was fun. Nobody cared about the simple dinner of delivered pizza. Jaclyn didn't mind sharing a couple rolls of toilet paper {which, by the way, wasn't even really needed because my husband discovered a nearly full package of Angel Soft in the upstairs hall closet the following day!}. We laughed and shared our lives while all eight children slept in various rooms. Oh, and, we almost made it to the new year together.

How would you sum up your focus for 2013 in one word? 
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From my childhood to theirs

I don't want to wish away my kids' childhood, but there are a few things I'm excited my kids are getting old enough and big enough to do. And it's only the beginning. Honestly, there are three things I want my kids to like as much as I liked as a kid. I know, I know, it's their life, but, admittedly, I think roller skating, playing board games and riding roller coasters make life more fun. Plus, they're things we can do as a family. Well, except roller skating, which happens to be the one physical activity my husband missed mastering as a kid. But, hey, he tries!

We've ridden roller coasters {although I'm patiently waiting until they reach the height requirement for the real ones ...} and play board games. And my kids had their introduction to roller skating while we were in Louisville this past weekend celebrating Christmas with my family. What you need to know is my siblings and I went roller skating about once a month, thanks to our elementary school's regular skating parties at Champs. Plus there were countless birthday parties -- ours and our friends' -- held there. Funny thing is, Champs looked just the same this past weekend as it did in 1987.



Cate, who got those pink and white skates for Christmas, asked me how I learned to skate. Honestly, I have no idea. I don't remember learning how. It's one of those things I feel like I've always been able to do, even though I know that's not the case. She held hands with adults for awhile. And then we discovered these PCP-pipe skate trainers available for rent. Totally worth the $3 for the hour she used it. Really, I want to make one so she can learn to the skate in the driveway.

She's much like me, so I gave her a pep talk before we went inside the skating rink. It went something like this: This is going to be hard. But remember you've never done this before so you'll have to learn how. Really, I was giving myself a pep talk too. I know how frustrated I get when I can't do something well. I wanted to remind her that learning a new skill is a process. And I wanted to remind myself not to expect her to zoom around the rink.

It was hard. But she was patient and determined. She fell down. And she got back up. And tried again.

Ben, who is pictured in the top picture, was surprisingly incredible steady on his skates. Perhaps the lower center of gravity helped. Or maybe it's just his all-boy fearlessness. He liked walking in his skates on the less-slick carpet around the rink, but, really, he just wanted to play air hockey in the arcade.

My momma heart was proud and thankful. For her and her attitude toward a new {kind of hard} activity. For my boy, who dived right into this, like he does most things. And for the reminiscing moments with my family. 

And a little blurb on board games. Cate got Hedbanz, which despite the ridiculous spelling, is a fun game we've played before, from her aunt and uncle. We've also been into Trouble, Sorry and Scrabble Junior around here.

What board games do you like to play with your kids? What other activities have you {or will you when the time and age are right ...} introduced your kids to that reflect your own childhood?
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