"Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life's cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another you have only an extemporaneous half possession." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friday, July 5, 2013

A Journey to Motherhood

"Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world." - John 16:21

Today, I laid peacefully in my bed, next to my napping husband, as I began to read the book "Jesus Is ____" by Judah Smith. This, of course, was after I checked Facebook, Instagram and my Sims Freeplay game several hundred times to confirm and re-confirm that there was literally nothing else I could do to distract me from reading. Needless to say, I was suppose to read this book about a month ago.

A good ways into my reading, I felt the strangest thing from my now protruding mid-section that, yet again, distracted me from my failing attempt at being productive. Not having ever felt this before, I began to imagine that the small person in my stomach learned a new trick. Like my unborn child started his own band in my uterus and was now practicing the timing for his very first song.

Regardless of how intriguing the idea of my womb-bound child being a musical savant was, reality quickly set in, along with panic. My major issue being that I had no idea what was going on inside of my body. So, when in doubt I did what most reasonable adults would do. I Googled it. What I found was even more awesome than my first idea. I was experiencing fetal hiccups for the very first time in my pregnancy, which feels something like a heartbeat.

As I held my stomach, I felt the the rhythmic movements of my son's first "hiccups" and fell into complete awe. As if it isn't amazing enough that there is a baby in there, there is a baby that gets the hiccups!

Unsure of how long it is suppose to last, I grew fearful. In addition to his hiccups lasting for a minute or two, I began to feel him kick and shift around sporadically. Not that his movements are ever not sporadic. At that  moment it seemed to be a rational cause for concern. The thought suddenly dawned on me that he could be afraid. My only solution at that time was to play something soothing for him.

That is when it happened. Although, I tried to reason with myself. All reason was drowned out by me feeling helpless. In my mind, all I could think of was that my baby was potentially scared and there was nothing I could do to help him. This was a feeling worse than heartbreak. I felt so foolish even feeling that way, but I couldn't help but think of how I'm suppose to protect him and I can't. By the time the song ended, the hiccups were gone and the baby was mostly still. I could still feel him shifting but his movements were less abrupt.

My husband attempted to comfort me but most of me felt embarrassed that I even had that moment. It occurred to me that some of my feelings were pregnancy induced, but the rest of them was apart of a journey to motherhood.

An hour or so later, I told one of his God Mothers that I needed to tell her this story. I told her it was silly but she listened anyway. When I was done, we laughed a little, but she told me that she still worries about her daughter. She told me that the best thing I could do was teach my son who really protects him. I don't know if she knows how powerful that was to hear, but it was POWERFUL. She said to tell him that God protects him and as his parents we will try to keep him safe, but his hope should be in God. She then took it a step further and said that my husband and I should "live it out." We should be an example of what it looks like to trust God.

So, one of my first lessons in motherhood is "Do Not Panic. . . Just Trust." That, I can do.

Thank God for wise counsel.

Think Happy Thoughts :)

Saturday, June 15, 2013

My Love Redeemed

"Love is the way back into Eden. It is the way back to life." - Francine Rivers, Redeeming Love

The other day I was watching a movie where Cicely Tyson's character described a timeless love with her late husband that struck a serious cord in my heart. She happens to be one of my favorite women in the world to hear speak about anything, but something about this monologue challenged me to question my ability to love without limitations.

In discussing this with my best friend, we reminisced on how crazy in "love" we were in our youth. Everything was so dramatic. We laughed about our fist loves and how we thought we could never live with out them. . . but did. We talked about past heartbreaks and how we thought we'd never love again. . . but did. Everything was so "extra."

So "extra," in fact, that I completely denounced passion. I came to the conclusion that the only way to love is through a mental decision to love unconditionally. Of course I still believe that there is someone God has designed for you. Yet, passion was considered to be an irrational emotion that was tied to immaturity.

My best friend and I agreed that we became jaded by failed attempts to be passionately in love. We also agreed that it was something to work back to with the person you choose to share your life with. I want to be able to say that I loved hard and whole-heartedly. Not to say, that I'm not in love now, but I can tell that there are still places in my heart that are guarded from past hurts. Still times, that I close myself off in memory  of lingering pains.

Then comes the moment that changed my whole perspective. I talked to my husband and I asked him, "Do you find that you love less passionately than the first time you ever loved?" He paused for all of two seconds and said, "No. I feel that I love more passionately each time, because I know that I don't want to loose it." This completely threw me for a loop. So, you love harder, knowing how it feels to loose love!? What kind of sense does that make!?

Why would anyone love harder after being hurt? It seemed to make perfect sense to loose your passion to love after love lost, but to gain passion? That just blew my mind.

I fell in love with him a lot more in that moment. It reminds me of the way that God loves us. Passionately enough to die on a cross for people that curse him as he did it, knowing how many times we will hurt him and still making the decision to give up his life for us. If that is not passionate love, I don't know what is? I couldn't imagine choosing to love someone passionately and unconditionally, knowing the pain they will cause me in the end. Also, knowing that some of them will never love me.

Yet and still. . . love never fails.

All this to say. I vow to challenge myself everyday to love passionately and wholeheartedly, like it was the first time I ever loved. The truth of the matter is I survived my past to get to my present. A present that I don't always feel I deserve. I owe it to my husband, children, family, and friends to love them like I've never loved before.

Eat. Pray. Let your love be redeemed. 

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

What If It Were Me. . .

"Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness. Listen to it carefully." - Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

What if it were me? That was all I could think, as I left the apartment of my old friend. A friend who is currently struggling with brain cancer.

What if it were me who could no longer  walk without help from a wheelchair or walker. What if it were me who lost my ability to speak or write without difficulty. What if it were me whose life changed in an instant and something so far from my mind, like my ability to live past the day, was now all I could think of. What if it were me.

Variations of these thoughts plagued me, as I cried, yelled, and fell into pity and helplessness. Frustration came from the desperate thoughts that if no one would support my friend, who would support me? Who would run to my side and help me fight an enemy that seems so much bigger than me. What if it were me.

How could they not help him, I thought. What if it were them!? Then I thought, Well, maybe they never think it will be and maybe they're right. Maybe it never will be them or their close friend, or their mother, or their child who has to face something like this. So why is this my motivation? Why am I motivated by the fear that not fighting for my friend equates to no one fighting for me.

How selfish am I!? How could I honestly sit and feel sorry for myself, while my friend is facing one of the biggest challenges of his life!?

When I started to help with his fundraiser, I just wanted to help. I wanted to help just because he needed it. As I became involved in fundraising, I was astonished at how little people seemed to be moved by his story. Even with the simple things, like following a page on social media or giving up a meal at McDonald's to donate $5. I felt like I was pulling teeth to even get help administratively. My thoughts gradually changed from wanting to help to feeling like I had to help. I felt like somehow not helping would be reciprocated in my life at one low point or another. Like not reaching our goal meant we somehow failed ourselves.What a terrible way to think.

I believe we should help someone, when we can, because we can. Not because we're storing up good deeds for a rainy day. We should help because we genuinely care if another person survives or not. 

I love my friend and I'm sorry my mind switched to self-preservation in his time of need. Regardless of whether I ever get cancer or have to fight for my life, I will fight for his. It doesn't matter if it "could be" me, when it is him right now. Our goal is big but we will continue to work towards it. . . for Brandon.

God is still working on me and I don't believe he's done with my friend either :)

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Love unconditionally | Laugh until you can't any longer | Live life to the best of your ability ;)