{Five Minute Friday} Jump!

Aug. 9, 2011. Ben was still more than 3 months from turning 2, but jumping didn't scare him.

I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, a link-up writing prompt at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog. This week the prompt is "Jump ..." I used five minutes in the pick-up car line at my daughter's school to write this. It's funny to me the word is "Jump" because just yesterday I posted about jumping into the lake. 

Five minutes starts now. 

GO ...

My life is punctuated with more dashes, commas and periods than exclamation points. I just don't literally jump around much. I don't like to be the center of attention, cause potential embarrassment to myself, or dance.

That doesn't mean I don't feel joy.

I remember when I was a kid negotiating with myself after whether I'd go off the high dive. I was like a fish, but I was a little nervous about the free fall from way up there.

I did. And I did it again and again. Summer after summer. I even bungy jumped while tethered to my husband many years later after I convinced myself to go up that ladder to the high dive. Sometimes joy is like that. It comes after some persuasion and choices.

Now I watch my kids, especially my boy, jump right in to the water. And life. They don't have fear like I did when I was their age. And that makes me want to jump.



STOP.

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 and encourage them in their comments. That is like the one rule we all really care about.

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{Out of the Blue} Jumping in

I didn't picture myself here. When I had a media badge hanging around my neck not long after we first moved here, people gave me directions by describing what used to be on such-and-such corner or where Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So lived. Parades go down Main Street at least for times a year and we can walk to our unofficial parade-watching place from our house that faces one of the two parks here.

Even when I settled into this small town, somewhere I said I'd never be, I still wasn't sure about the lake. Snakes and fish live in lakes. I wasn't going to swim with them. "I'm a beach girl," I'd tell my husband, who once majored in fisheries biology before opting for a radio-television degree on his way to law school.

Then I gradually fell in love with The Lake.


This week Kristen at Chasing Blue Skies prompts: Tell me about a place that surprised you by how much you liked it. Write about how you didn’t expect to love it and why you now do. 


{This week is almost like a continuous of last week's Out of the Blue post for me.}

The Lake. Kentucky Lake. It's the largest man-made lake in terms of surface area {160,308 acres} in the United States east of the Mississippi River.

It's big. And yes, there are many fish in it. I still am geographically challenged when I'm out on the water in a pontoon boat someone else is driving. But I've found a home there. It may be created by a man who decided to damn a river, but I still see the beauty of the Creator there. 

Reading and rest come easily from the back porch that overlooks the quiet bay that I've decided isn't so bad to swim in. The kabobs my husband grills over charcoal out there taste better sitting on that porch. Several years ago, I first went tubing, holding on tightly with my arms intertwined with my dear friend Holly's arms. This act of being pulled swiftly on top of the water, knowing I could fall off into The Lake has become my favorite activity out there.

We make memories there with friends. And we invite others in. {Seriously, you could fall in love too. The Gathering Place is available for rent.} We've lived here almost a decade. Yes, this small-town life has surprised me over and over again, but falling in love with The Lake is one of the best surprises of all.
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I'm linking up with Kristen at Chasing Blue Skies. Her Out of the Blue series on surprises has been so good for me. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Or follow me on Twitter and Instagram.

{No More Perfect Moms} Reclaiming dinner with some help

"I really wanted to make this chicken enchilada recipe I found. I really wanted to eat dinner at home."

Those were the words in a text I sent my husband last week during the 3 1/2 hours I waited to see my doctor only to have her tell me I needed to actually see a different doctor. Mourning my meal came on the heels of carpool drama and medical frustrations.

Dinner just didn't happen around our table last week. Monday there was an adult-only dinner at the private school our daughter attends so Greg and I ate there while my mother-in-law fed Cate and Ben. I don't remember what happened Tuesday, but we ended up going out. There was planned dinner out after t-ball practice on Wednesday evening.

And then there was Thursday, when I didn't get home until a few minutes after 6 just as Greg was getting ready to walk out the door to a meeting. My sweet mother-in-law who had been at my house since 2:15 so I could go to my doctor's appointment had waited until I got home so she could treat us all to dinner. Except I was at the doctor so long my husband couldn't join us. But Cracker Barrel tasted oh-so good after the afternoon with too much waiting and too little carpool communication.

We headed out of town Friday after school, so we got dinner on the way. We ate out all weekend with friends and family we don't see often enough. Then we came home Sunday afternoon to few groceries, so we went through another drive-thru. And I prompted thawed some chicken for our next dinner together.

One of my favorite things about my husband is he never makes me feel like a wife/mom failure for not forcing a homecooked dinner around the table. He doesn't care when we eat store-bought ravioli with jarred spaghetti sauce and garlic bread from Kroger's bakery. In fact, he tells me how good it is. And he means it. There are things he doesn't love as much as me, but he eats them and doesn't tell me about what he wished we'd had.

But weeks like my last, when life bombards dinner time, I get frustrated and crave that time around our table that is stained with spills and etched with imperfections.

I know how to meal plan and freezer cook. And I've seen these strategies greatly improve the 4 o'clock hour in my house. Instead of trying to come up with a plan, I'm making sure the casserole is thawed and we have some canned green beans to go along side it. {Well, you know, when I remember to thaw the poppyseed chicken ...} But I've been at a loss at what to make. It tends to come with the new {warmer} season.

So, friends, I signed up for eMeals. I'm going to receive weekly meal plans {seven main dinner dishes and a suggested sides} in my inbox. And maybe my favorite part: There is a grocery list catered to my preferred grocery store and organized by area {you know, produce, meat, canned, frozen ...}. This will happen for six months, thanks to my $35. I'll evaluate then about whether to continue.

But that first meal plan helped inspire me. And so far so good. If nothing else, I'll have a new set of recipes from which to choose. Obviously dinnertime -- the actually act of sitting down together or the food itself -- won't ever be perfect but prioritizing this time for my family is important to us.
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This post is inspired by Jill Savage's Hearts at Home Blog Hop. This is another post in an ongoing series about how God's teaching me to embrace imperfection. My favorite book in this process has been Jill Savage's "No More Perfect Moms," which is on sale at Amazon for $8.88.

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Start. And then start again.

Life is like a race. That's what I kept thinking when I read Jon Acuff's new book "Start." Through his witty but wise words, Acuff challenges readers to make their race awesome.

The starting line is the only line you completely control. The start is the only moment you’re the boss of. The finish? Don’t kid yourself. That’s months, if not years, away. You are going to meet dozens of people who are going to impact your finish. You are going to have countless opportunities, experiences, and challenges that dot the map of awesome you’re following. There are cliffs and rivers and jungles you can’t begin to fathom. You are going to stand on a mountaintop that is better than anything you ever dreamed and laugh at the idea that you thought you could plot out your finish.

{Jon Acuff in "Start"}

Starting is our choice. We have dreams and ideas. This book will make you want to get them from your head, onto paper, and into your life. At least it did me. It's a practical approach to a topic that is hard to wrap words around. And, personally, this book came at a good time. On the heels of Holley Gerth's "You're Made For a God-sized Dream," this dreaming business wasn't new to me and I was eager for more encouragement and direction. 

Jon Acuff tells some his own failures that led to successes and the people who helped him along the way. Of course, not everybody you meet will want to help you, but that's to be expected. Not everyone will get it. I appreciated his point that I shouldn't be running this race -- my race -- for anyone by me. And, well, God. But Acuff doesn't preach faith element, which, really, is OK because it doesn't aim to be that kind of book. 

Some people are going to be farther ahead. Others will be trying to catch you. Even so, focus on your race, what you're called to do. That doesn't mean everything will go as planned. There will be hurdles and obstacles and fun surprises and new friends and decisions and interruptions. That's got to be OK because the journey is an essential part of the race.

We want to plan the road to awesome. We want to talk about our ten-year visions. We want to detail every step before we take a single one. To make sure there’s no room for mistakes or failure. But when we do that, when we squeeze our lives and purposes that tightly, we eliminate any room for surprises. ... We scowl when people interrupt what we’re doing at work, grumble when neighbors want to talk at the mailbox, and curse momentary distractions to a day we’ve planned. The road to awesome, though, is defined by the surprises. It’s not a block in a downtown city laid out long ago by methodical city planners. It’s a rambling dirt road with twists and turns that offers something new at every corner. Let’s leave room on our maps for some surprises.

{Jon Acuff in "Start"}

Throughout the book, there is advice on what to do through each phase: Things can change. Have purpose. Rest. Realize you can't do it all. Try the things you think you want to do. Be brave. Have fun. It's about your heart, not the size of your audience. Find a mentor. Practice. Work hard. Volunteer. Take a break. Guide people. Start again. {Obviously he elaborates on all of these throughout the pages.}

You may get bumped. You may finish ahead of the pack. You may come in last. Either way, you'll have to start again.
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I got a free electronic copy of "Start" for being part of the book's launch team, but I didn't promise anything more than my thoughts. In fact, the race analogy is mine. And those are my pictures from our trip to Keeneland this past week. 

"Start" officially releases Monday {April 22}, but if you pre-order it, you can get all kinds of FREE goodies {worth $250} to help inspire you. Your can also order it from Amazon and still receive the extras. {Details here.}

I'm also linking up to #TellHisStory with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other storytellers because this is the story that's been on my heart this year and one that God is obviously still teaching me. 

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{God-sized Dreams} He's louder than the noise

My kids rested on me at Keeneland this weekend.

As a momma, quiet sometimes comes in small doses. Holley Gerth challenged us God-sized dreamers to set aside a particular time this week to be with the Giver of dreams to pray, journal, take a walk, or simply sit quiet and listen.

Honestly, my life hasn't been quiet lately. Have you met my kids? Goodness knows if you have, Cate has told you a story and Ben has interrupted hers to tell you one of his own and maybe growled in your face.

But it's not just my kids making noise.

I've had lots of inquiries and details to tend to for our vacation rental lake house and the one I manage for another property owner. A couple weeks ago, I officially became a freelance writer as I accepted two assignments for a local parenting magazine. I have three assignments for the coming month. I've been working on growing my blog. I still have book ideas popping in and out of my head.

And that's just the professional side of life. There's the wife and momma parts, which, you know, entail all sorts of job description. In just the last week, I've been a teacher, nurse, counselor, cook, maid, taxi driver, cheerleader, protector, banker, friend, partner, organizer, communicator, promoter, and shopper. And, really, these are the roles that matter most.

So, yeah, sometimes I have to go to the bathroom. Yes, I need to go. But sometimes I keep the door shut a few minutes longer, take a few deep breaths and return to this job of mine that is the best and hardest I've experienced.

A few times the quiet lasted longer than an extended stay in the bathroom while my kids inevitably needed something and told me about it from the other side of the door. One was when I waited much too long to see my doctor who really just directed me to another doctor farther away. I was frustrated and burdened with a miscommunication I could only partially handle via text. Yet I managed to come away with clarity on a couple areas related to my family, which is my first and dearest calling.

Another was when I decided to go sit on the porch swing with "Start" by Jon Acuff and ignore the noise and chores and lists. My boy slept, so I rested. Well, except the book kept my mind going, reassured me about life and challenged me to take next steps.

There were a couple runs in this spring weather that helped me clear my head, ponder truth and take a break from the many, many other things I could be doing.

Truth is, God meets me wherever I am. Sometimes I can hear him in the noise. Other times I have to shut the bathroom door. There are times I turn up the songs streaming from my iPhone to distract me from the other noise. Some days I'm so grateful for my kids' bedtime to come. And other days I'm counting down the days until summer break so I can have these kids of mine around more. God is mightier and louder than it all if we just seek him, even if {especially when?} our lives are noisy.
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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. 

I'm also linking up with the Soli Deo Gloria party at Finding Heaven

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{York Photo} Deals on gifts

I often give photo gifts to my mom. And my mother-in-law. And, really, anyone. So when there are deals, I like to figure out who can benefit from me making a personalized gift while not breaking the bank.

If you've never ordered from York Photo, I have a couple new customer opportunities from York Photo that will be perfect for Mother's Day. {It's Sunday, May 12, if you need to make a note on your calendar.}

So, new York Photo customers, here are the details. Most notable, it's an either OR deal. So pick which deal you like best and go for it.

To get the 11-by-14 designer poster for $2, use THANKSMOM when you check out. Standard shipping is $2.49.

To get the 4-by-6 softcover photo book for $2, use PRAISEMOM when you check out. Standard shipping is $2.99.

With either deal, you'll get 40 FREE PRINTS when you open your account. Both coupons codes are for a one-time use and can't be combined with other codes. They expire May 3.

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{Compassion} Change a story

When I signed up to participate in Compassion Sunday, I didn't realize I'd get all these profiles of kids who needed to be sponsored. I mean, I know there are tons of precious pictures online. But to hold these packets in my hands is different.

I can't sponsor them all, but, goodness, I don't want to send them back after next week's Compassion Sunday. This day is a chance for church congregations to learn more about what Compassion International does and hear more personal testimony about how sponsoring a child is good for that child, obviously, but how it also changes your story here, where we have more than we could ever possibly need.

Waiting for sponsors are ...

Gisella, 4, in Indonesia
Esteban, 9, in Mexico
Lucia, 7, in Nicaragua
Ester, almost 4, in Tanzania
Damini, 9, in India
Milton, 10, in Guatemala
Patricia, 6, in Ghana
Sanju, 10, in India
Francisca, 9, in Brazil
Yakeline, 5, in Peru
Pehiagaing, 6, in India
Marilyn, 10, in Guatemala
Geremy, 4, in Nicaragua
Prince, 8, in Ghana
Sunil, almost 8, in India

For $38 a month, you can give a child what they need. They'll get educational, medical, social, practical and spiritual guidance and resources they didn't have before. Your regular financial contribution and the letters you exchange with your child will change a story there and here. {This $38 is tax-deductible and can be automatically deducted each month.}

I'm going to take these profiles and some stories of our own to our congregation on April 21. But, honestly, here's the deal: I go to a small church. It's a generous church, where several families already sponsor children through Compassion International. I hope a few more children get sponsors there. But I also want to ask you, this online extension of my community, to consider sponsoring a child. 

If you live in Murray, I invite you to come hold some of these profiles in your hand. Pick a country or name or birthdate that means something to you. Or pick a child who has been wanting longer than the others to be chosen. Or choose someone from that list up there and I'll get you the info you need to start a sponsorship. If you live elsewhere, go browse the online profiles. There you can search by country, sex, birthdate, and wait time.

And then there is Pedro in Brazil, who needs a sponsor and a smile.

Choose a child. And choose to change a story somewhere else and right here at home. 
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Messy, imperfect motherhood

I'm thankful to be out of town this weekend visiting one of my dearest friends and watching thoroughbreds race at Keeneland, one of the most beautiful places and events Kentucky has to offer. But I thought I'd celebrate the weekend with by sharing some of my crazy, real week. 

Quite some time ago, I decided I didn't want to complain on Facebook. I didn't want my status updates to continually express that it was a hard day. Now, I often ask for advice because motherhood is the hardest job I've ever had. And I've recently let it be known I'm boycotting Walmart because of unhelpful, bad attitudes in the oil change department ... two days in a row!

But, thing is, life isn't perfect. Yes, Facebook captures more highlights than complaints, but, honestly, I'm happier and more content when I don't complain. And, you know, when you choose between two pictures, you're gonna go with the one that's more flattering. That doesn't mean my life or the people in it are perfect.

So I thought I'd share some stories from this week with you, just like I did in text messages to a few of my closest friends. Us mommas need to vent and share and laugh because motherhood is an adventure.

We lost our son in our own house. 
Yes, seriously. It was about 10:30 p.m. Monday night. Greg and I were finishing up watching the National Championship game in our basement and heard the pitter-patter of little feet running across the laminate flooring. We walked upstairs because we didn't need to see Louisville celebrating anyway and we couldn't find Ben. He wasn't in our room. He wasn't in the kitchen. Or either of the bathrooms. He wasn't in his old room. He wasn't in his new room. He wasn't under his bed. He wasn't in the living room. And he wasn't in his sister's room.

The doors were locked. The house was quiet.

Turns out he was in the living room. In the corner of the couch. With a blanket over him. Silent as a mouse. Greg moved the blanket and Ben grinned and told us he was playing Hide-and-Seek.

Here's what you need to know: Ben used to be the worse Hide-and-Seek player. Ever. He'd tell you where he was. He'd make so much noise moving around that you'd have to look other places knowing he wasn't actually there just to make him think you were playing along.

Well, he's become the champion Hide-and-Seek player. So much so, we lost him. Then we found him. And sent him back to bed.

I thought our stroller was stolen.
But, really, my son just decided it needed to go on a stroll. He pushed it into the drainage creek in our front yard.

Thankfully, there wasn't much water in it Wednesday -- the day before it rained for many, many hours. My friend Courtney helped me rescue it. I sprayed it off and then laid it out to dry.

Before it could get dry, the rain drenched it again, but that one isn't Ben's fault.

I spilled milk ... 
... between the stove and the counter.

You know, that little sliver of space where crumbs go to rot? Yep. There. So Greg helped me move the stove out from the wall so I could clean up the spilled milk. I didn't cry. But I didn't want to let that leave an unwanted smell in our kitchen. While I was back there, I wiped off and swept up so many other unintentional leftovers from meals long, long ago.

A baseball loosened Cate's tooth.
She's been losing teeth, like kindergartners do. The remaining front tooth was loose, but at Cate's first t-ball practice Wednesday evening, a baseball bounced up and hit her mouth, loosening the tooth anymore. Oh, and it bled some too. She wiggled it, thinking she'd just pull it out there. I convinced her to just go play, reminding her it would come out when it was ready.

About 12 minutes later, she walked over and smiled a more-toothless grin. And Coach Daddy handed me the tooth. That was No. 5. And it's not the first one she's lost while playing a sport. Although the first wasn't a direct result of the sport.


Ben peed all over a restaurant floor.
We walked into Culver's after Cate's t-ball practice. She was still saying words that sounded funny because her tongue doesn't have any front teeth to press up against. I figured out what everyone wanted to eat and started ordering when I heard Ben say, "I have to pee," and grab his crotch. I mumbled, "Just a minute."

And then he peed. A lot of pee. In a pool around his feet. On a restaurant floor.

Greg swept him up and carried him the bathroom, creating a trail of pee across the floor. The restaurant floor. I finished ordering, got Cate settled at a table, and then realized I couldn't really help get dry clothes from the minivan because Greg had the key.

Knocking on the door didn't really cross my mind, but calling and texting did. Unfortunately, I had his phone in my purse because t-ball coaches don't need extraneous things like phones in their pockets.

And just one last note: If you or one of your friends is going sneak a mini Cadbury Creme Egg {the last one!}, you should discard the evidence. And, honestly, I have no idea which kid in my life I'm talking to. Both my own and a friend were in the kitchen unsupervised at different times Wednesday.

Yes, Wednesday, the same day I spilled milk, thought my stroller was stolen, held my daughter's fifth tooth in my hand at t-ball practice, and apologized to the distraught cashier because my son peed all over the floor.

I laughed this week more than I yelled. Yes, I found relief when I could sit down after my kids were in bed each night. I took some deep breaths, talked to my husband, rested, and woke back up the next morning to do it all over again.

Some days are messy, like that milk beside my stove or the pee on the restaurant floor. Other days are adventures, like the stroller's ride in the ditch. Some days are a combination of both. We haven't even talked about my son's poison ivy in his ear and on his boy part or the oral steroid that cleared him up but put him a little on edge. And I wrote all of this before I waited for 3 1/2 hours to see my doctor only to have her tell me I actually needed to go back to the doctor in Louisville. Really. Seriously. Meanwhile, while I sat in an exam room for hours, there was an enormous miscommunication about carpool from school so I had to track down my daughter via text messages with my husband, who made a phone call.

My husband and best friends get my venting moments so all of Facebook doesn't have to hear. My life is real. I have lots and lots of good days and plenty of hard ones. It's a hard lesson for me to learn, but laughing over the mishaps in life really is better than crying over spilled milk.

What story {or stories, perhaps!} do you have to share about your week?
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{Slugs & Bugs} Let's kick start it!

What do you do when one of your favorite artists has a fabulous idea that needs support?

Um, support it. Duh.

So that's what I'm doing. And I'm inviting you to join me. Randall Goodgame is spearheading the newest Slugs & Bugs project of putting scripture straight from the Bible {one translation or another ...} to catchy music that makes memorizing truth fun for kids. And, um, probably adults too.

You've probably heard of Kickstarter, but if not Randall summed it up well: Kickstarter helps people support the creative works they believe in, and in return, they get first access to those creative works. This particular Kickstarter campaign aims to raise $40,000 in 40 days to cover the costs associated with making this new Slugs & Bugs album. {You can read more here.}

Wanna help? Here you go. This campaign will be going on through May 21.

Slugs & Bugs is favorite music around our house. Ben went through a phase last year of wanting "Tractor, Tractor" sang to him nightly. Like as a bedtime song. Being the accommodating Daddy he is, Greg made up additional verses and kept the routine up for quite some time. Cate is old enough to appreciate the humor in "Under Where?" and even has possession of Randall's stuffed bunny.

But it's not just the music now. I've organized two Slugs & Bugs concerts here in Murray {September 2011 and November 2012} and gotten to include Slugs & Bugs live music in a Jesus birthday party. Through those things, I've gotten to know Randall Goodgame. He's the real deal. He's a husband and dad leading his family. He's a musician and friend and Christ follower. And he believes in this music he's making.

Here are some cool informational sneak peeks, courtesy Randall Goodgame himself: The African Children's Choir will be on the album. And Sally Lloyd-Jones, who wrote the "The Jesus Storybook Bible," will read scripture.

And here is a musical peek ...


Here is a list of the scriptures that will be put to song, Slugs & Bugs style. There will also be a musical list of the Old Testament and New Testament books.

Just for the record, I recommend all three previous Slugs & Bugs albums. My girl has been listening to the Christmas album lately, so it's obviously good enough for year-round use. "Under Where?" has my favorite "I'm Adopted" on it. And "Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies" is the original collection of songs that got my family hooked.
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You can learn more about Slugs & Bugs at their website, Facebook, Twitter and YouTube. And, really, you should consider supporting this project that will help kids get truth stuck in their heads. Affiliate links for the CDs included. I don't get anything for telling you about Kickstarter, but I do want this new music to blare in our minivan, so let's get this project funded!

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{Out of the Blue} A Good Goodbye

When I graduated from college in 2001, I was ready to say goodbye to Murray -- a small town in far western Kentucky that had been my home for three-fourths of the previous four year. I liked this town I had stepped foot in twice before moving my stuff into my dorm room in August of 1997. I liked college. But I was ready to be done. And gone.

I had my sights on a copy editing job at a big city newspaper. First up, it was an internship as a reporter, mostly covering the police beat during the night shift, at the Lexington Herald-Leader. Then I took a nine-month temporary job at The Associated Press in Louisville. Lexington. Louisville. Now these were the places I could live. 

Trouble was, I fell in love. With a boy from small-town Murray. He proposed marriage ... and a move back to his hometown Murray when he finished law school. Inside, I was hesitant. Hadn't I said a good goodbye to this town that had served me well?

But I said yes to Greg. Then I found a job at a newspaper in a town smaller than Louisville or Lexington but bigger than Murray, where I could work for a year while my college-boyfriend-turned-husband finished law school. We lived our first year of marriage in Lexington and have been back in Murray for the past 9 1/2 years.

And guess what? I like it here. Surprise!

Continuing with surprises, this week Kristen asks: How did a goodbye surprise you by increasing your joy or make a difference in your life? At the time, the goodbye might have been easy or difficult. Either way, you can look back and see how God’s grace used the then goodbye for the now good.

I was happy to say goodbye to Murray the first time, but that move started a God-orchestrated domino effect that surprised me more than once. I left friends in Murray when I had bigger cities in my sights. And while working and living in Lexington for three months, Louisville for nine months and back to the Lexington area for 15 months, I got to be closer to a college friend in Murray through email messages and phone calls.

Jaclyn and I were friends and had a larger circle of common friends when we both lived in that small town I was ready to leave. But once out of college we found ourselves in the same seasons of life. We were beginning careers we believed we were created to do and we were planning weddings to the boys who stole our heart when we were studying these fields. I was a journalist. She was a teacher. But we both wanted to please people and meet high expectations, really, to a fault.

But that year of swapping stories and asking for advice solidified a friendship that I'm not sure I could live without. God knew I'd need her then. And he knew I'd need her now.

When I said goodbye to my first year of marriage and loaded up the moving truck on our anniversary, I got to say hello to living in the same town as Jaclyn. She had stayed in Murray after graduating from college the year before me and I was so thankful to have a friend in the town I wasn't sure I wanted to call home.

Murray is now home, in part because Jaclyn is here. We have relatives here. We rooted ourselves here and God created our family here. And God gave us some of the dearest friends possible in a town I wasn't sure would ever offer new friends.

I leaned on Jaclyn, her infertility experience, and the hope that her baby boy embodied as I cried out to God when Greg and I couldn't get pregnant. We've gotten through the hard days of marriage and careers and motherhood together. That's right, motherhood. We both walked through seasons of infertility to come out with five kids in five years between us. She's going to start working full-time again and I'm adding back in some freelance work. I'm sure we'll need each other to figure out to balance yet another new season we'll share.

That goodbye to Murray in 2001 meant hello to a deeper friendship with one of the most important people in my life. I said goodbye to thoughts of big city life a couple years later and hello {again} to that friend. She's my neighbor now. We do this small-town but awfully full life together because some goodbyes really are good.
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I'm linking up today as part of the "Out of the Blue" series at Chasing Blue Skies. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Or follow me on Twitter and Instagram.

{#TellHisStory} Hello, spring ...

My boy has been wearing shorts. He's got scrapes and bruises all over his legs. The poison ivy in his ear, on his chin, along his hair line of the neck, and on his boy part -- really -- is drying up.

My girl is congested but happy it's spring has sprung. She's worn shorts and skirts without leggings. And t-ball starts tonight. She has 5 1/2 weeks of school left.

I've been in flip flops the past few days. We've played at the park and outside in our backyard. We've sat on the porch. The days are longer and my kids require baths more often. And, you know, it's easier to get out of the door without coats and layers of clothes.

My husband likes having baseball on the TV and is looking forward to his outdoor birthday party in 1 1/2 weeks. He's turning 35. The in the two weeks that follow his birthday, I'll turn 34 and Cate will turn 6. I'm ready for him to grill beef, squash and onion kabobs for our dinner.

This is spring. 

Spring is always good for my soul, even if the pollen over takes my senses. Being outside and seeing the sunshine breaths life into my life. There is freedom in running outside, taking walks with my family, and seeing my kids play with each other and their friends.

The newness of springs reminds me that no season lasts forever. I live in a place where winters are mild, but there are four distinct seasons. I like that. I tend to say summer is my favorite, but when I really do like spring and fall too. I say I don't like change, but, really, I'm usually ready for the new season.

And not just the weather ones. There is a season for everything. God created time and continues to work in our lives in his time.

Last week my kids and I took an impromptu trip to the city about 45 minutes away. We had lunch at Chick-fil-A and then went to a local, fun indoor play place. I sat there as they played wishing I'd brought my Kindle. My purse wasn't overflowing because it didn't contain a diaper for the first time in almost 6 years {minus the month Cate was potty trained before Ben was born ...} and nobody needed a sippy cup.

In those moments sitting on that picnic table bench while my kids ran and jumped and played, I realized we were in a new season. My boy, who just weeks ago liked me changing his diaper better than thinking about going in the potty, ushered it in when he decided big-boy underwear really did make life better. I was dreading potty training him. But once he was ready, it clicked. And it wasn't a big, dramatic deal.

And here were are. It's spring, literally, and in my house, where life seems new and fresh. It's not a perfect season. The pollen is wild here and clogs our noses. But this is a welcomed season that propels us forward, inching us closer to the Creator.
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I'm linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other storytellers. #TellHisStory is a chance to tell a story that connects your story to God's story. 

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{God-sized Dreams} Chihuahuas not welcome

"Fear hangs out right next to whatever it is you’re most called to do. That means the closer you get to your calling, the louder fear sounds. Keep going – fear is a chihuahua that sounds like a Doberman."

{Holley Gerth in "You’re Made for a God-sized Dream"}

Dear Chihuahua of Fear,

I have some things I’d like to say to you, starting with stay out of my yard.

You may think I'm boxing myself in with this fence to keep you out, but, really, there is freedom here. There is freedom because I do venture outside my yard, but I have this safe place to come to when I need to regroup. This is the place I've cultivated with my husband, my kids and those closest to us. This is the place where we choose what comes in and how we spend our time. Our yard looks different than our neighbors' and friends'. And that's OK.

Chihuahua of Fear, you may yap and bark and whine to be let into my yard, into my life, but I'm not going to let you in. I don't want to step in your messes or have you interrupt my life. Chihuahua of Fear, you make me think everybody has to like me and that there's only one way to do something. The people-pleasing and judgmental ways have got to go. The over-analyzing conversations and moments isn't good for my soul. And competition? Really, it has no place among friends.

I've been wondering/If we stop sinking/Could we stand our ground/And through everything we've learned/We've finally come to terms/We are the outsiders .../On the outside/You're free to roam/On the outside/We found a home/On the outside/There's more to see/On the outside/We choose to be

{From "The Outsiders" by Needtobreathe}

It's ironic, really. Little yappy Chihuahua, I don't want you in my yard. You're on the outside. Yet this yard I'm cultivating with the Maker of it all really is on the outside of our society. I don't want to do what everyone else is doing. Yes, sometimes that's easier.

But living intentionally and radically will make a difference in my kids' hearts and our relationships in this world. We're outsiders here, though, really. Because our sights are set on another yard, a place Jesus has spent more than 2,000 years preparing for us. I think of the glory I've seen here, and, really, I can't imagine the glory we'll experience there.

So stay out of my yard here, Chihuahua of Fear, because you won't be welcome with us in this heavenly place being prepared for us outsiders.
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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. Holley encouraged this post to start out with those first 14 words, which, as she said, "Is this kinda silly? Um, yes, but that’s the point. Fear always tries to make us take it more seriously than we should."

I'm also linking up with Soli Deo Gloria at Finding Heaven. 

Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Or follow me on Twitter and Instagram. Affiliate link included.

{DaySpring} Deals on jewelry, gifts and cards

I really love this bracelet. Holley Gerth and Lisa Leonard make a good team.

And you know what? This bracelet and lots of other lovely pieces of jewelry are 25% off at DaySpring today through April 21 when you use GRATEFUL25 at checkout.

Are you looking for some Mother's Day presents? DaySpring has some lovely gifts. Check out the Good Things and Walk in Grace collections. Plus you'll save 30% with MOM30 at checkout throughout April.

Alright, one more deal. Gifts and cards that celebrate friendship are 30% off this month. No code needed; just enjoy the sale this month.
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{Giveaway} Seasons with Soul captures truth

I'm welcoming my God-sized dreaming friend Elizabeth Anne May here today. She captures beauty and truth in the pictures she takes with her camera and the ones she creates with her words. More than once, she's summed up the condition of my heart when I didn't even know how to put my own thoughts into words. 

Today, I had my first Artist Date.

{I've just started The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. It prescribes a two-hour Artist Date every week as part of a creative recovery or discovery process.}

According to my new guru, Julia, I'm supposed to be feeding my inner artist-child -- i.e., not doing anything boring or practical -- so I choose ice cream, sunshine, and flowers.

We've had a long, hard winter, so the appearance of sunshine and 50-something temps is cause for celebration. And, I've recently come off a food challenge that mandated no dairy, grains, or sugar. {If you knew me, you would know cheese, bread, and chocolate are my dietary holy trinity, making this no small feat.}

So, I pick up a novel, a Drumstick, and my camera {as well as technical necessities -- my mobile phone, baby monitor, notepad, and pen}. First, I head to the new spot my husband's cleared just outside our chain-link fence, a few feet from the creek bank.

I revel in cream and caramel and crunch. I listen to creek-shush. I'm pleasantly startled when a mallard skitters up and away. I contemplate the delicate beauty of sycamore tree-tops against pale-blue sky. I read fiction {something I haven't allowed myself in far too long, being too busy with a huge stack of non-fiction tomes that counsel me on improving myself, my marriage, my parenting skills, my prayer habits, my artistic habits, and more}.

I probably only sit still for a half hour or so. Play is hard work for me, and I opt to move on.

I head to the patch of crocus under our hydrangea bush. They're a positive riot of white, violet, and orangey-yellow that I must try to capture.

I throw down an old towel and stretch all the way out, getting level with the beauteous bulbs. I play with angles and point of focus and depth of field. I am no expert, no trained photographer, but I find that I increasingly search out beauty through my lens. I seek out nature's glory, and find that I can uncover loveliness in the most unlikely places, have even done so in the dead of winter.

I particularly enjoy pairing my photos {of flowers, moss, seed pods, bark, or ice droplets}with scripture. It seems an especially apt marriage. I believe God's creativity shines brightest through his handiwork in nature; it's his ultimate art project. <—Tweet This!

In mid-February, I opened an Etsy shop, selling original photo prints, enhanced with scripture typography.

While, most days, my focus is on writing and blogging, I love playing with photography. {Here's an area where play is easy for this busy, Type-A mom.} I relish the opportunity to take off into my yard and explore, finding unexpected treasure.

When my sweet friend here, Kristin, asked if I'd like to write a guest post about my Etsy shop/photography and host a giveaway, I was thrilled to do so. This week I'm giving away a 5x7 print of your choice from the shop. You can enter by checking out the prints and then commenting below about which one you like best. Kristin will randomly select a winner on Friday.

There's more! I'm also offering a 20% off coupon for Kristin's readers this week. Simply enter code GRANDOPENING at checkout.
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Elizabeth grew up on a small, 220-acre farm in the Midwest and lives today in the suburbs with her three littles (10,8, and 3), her husband, and their ditsy but lovable English Springer Spaniel. She's a food freak, lover of all things DIY, and a reformed perfectionist  She also has a habit of training for and running a half-marathon in the spring and then eating chocolate the rest of the year and avoiding exercise. 

A professional writer who’s worked in higher education and health care for the past 15 years, Elizabeth gave up her paying clients in September to work for a new boss. {She's says He's divine.}

You can find her writing about faith, family, and nature at Seasons with Soul or follow her on Twitter.

Note: This post contains an affiliate link. If you click through the link and make a purchase, Elizabeth will earn a small percentage. It's clicks like these that help keep her site up and running, so thanks!

{Five Minute Friday} After

I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, a link-up writing prompt at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog. This week the prompt is "After..." 

Five minutes starts now. 

GO ...

After almost three hours at the park with a friend, I'm sitting in the quiet of my house. The only sound is the "A for Adoption" album playing from iTunes here at my lap top. {You should go check it out on Noisetrade.} One kid is sleeping and the other is watching a movie in the other room.

After 10 1/2 of years of marriage, I'm in my favorite season of life yet. I like it here and excited about what's next. The first decade was good, but it was harder than these days. I feel like Greg and I are in sync with each other.

After three years, I still wish my kids had their Granddaddy. We're going to visit my father-in-law's grave at a cemetery not too far from our house tomorrow, the anniversary of the day he died unexpectedly. If ever there was a human ready for heaven, it was Gary.

After two adoption stories that were clearly orchestrated by God, we're in a season of waiting. We're unsure of what steps we should take. We believe God has a plan to grow our family, but there is paperwork and costs and we're at a point of wanting to evaluate what {if anything ...} we should do.

After almost a full week of Spring Break, I haven't gotten as many projects done as I had hoped, but I've really enjoyed my kids. Seems like I got the better end of that. I also picked up a freelance writing job.

Sometimes we're in the before waiting for the after. And other days we're appreciating the after. Both the before and after are necessary for this journey through life.


STOP.

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 and encourage them in their comments. That is like the one rule we all really care about.

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{Out of the Blue} From shyness to confidence

14 months old in 1980

When I was a kid, my shy personality prompted me to play a hide-and-seek game, ducking in the next aisle, when I saw someone I knew. It’s not because I didn’t like them, but I worried that they wouldn’t recognize me or notice me and I’d have to strike up a conversation.

My mom will tell you stories about me hanging onto her leg – literally – like I thought she could shield me from the world. There were these grocery store incidents and the days I didn’t want to walk out onto the gymnastic mat by myself.

{Why I thought pursuing gymnastics was a good idea remains a mystery. I'm not exactly small, thanks to half my genes coming from a former football lineman. But, hey, Mom was a good sport this way.}

I don’t really know when I grew out of the shyness. It was a process that happened as I found my voice in writing in high school and college. Regardless, I’m thankful I don’t usually want to cling to my mom’s leg now that I’m a grown-up girl with kids of my own.

Even so, the people who knew me when haven’t forgotten.

In 2007, my central Kentucky friends threw me {and my newborn adopted daughter Cate} a shower. My friends and family took turns sharing a memory. Yes, this kind of thing still makes me nervous. Maybe that’s just the shyness slipping back into existence.

When it was my mom’s turn at this baby shower when I was 28 year old, she reminisced about my shy days. I think she still likes to talk about it, but that’s OK because she always gets around to how I’ve grown up and grown out of that tendency: “Kristin was so shy as a kid. She didn’t speak to people and hung on my leg. But then she grew up and become a journalist. Can you believe it? She calls people who don’t want to talk to her.”

Indeed I’m not shy anymore. At least not like that little-girl shy. You still won't find me in front of a big crowd speaking into a microphone. And while I’m raising a girl who is so much like me, I’m thankful she’s not shy. She’s the kid that talks to strangers when we grocery shop and has to be reminded to tell me good-bye before she gets out of the car at school.

The morale of the story is sometimes people will surprise you. My mom finds joy in me gaining enough confidence to move beyond her leg and be the reporter on the other end of the interview. Clearly I found something better to do with my life than become a gymnast.

So journalist-turned-momma it is.
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I'm linking up with Kristen's "Out of the Blue" series about surprises at Chasing Blue Skies. Read about other surprises in my life here. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Or follow me on Twitter and Instagram.

{Compassion} Make him smile

I was scrolling through the Compassion International profiles of kids who still need sponsors. Four-year-old Pedro caught my eye. He's an adorable boy from Brazil, but he's frowning.

That sweet face needs a smile.

And then after I clicked on him to be the one I encourage you to consider sponsoring, I realized he and I share a birthday!

I'm telling you, God is in the details. I was drawn in by his sweet face that needs a smile and it turns out he'll turn 5 the same day {a month from today!} that I turn 34.

For a $38 tax-deductible, monthly donation, Pedro will be connected to a church-based program that provides:

• Food and clean water
• Medical care
• Educational opportunities
• Important life-skills training

Most important of all, Pedro will hear about Jesus Christ and be encouraged to develop a lifelong relationship with God. {To sponsor Pedro, visit my Compassion page.} When you sponsor a child, whether its Pedro or someone else who tugs at your heart, you'll receive his/her photo, personal story and a child sponsorship packet by mail in about two weeks.

Honestly, I can't imagine the joy the children feel when they learn they've been sponsored. It's bound to be better than being picked for a kick ball team in elementary school. You've chosen a kid and that little life will never be the same.

And, you know what, you won't be the same either. The words translated in the letters they send are real. Their stories and prayers and dreams are real. The money you give provides a better life and the letters you return provides a new relationship that points them to Jesus.

You can read more about Pedro and why my family sponsors three other children here. April 21 is Compassion Sunday, when congregations across the country will hear more about this sponsorship program and have a chance to select other children to sponsor. You can learn more about that here.
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{God-sized Dreams} Love the Lord, Love your neighbor

Easter 2013.

We are going to see the two thieves that hung on crosses on Calvary next to Jesus in heaven.

And you know what? They weren't baptized. They didn't tithe. They didn't teach Sunday school or volunteer in the hundreds of other ways churches need. They didn't set out to share the gospel.

But you know what else? We get to. We get to make public expressions of our faith. We get to give away our money, time and talents. We get to tell about how Jesus saved us. We get to bring glory to God here on earth.

I'm not much for theological debates. But lately I've found myself wondering how some people can believe one thing about baptism and other congregations hold fast to another practice. I was baptized as an infant, became a Christian in high school, was baptized in college, and have heard so many different ways this symbolic dunking {or sprinkling ...} has happened in others' lives. Honestly, I was discouraged last week about this topic.

But then when I was watching a pageant about Jesus' life, I realized those thieves weren't even baptized because they chose to follow Jesus to his Father in the final moments of their life. And Jesus said they would be in paradise with him.

It may be a simple faith, but in that moment I remembered these rules and practices about baptism {or substitute another theological divisive issue} doesn't matter. To debate can distract me from the glory of God. I fell victim to an internal debate last week that wasn't even necessary. It caused tears, an over-reaction, and an argument with my husband and then stole the joy I should have expressed.

In this week's dream post, Holley Gerth asks this:

We’ve talked a lot about "what" your dream is and now it’s time to tackle the "why" behind it. Why is your dream worth pursuing, fighting for and seeing through no matter what happens? 

I dream of writing and promoting while embracing God as the author of it all. I dream of adopting again. And I dream of being a wife and mom first before the tasks that clutter my to-do list.

That's the what.

But why?

It's all worth it because Jesus died on a cross and invited the neighboring criminals to heaven with him. Those of us who have already decided to follow Jesus to His Father have a chance to make that news known.

We can give and share and dream. We can discuss and debate and then walk away friends because it's not really about us anyway. We can learn and grown as we're perfected through our experiences.

We can decide how to make God known in our everyday lives. 

Maybe that means being dunked in water. Maybe that means raising your hands to songs that express thoughts you hadn't put into words yet. Maybe that means giving away money, spending your time helping others, or volunteering at a food pantry. Maybe that means writing a book.

The plans {read: dreams} God has for our lives vary because he created us each to be unique. Seek the creator and author of it all and you'll find where he wants you to do what he has called you to do. And where you are won't look just like where your parents, your best friend, those moms you admire, and your neighbor are.

But in whatever we do, we should come back to what Jesus called the greatest commandment: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: "Love your neighbor as yourself." {Matthew 22:34-40}

That should be the why for all the whats in our lives. 
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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.

I'm also linking up with Soli Deo Gloria Party at Finding Heaven Today. 

{Edited on Wednesday, April 3} I was going to write a new post for #TellHisStory that Jennifer Dukes Lee hosts for storytellers, but I decided to link this post. It's one of those I wrote for myself as much as anyone reading it, so I want to soak it up a little longer. Plus, really, doesn't that picture of those sweet kinds walking to plant daffodil bulbs just scream "Spring"? 

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{Cara Box} Alliterative Fun

I'm a fan of alliteration.

So when Kaitlyn said she was accepting suggestions for Cara Box themes, I offered up mine: Goodies that begin with the same initial as your partner's name. I was matched with Kaela and Mandy. I sent Kaela a box and Mandy sent me a box.

My box arrived a little late, but, you know how the saying goes: Better late than never. Mandy did a good job incorporating items that start with K and T into the box she sent me.

K & Company scrapbook products, tabs that will totally help my love of organization, kolaches recipe, and Kool-Aid Play-Doh recipe with a couple packets of Kool-Aid. Want to see the goodies?

I actually had to buy K products too. Here is a peek at what I sent Kaela ...

She likes sports {conveniently my home state and one of its teams begins with K}, has been cooking more {hence the kitchen utensils}, and likes road trips and commutes {Mat Kearney has good traveling tunes}. And who doesn't like notecards and chocolate?! You can check out her blog post here.
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I'm linking up with Kaitlyn at Wifessionals, where the Cara Box exchange was born. See other bloggers reveal their boxes. Read my February Cara Box post. Want more? Subscribe to get "Insights" in your inbox. Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Or follow me on Twitter and Instagram.