You know what hurts? Unrequited love.
I remember my first experience with that kind of hurt happened in third grade.
(haha! I actually just snorted laughing at how ridiculous that is! Oh heavens.)
Derek Simper.
He cared more about baseball at recess than he did about marrying me.
(actually I'm not even sure he knew who I was in the third grade. so, in all fairness maybe he WOULD have wanted to marry me if we had, in fact, been properly introduced.)
(see? this is why I blog. I wasn't expecting to make peace with that this morning, at yet here I am.)
Anyways.
It really hurt.
I wanted him to want to talk to me and chase me at recess and think I had pretty hair and tell me my backpack was cool.
He did none of those things. (rude.)
Lest you think that youthful experience with unrequited love was a solitary one confined only to my elementary school years...pick any of my older sister's boyfriends and I promise I felt that with them (except for the few that I ended up dating after her. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just was totally incapable of originality as a teenager? Maybe I just didn't trust my own judgement, so I just decided to like whoever she did? I'm not sure haha but I'm sure it was insanely annoying to her! Sorry, Nik!).
College was the same. Lots of dudes I liked didn't like me.
(who are these men?! did they even have eyeballs in college?!)
You know what I WASN'T expecting, though..?
The weirdness that is loving your children more than they love you.
Especially when that weirdness comes as a result of blending a family.
I had kind of hoped that my earlier blog on this subject would be the beginning and end of my need to talk to about this. Like the summer would just resolve all of the issues involved and it would be put to rest forever and we'd be seamlessly blended by the time the school year started again.
Wouldn't that have been lovely?
I think so, too.
Last week one of the kids was chatting with Violet and the conversation turned to wishing things were the way they were before.
'Before' meaning...before we were a family.
I wasn't there for the convo, so I can't say for certain what exactly was said...but the overall sentiment was that things were somehow better before.
(for clarity's sake: we just had a baby a few weeks ago and everyone is exhausted and running on fumes. I get why this conversation would be coming out in light of how the last month or so has gone. new babies mean the older kids don't get as much attention or exciting parent time...because the parents are usually in survival mode.)
Even knowing all of that ↑, though...hearing that the kids somehow prefer the way that it used to be over how awesome it is now? It made my chest hurt.
I get it. I really do. But it still really, really hurt.
It made me wish for time to fast forward ten years. In ten years from now, we'll have been a family for almost 11 years! Whoa! Hopefully I won't be blogging blogs on this subject anymore (enter nervous smiley emoji with the sweat drop on forehead). We'll have our oldest heading off the college (oooooook I had to take a break for a minute to cry postpartum hormonal tears of sadness thinking about the fourth grader leaving...), and Ava will be rioiweohtoheghuehoeiowiowrqiqhqh
Ok I can't type about how big our kids will be in 10 years because I'm crying too much and I have to finish this blog before Ava needs to eat again.
YOU GET THE PICTURE.
In ten years we'll have had a lot of time to BE together as a family.
But how do I make sure my heart doesn't hurt so much in the next few years of blending that I close off..? Sometimes it feels like I WANT to close off...step back somehow. Protect myself from the uncomfortable comments and unintentionally hurtful comparisons.
I'm not the way that it was. I'm the way it is now.
...and that's hard sometimes - for all of us.
****
When I first found out I was pregnant, I thought about canceling my Time Out for Women/Girls event in Sacramento this last weekend. I knew I'd have a five week old, and that I would be recovering from a c-section (and that recovering from my first c-section was an absolute nightmare). As I prayed about it, though, I felt like everything would be ok...that I should still do it.
I didn't feel particularly nervous about it until a few weeks ago when Ava first came. I looked and felt like I'd been hit by a bus and I wasn't particularly excited about getting up on stage in that condition haha. Again I prayed - and again I felt reassurance that everything would be ok...so I packed up my babe and husband and headed to CA on Friday morning.
The event was wonderful. I only missed my cues to be on stage twice (ha! ugh!!) (in my defense, I was nursing backstage for the second one and was truly caught off guard. my bad, guys.) and even though I was so, unbelievably tired, I felt so grateful to be back. Time Out feels like home in so many ways to me now - and I didn't realize how badly I needed to connect with that feeling.
As I was mulling all of the blending-family/unrequited-love-issues over in my head this morning, I thought of Time Out for Women this weekend in Sacramento. I thought about standing on that stage in front of hundreds of girls (and thousands of women) and testifying that our worth lies in who we are - not what we do (or don't do). I thought about testifying about God's timing...that our hurts and pains and struggles are meant to SANCTIFY us, to perfect us...not to destroy us.
And then I thought about Elder Boyd K Packer teaching us that "a testimony is...found in the bearing of it."
I suddenly felt like my being at Time Out was just for me this weekend. I needed to remember those things. I needed to reconnect with that testimony that I learned and earned through years of struggle and questioning.
Even when I want my kids to love me as much as I love them - to want me and choose me and love me...but they don't? I still have (and will always have) God's love - and that is more than enough. It's ok for them to take their time. It's ok for it to not happen all at once. I am worthy of love, I am good enough, I am loved and seen and known by a God who chooses me every single day.
Even when the struggle of learning how to be a mom to all of my kiddos and this new baby (and try to continue building relationships with new family members and maintain relationships with my original family members and friends and callings and etc etc) feels overwhelming and like I'm failing WAY more than I'm succeeding...
Even when the weight of that failure feels heavy and I want to run away...
Even when all of those things are true/present - I believe that God's timing is perfect, and that all of these things are working together for my good (Romans 8:28).
The hurt? The struggle? It doesn't have to have a quick, easy resolution.
I know how to handle struggle.
And I bet you do, too.
****
I'm putting this blog out in to the universe today because I needed to remember something I already knew. I was forgetting to connect with what I'd already knew; and remembering feels like taking a breath of fresh air. So...maybe...hopefully...reading this will make you take a second to ask yourself what it is that YOU might need to reconnect with. What are the truths you have already learned in your life (that maybe you've forgotten) that could help you face your challenges today?
Sometimes all we want is to see the light at the end of the tunnel, right? To know the end of the struggle is coming soon?
I once read something really profound about the light at the end of the tunnel and wanted to leave it here at the end of this blog to wrap things up (so I googled it, duh). Before I found it, though, I came across these gems that I want to share first:
-The light at the end of the tunnel isn't an illusion; the tunnel is.
-The light at the end of the tunnel is your life; it's the tunnel that's temporary.
-I stopped waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel and lit it up myself.
and my favorite:
-The light at the end of the tunnel might be an oncoming train.
(hahahaha just dark enough without being tooooo dark, right? ...right, guys..? ...guys?)
When I finally DID find the quote - I realized it actually doesn't reference a tunnel at all (oops) but it's still awesome:
"I'm not waiting for the sun to shine; the light, it comes from within me." - xan oku
Remember what you know.
Remember that the light comes from within you (a gift from God) when you find yourself in that deep, dark tunnel.
Stay strong, my friends. Have the best Monday. ♡
Monday, September 10, 2018
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Outrun the Rain
Writing a song is an interesting thing.
I wrote Outrun the Rain as a prospective track for my second album - What Heaven Feels Like. It got cut in the final rounds of track choices and I was super sad about it. (I was thrilled when I pitched it for Believer and it made it all the way to the album!)
For anyone who doesn't remember what that phase of my life was like (when I was writing for What Heaven Feels Like): I was living in a tiny duplex with my ex-husband who was working two dead-end jobs and hating every moment of it. We were living paycheck to paycheck with a newborn who never slept, was sick and screamed constantly. I remember feeling so stuck...my marriage was struggling, my baby was struggling, and it felt like my life was one, endless string of challenges with no ending in sight.
My team at Deseret Book had listened to my first round of demos and came back with the critique that I needed to focus on writing "happier, more upbeat" music haha.
I cried after that phone call.
I didn't feel happy or upbeat at that point in my life. I felt tired...so, unbelievably tired...in my body, my heart...my spirit.
I just wanted reprieve. I wanted rest. I wanted someone to come and tell me it was all going to work out and everything would be just fine - because I really couldn't see how that was possible.
(I wasn't wrong, either...I mean, things got a lot messier and harder before they got better. But I digress.)
As I sat up one night with Violet - who back then hardly ever slept (I wish I were exaggerating right now) - I felt such a desperation for sunrise. When morning came everyday, I could ask for help. I could call someone; I could feel more like a human instead of driving myself insane searching the internet for ways to calm my poor screaming baby all night long. I desperately, desperately wished and prayed for sunrise.
But it didn't matter HOW HARD I wished for the morning to come, though...it would only come when it was time. I couldn't rush it. I couldn't make it happen a moment sooner or later, not with all the prayers and wishing in the world.
That's how this song came into existence. As I considered the metaphor behind my prayers for light to come, the imagery for the first verse came into my mind:
You can't rush the sunrise....
The brilliant color through the grey.
No matter how you ache for light...
You can't rush the sunrise.
I remember feeling quiet when I wrote that. I wouldn't say that I felt defeated...but I felt resolved. I felt certain that God was going to keep handing me difficult things until I learned whatever lesson it was that He was trying to teach me. A part of me had decided to stop fighting against life - I didn't want to feel frustrated and confused anymore. I felt acceptance - a sort of "Thy will be done" mentality permeated my heart.
The chorus came to me next:
You can't outrun the rain...
So lift your arms open wide.
Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain...
You can't outrun the rain.
(have you guys noticed that I write a lot of songs about/with water?? It's interesting that water can drown things, take life away...but it also GIVES life, it makes things grow. It cleanses, purifies, shapes even the hardest materials. Anyways. Water is cool. The end.)
I knew in my heart that there was no easy way out of the storm I was facing in my life right then. There was no easy path.
In my mind, I could see my heart being polished like a stone in a river. I could see myself standing in a torrential downpour with my face turned heavenward and my arms outstretched in complete acceptance of God's will in my life. The acceptance wouldn't take the pain away, I knew...but it would turn that pain into something useful...something helpful, positive even.
The rest of the words came less immediately than those two pieces of the song did. They took work to carve out of my mind/heart. The last verse came as a prayer...something I wish so deeply to believe more fervently:
So push through the ache...
Light waits around the bend.
He'll give more than He'll ever take,
so trust in His time, my friend.
Just trust in His time, my friend.
The 'friend' I was referring to was actually me. The last verse was written as a reminder to myself that I want to have hope that God makes things right; that He blesses us beyond measure in His own time...even when it's hard to keep that hope alive.
For what it's worth...for anyone who is currently in the middle of an emotional/spiritual hurricane in life...after many years of struggle and prayer and waiting, I can testify that I've seen God in action when it comes to compensatory blessings. I don't just HOPE that God will bless me beyond what I can even imagine - I'm living it. I am living proof that God hears prayers in His own time, and can reach down and help us change our lives. There is a plan. There is a path. It can take a LONG time for everything to fall into place...but oh, when it does...the happiness is almost indescribable.
I'm not saying my life is perfect - it's crazy and wild and unexpected and full of surprises (good and some not-as-good). What I AM saying, though, is that I finally feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, sharing my life with who I'm meant to share it with, doing what I'm meant to be doing.
Jon always tells me that I'm 'refined' (haha stop laughing! anyone who knows me personally is imagining me telling fart jokes and laughing at YouTube videos of cats running into sliding glass doors. #superrefined) I think what he means is that the last decade of struggle wasn't a waste. He can see and feel the benefit of how those challenges shaped my heart; how they changed the way I think, the way I feel, the way I am. I'm so grateful for a partner who chooses to see the best in me - as imperfect as I am.
Ultimately, Outrun the Rain is a song about hope - and finding peace in the midst of our storms, instead of continually running away from them.
Here are the lyrics:
You can't rush the sunrise
The brilliant color through the grey
No matter how you ache for light
You can't rush the sunrise
The waves crash when they will
You can't keep stars in the sky
You try to stop them but
They will still - come
Crashing down when they will
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wide
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
Cold and winter they come
Deaf to summer's dying cries
For good or ill, we pray for the sun
But cold and winter still come
We beg for time to stand still
Or plead for time to fly
But eons past and future pass
In perfect time til
The One who created time wills
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
So push through the ache
Light waits around the bend
He'll give more than He'll ever take
So trust in His time, my friend
Just trust in His time, my friend
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
xo.
Want to watch the lyric video?
Here you go:
I wrote Outrun the Rain as a prospective track for my second album - What Heaven Feels Like. It got cut in the final rounds of track choices and I was super sad about it. (I was thrilled when I pitched it for Believer and it made it all the way to the album!)
For anyone who doesn't remember what that phase of my life was like (when I was writing for What Heaven Feels Like): I was living in a tiny duplex with my ex-husband who was working two dead-end jobs and hating every moment of it. We were living paycheck to paycheck with a newborn who never slept, was sick and screamed constantly. I remember feeling so stuck...my marriage was struggling, my baby was struggling, and it felt like my life was one, endless string of challenges with no ending in sight.
My team at Deseret Book had listened to my first round of demos and came back with the critique that I needed to focus on writing "happier, more upbeat" music haha.
I cried after that phone call.
I didn't feel happy or upbeat at that point in my life. I felt tired...so, unbelievably tired...in my body, my heart...my spirit.
I just wanted reprieve. I wanted rest. I wanted someone to come and tell me it was all going to work out and everything would be just fine - because I really couldn't see how that was possible.
(I wasn't wrong, either...I mean, things got a lot messier and harder before they got better. But I digress.)
As I sat up one night with Violet - who back then hardly ever slept (I wish I were exaggerating right now) - I felt such a desperation for sunrise. When morning came everyday, I could ask for help. I could call someone; I could feel more like a human instead of driving myself insane searching the internet for ways to calm my poor screaming baby all night long. I desperately, desperately wished and prayed for sunrise.
But it didn't matter HOW HARD I wished for the morning to come, though...it would only come when it was time. I couldn't rush it. I couldn't make it happen a moment sooner or later, not with all the prayers and wishing in the world.
That's how this song came into existence. As I considered the metaphor behind my prayers for light to come, the imagery for the first verse came into my mind:
You can't rush the sunrise....
The brilliant color through the grey.
No matter how you ache for light...
You can't rush the sunrise.
I remember feeling quiet when I wrote that. I wouldn't say that I felt defeated...but I felt resolved. I felt certain that God was going to keep handing me difficult things until I learned whatever lesson it was that He was trying to teach me. A part of me had decided to stop fighting against life - I didn't want to feel frustrated and confused anymore. I felt acceptance - a sort of "Thy will be done" mentality permeated my heart.
The chorus came to me next:
You can't outrun the rain...
So lift your arms open wide.
Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain...
You can't outrun the rain.
(have you guys noticed that I write a lot of songs about/with water?? It's interesting that water can drown things, take life away...but it also GIVES life, it makes things grow. It cleanses, purifies, shapes even the hardest materials. Anyways. Water is cool. The end.)
I knew in my heart that there was no easy way out of the storm I was facing in my life right then. There was no easy path.
In my mind, I could see my heart being polished like a stone in a river. I could see myself standing in a torrential downpour with my face turned heavenward and my arms outstretched in complete acceptance of God's will in my life. The acceptance wouldn't take the pain away, I knew...but it would turn that pain into something useful...something helpful, positive even.
The rest of the words came less immediately than those two pieces of the song did. They took work to carve out of my mind/heart. The last verse came as a prayer...something I wish so deeply to believe more fervently:
So push through the ache...
Light waits around the bend.
He'll give more than He'll ever take,
so trust in His time, my friend.
Just trust in His time, my friend.
The 'friend' I was referring to was actually me. The last verse was written as a reminder to myself that I want to have hope that God makes things right; that He blesses us beyond measure in His own time...even when it's hard to keep that hope alive.
For what it's worth...for anyone who is currently in the middle of an emotional/spiritual hurricane in life...after many years of struggle and prayer and waiting, I can testify that I've seen God in action when it comes to compensatory blessings. I don't just HOPE that God will bless me beyond what I can even imagine - I'm living it. I am living proof that God hears prayers in His own time, and can reach down and help us change our lives. There is a plan. There is a path. It can take a LONG time for everything to fall into place...but oh, when it does...the happiness is almost indescribable.
I'm not saying my life is perfect - it's crazy and wild and unexpected and full of surprises (good and some not-as-good). What I AM saying, though, is that I finally feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, sharing my life with who I'm meant to share it with, doing what I'm meant to be doing.
Jon always tells me that I'm 'refined' (haha stop laughing! anyone who knows me personally is imagining me telling fart jokes and laughing at YouTube videos of cats running into sliding glass doors. #superrefined) I think what he means is that the last decade of struggle wasn't a waste. He can see and feel the benefit of how those challenges shaped my heart; how they changed the way I think, the way I feel, the way I am. I'm so grateful for a partner who chooses to see the best in me - as imperfect as I am.
Ultimately, Outrun the Rain is a song about hope - and finding peace in the midst of our storms, instead of continually running away from them.
Here are the lyrics:
You can't rush the sunrise
The brilliant color through the grey
No matter how you ache for light
You can't rush the sunrise
The waves crash when they will
You can't keep stars in the sky
You try to stop them but
They will still - come
Crashing down when they will
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wide
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
Cold and winter they come
Deaf to summer's dying cries
For good or ill, we pray for the sun
But cold and winter still come
We beg for time to stand still
Or plead for time to fly
But eons past and future pass
In perfect time til
The One who created time wills
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
So push through the ache
Light waits around the bend
He'll give more than He'll ever take
So trust in His time, my friend
Just trust in His time, my friend
You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain
xo.
Want to watch the lyric video?
Here you go:
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Broken and Beautiful
That, my friends, just won't do!!
So here they are.
(the story behind the song is below the lyrics...)
(the story behind the song is below the lyrics...)
Broken and Beautiful
Calee Reed and Aaron Edson
When the light shines through me
All the broken pieces
Reflect His light
It's a beautiful sight
All the scars and spaces
Where the battles hurt me
Let more light in
Flood me with Him
You may see
Flaws in me
I'm not perfect
But I was never meant to be
Keep your view
of your perfect world
I was never meant to be that girl...
Broken
And I am beautiful
He'll use each piece
To make a masterpiece
From the ashes
He's creating me
I'm broken
Broken and beautiful
Every shade and color
All fit together
Each break designed
With me in mind
Every brilliant facet
Tells a different story
In every broken dream
His love is seen
Keep your view
of your perfect world
I was never meant to be that girl...
Broken
And I am beautiful
He'll use each piece
To make a masterpiece
From the ashes
He's creating me
I'm broken
Broken and beautiful
I'll give Him what's left of my shattered heart
He'll piece it together brand new
And each empty space that was damaged and dark
Will light up with His love and truth
Yes, that's what His healing can do...
Broken and I am beautiful
He'll use each piece
To make a masterpiece
From the ashes
He's creating me
I'm broken
Broken and beautiful
I wrote this song with Aaron Edson - the same person who produced The Waiting Place. Besides being fabulously talented, he's been through his fair share of difficulties...and I knew that sitting down with him to write a song about brokenness would yield something great.
We played around with several ideas - but kept coming back to brokenness being a beautiful thing. Stained glass was a big part of that conversation - the facets and colors and each piece of glass contributing something different and beautiful to the piece as a whole. In my mind, I could see myself sitting in a sacred space...a church, maybe...with light streaming through beautiful pieces of stained glass all around me. That mental image transformed into ME being the glass...and Christ's light streaming through all of my brokenness to reveal something glorious and whole. Not broken at all.
As a person who has spent a decent amount of time feeling broken over the last decade, the idea that God's love and plan could ultimately make a masterpiece of all of my chipped pieces and emtpy spaces feels a little unreachable sometimes. I truly believe, though, that none of us were ever MEANT to get through this life without breaking at least a little. We are MEANT to be molded, changed...and if it takes breaking to get to the place where God can create something different - more, better - out of us, then so be it.
I'm sure most of you have seen the reference to kintsugi in the music video already, but in case you haven't:
kintsugi: (Noun) To repair with gold; The art of repairing metal with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.
As I discussed the treatment for the music video with my Deseret Book team, the parallel between kintsugi and Christ's atonement (being the gold that fills all of our brokenness and holds us together) was so powerful that we couldn't see any better way to illustrate the message behind the song.
I am so grateful for all of the artistic, wonderful people who helped create the song and video...from beginning to end it was truly a labor of love.
To all of my friends who are out there spending this season of your life feeling broken...consider for a moment that maybe God hasn't abandoned you. His intention isn't to leave you as a pile of rubble and broken dreams. He is CREATING you from the ashes. He has a plan. Work hard to understand what that plan is. Be patient as He shows you where the pieces go. Believe that He loves you enough to turn all of your messes into a masterpiece. And if you forget and feel discouraged? I wrote this song to help you remember :)
xo.
Monday, June 4, 2018
"...but what if I don't like the plan?"
Most of you know that the man I married last year is a widower.
I haven't gotten into the details of how and where and when with all of you lovely humans for a few different reasons. It isn't my story to tell, number one. Number two, I have a limit to HOW open I get with my life (haha shocking, right?? I have boundaries?! who knew?!).
Anyways.
I've done my best to provide a safe emotional space for the kids concerning that loss. I know what it feels like to lose your Mom...and it sucks. If they want to talk about it? Let's. If they don't want to? Let's not. Want to cry? Ok. Want to share funny memories? Cool. Whatever comes out that day, let's just roll with it and let it be.
Losing my Mom sucked as an adult - an adult who could understand the details of how bodies and cancer work, an adult who could process grief and loss and emotionally brace myself for the high probability of losing her.
Experiencing that kind of loss as a kid??? The shock? The inability to understand the logistics of how this thing even happened? I can't even imagine.
Last week one of my bonus babes sat me down in tears. Big, heartbroken tears. She asked me why. Why did Mommy have to die? I sat there on the bed and felt distinctly like I was floating outside of my body for a moment. Am I really sitting here having this conversation with this child? What do I even say? How do I explain this when I haven't made total peace with my own loss?
I said a silent prayer that the words God wanted me to speak would come out...and that if they didn't/couldn't, that He would communicate in unspoken peace to her heart.
We talked for a long, long time.
I shared some of my feelings about my own Mom. She shared some of hers. We talked about grief being a cycle...sometimes it feels ok, and sometimes it feels VERY NOT ok. We talked about crying and how that's healthy, and we talked about distracting ourselves from the grief and how that can be ok, too.
At the end of it all, though, she still had the question...why?
I looked her square in the eyes and knew I couldn't lie to this kid.
"I don't know why...
...only God does."
Her emotional response told me that this was not the answer she was looking for.
Bear your testimony, came the thought into my head.
About what?? I don't know enough to say anything?? I responded to the voice in my own head.
Bear your testimony, the thought came again.
I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and these words came tumbling out:
"You know what I do know? I know that God loves us more than anything...and that means that when sad or scary things happen to us - there's a reason. There's a plan."
She thought about that for a moment. "But," she said through her tears,"...what if I don't like the plan?"
I have to admit that I laughed when she said that.
"I get it," I said. "I haven't always liked the plan, either."
We talked for a few more minutes before she suddenly transitioned into chatting about school and summer and things she wants to do when the weather is sunny everyday. She bounced out of the room and it was like nothing ever happened.
*******
Fast forward to today.
I was sitting on a chair outside watching the kids on the trampoline.
The two year old came and sat on my lap.
"Mama! MAMA!" she yelled over and over again.
I was trying to listen to another kid who was telling me a story from the trampoline.
"Hang on, baby." I told her.
"CALEEEEEEE!" she squealed as she grabbed my cheeks and forced my face to look at her's.
I laughed and pulled her hands away. One of the twin boys came and sat next to me.
"She doesn't call you 'Mama' because of our other Mom. She remembers her. We show her pictures at Grandma's house and tell her that's her real Mom," he offered matter-of-factly.
My heart jumped clear up into my throat and I choked a little bit on the emotion. It felt like someone had sucker-punched me right in the stomach.
"Oh? Ok." I managed to say.
I took a deep breath and acknowledged that I had heard the rest of the story from the kid on the trampoline. I then turned my attention to the toddler who was halfway through telling me a story at a mile a minute.
I suddenly felt so tired. I tried my best to answer each child as they called out for me to watch them, or listen to their stories, or answer their questions...but I suddenly felt like a balloon that someone let all the air out of.
I thought about the late nights and early mornings transitioning that baby from crib to big girl bed. I thought of the messy snack times, the baths, the tantrums and endless kissing of ouchies. I thought about the hours Jon and I have spent talking and strategizing about each child and what they need and how to parent them the best way possible. I thought about teaching that littlest one how to talk, reading to her, singing her lullabies at night. I thought about the hard mornings with a grumpy two year old, the time outs (for me AND her haha), the negotiating shoes and clothes and yogurt flavors and nap times. I thought about all of the years of life ahead of me as a mother to not just her, but to all of those kids who were jumping happily on the trampoline. The endless school projects, worrying about whether our diets are healthy enough, praying for them at night and while they're away from me...the hours of conversation yet to be had about everything from grief to dating to the gospel to which college to choose.
I'm just the babysitter, I thought. I'll always just be their babysitter.
It isn't fair.
I chose them...and they might never choose me.
That thought brought hot, stinging tears to my eyes and I had to shift my mind away from it as quickly as possible so I didn't turn in to a huge mess right there in the back yard on the morning of the first official day of summer. Oh how that thought felt like a knife in my chest.
Then my mind shifted. I thought about the woman who carried these babies inside of her body the way I'm carrying this baby now. The way she must have worried about and loved and cared for these kids. The way she must have daydreamed about their lives and choices and who they'd grow up to be. I thought about the weight of that kind of love.
I thought about how unfair life must have felt for her as she contemplated her final few days and all of the life she was leaving behind.
"...but what if I don't like the plan..?" is the thought that came to my mind last. I could see that child's face in my mind - her big eyes full of tears.
"What if I don't like this plan..?" I thought.
I thought of what the Spirit had prompted me to share that day: "God loves us more than anything. There's a reason. There's a plan."
God loves us more than anything.
******
I'm sitting in my living room now. I'm surrounded by toys and clothes and groceries needing to be put away and hungry kids in the yard who are threatening to ransack the kitchen at any moment. The feeling of being so tired hasn't left yet. My heart feels weird and sad and I haven't decided yet whether I'm horrible and selfish or just human and figuring it all out. Maybe a combination? Haha. For the record, I don't really think I'm horrible. This is just really, REALLY hard sometimes and I don't know what on earth I'm doing most of the time except trying to love this family and be what they need and that, my friends, is a really tall order on some days.
I guess the point of this blog is to share some of the mess of my life...some of the unanswered questions - in case your life is a little messy, too, and it hurts and you feel alone. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are questions that other people have that they don't have all of the answers to. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are challenges and difficulties that follow other people around, too...that it isn't JUST you who can't figure everything out right this very second. That it's ok to only know that God loves us...and to not like the plan when it hurts.
******
For what it's worth, I do believe that God loves us more than anything - and even when that doesn't fix all of my problems or take all of the pain away, it does give me hope that someday He will make it all ok; that someday things will make sense.
If you're struggling with intense things, maybe start there...start with a testimony of God's love for you and see if it doesn't make all the difference.
xo.
I haven't gotten into the details of how and where and when with all of you lovely humans for a few different reasons. It isn't my story to tell, number one. Number two, I have a limit to HOW open I get with my life (haha shocking, right?? I have boundaries?! who knew?!).
Anyways.
I've done my best to provide a safe emotional space for the kids concerning that loss. I know what it feels like to lose your Mom...and it sucks. If they want to talk about it? Let's. If they don't want to? Let's not. Want to cry? Ok. Want to share funny memories? Cool. Whatever comes out that day, let's just roll with it and let it be.
Losing my Mom sucked as an adult - an adult who could understand the details of how bodies and cancer work, an adult who could process grief and loss and emotionally brace myself for the high probability of losing her.
Experiencing that kind of loss as a kid??? The shock? The inability to understand the logistics of how this thing even happened? I can't even imagine.
Last week one of my bonus babes sat me down in tears. Big, heartbroken tears. She asked me why. Why did Mommy have to die? I sat there on the bed and felt distinctly like I was floating outside of my body for a moment. Am I really sitting here having this conversation with this child? What do I even say? How do I explain this when I haven't made total peace with my own loss?
I said a silent prayer that the words God wanted me to speak would come out...and that if they didn't/couldn't, that He would communicate in unspoken peace to her heart.
We talked for a long, long time.
I shared some of my feelings about my own Mom. She shared some of hers. We talked about grief being a cycle...sometimes it feels ok, and sometimes it feels VERY NOT ok. We talked about crying and how that's healthy, and we talked about distracting ourselves from the grief and how that can be ok, too.
At the end of it all, though, she still had the question...why?
I looked her square in the eyes and knew I couldn't lie to this kid.
"I don't know why...
...only God does."
Her emotional response told me that this was not the answer she was looking for.
Bear your testimony, came the thought into my head.
About what?? I don't know enough to say anything?? I responded to the voice in my own head.
Bear your testimony, the thought came again.
I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and these words came tumbling out:
"You know what I do know? I know that God loves us more than anything...and that means that when sad or scary things happen to us - there's a reason. There's a plan."
She thought about that for a moment. "But," she said through her tears,"...what if I don't like the plan?"
I have to admit that I laughed when she said that.
"I get it," I said. "I haven't always liked the plan, either."
We talked for a few more minutes before she suddenly transitioned into chatting about school and summer and things she wants to do when the weather is sunny everyday. She bounced out of the room and it was like nothing ever happened.
*******
Fast forward to today.
I was sitting on a chair outside watching the kids on the trampoline.
The two year old came and sat on my lap.
"Mama! MAMA!" she yelled over and over again.
I was trying to listen to another kid who was telling me a story from the trampoline.
"Hang on, baby." I told her.
"CALEEEEEEE!" she squealed as she grabbed my cheeks and forced my face to look at her's.
I laughed and pulled her hands away. One of the twin boys came and sat next to me.
"She doesn't call you 'Mama' because of our other Mom. She remembers her. We show her pictures at Grandma's house and tell her that's her real Mom," he offered matter-of-factly.
My heart jumped clear up into my throat and I choked a little bit on the emotion. It felt like someone had sucker-punched me right in the stomach.
"Oh? Ok." I managed to say.
I took a deep breath and acknowledged that I had heard the rest of the story from the kid on the trampoline. I then turned my attention to the toddler who was halfway through telling me a story at a mile a minute.
I suddenly felt so tired. I tried my best to answer each child as they called out for me to watch them, or listen to their stories, or answer their questions...but I suddenly felt like a balloon that someone let all the air out of.
I thought about the late nights and early mornings transitioning that baby from crib to big girl bed. I thought of the messy snack times, the baths, the tantrums and endless kissing of ouchies. I thought about the hours Jon and I have spent talking and strategizing about each child and what they need and how to parent them the best way possible. I thought about teaching that littlest one how to talk, reading to her, singing her lullabies at night. I thought about the hard mornings with a grumpy two year old, the time outs (for me AND her haha), the negotiating shoes and clothes and yogurt flavors and nap times. I thought about all of the years of life ahead of me as a mother to not just her, but to all of those kids who were jumping happily on the trampoline. The endless school projects, worrying about whether our diets are healthy enough, praying for them at night and while they're away from me...the hours of conversation yet to be had about everything from grief to dating to the gospel to which college to choose.
I'm just the babysitter, I thought. I'll always just be their babysitter.
It isn't fair.
I chose them...and they might never choose me.
That thought brought hot, stinging tears to my eyes and I had to shift my mind away from it as quickly as possible so I didn't turn in to a huge mess right there in the back yard on the morning of the first official day of summer. Oh how that thought felt like a knife in my chest.
Then my mind shifted. I thought about the woman who carried these babies inside of her body the way I'm carrying this baby now. The way she must have worried about and loved and cared for these kids. The way she must have daydreamed about their lives and choices and who they'd grow up to be. I thought about the weight of that kind of love.
I thought about how unfair life must have felt for her as she contemplated her final few days and all of the life she was leaving behind.
"...but what if I don't like the plan..?" is the thought that came to my mind last. I could see that child's face in my mind - her big eyes full of tears.
"What if I don't like this plan..?" I thought.
I thought of what the Spirit had prompted me to share that day: "God loves us more than anything. There's a reason. There's a plan."
God loves us more than anything.
******
I'm sitting in my living room now. I'm surrounded by toys and clothes and groceries needing to be put away and hungry kids in the yard who are threatening to ransack the kitchen at any moment. The feeling of being so tired hasn't left yet. My heart feels weird and sad and I haven't decided yet whether I'm horrible and selfish or just human and figuring it all out. Maybe a combination? Haha. For the record, I don't really think I'm horrible. This is just really, REALLY hard sometimes and I don't know what on earth I'm doing most of the time except trying to love this family and be what they need and that, my friends, is a really tall order on some days.
I guess the point of this blog is to share some of the mess of my life...some of the unanswered questions - in case your life is a little messy, too, and it hurts and you feel alone. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are questions that other people have that they don't have all of the answers to. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are challenges and difficulties that follow other people around, too...that it isn't JUST you who can't figure everything out right this very second. That it's ok to only know that God loves us...and to not like the plan when it hurts.
******
For what it's worth, I do believe that God loves us more than anything - and even when that doesn't fix all of my problems or take all of the pain away, it does give me hope that someday He will make it all ok; that someday things will make sense.
If you're struggling with intense things, maybe start there...start with a testimony of God's love for you and see if it doesn't make all the difference.
xo.
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Mother's Day
I'm awake and can hear my multiple children running around the living room and kitchen.
I looked across our bedroom and noticed a new, beautiful gardenia bloom just opened on my potted gardenia near the window. Gardenia's were always my Mom's favorite, and having one growing in my house always makes me think of her and smile. I miss her this morning.
My husband told me to stay in bed (he usually gets up with the kids because morning is the best sleep time for pregnant-leg-cramping-Calee) (and also because he's an actual angel masquerading as a regular human). "Don't get up!" he insisted as he walked out into the fray.
It took me a minute to remember that today is Mother's Day.
I know what the kids are doing in the kitchen, and why I need to stay in bed. They're making me breakfast in bed and I'll ruin it if I get up.
I know because they've told me that's what they always did for their Mom who lives in heaven now on Mother's Day.
My heart hurts.
My heart hurts because I love them and knowing that they might be hurting this morning hurts me.
I know that they love another Mom - a Mom who I've heard endless stories about. It's so bizarre that there is a huge part of their life that I was absent for, because I feel so connected here. Like we've always been together.
But we haven't.
I think of all of the other stepmoms/bonus moms that I know. I wonder how many of them are hurting this morning...I think about the sacrifice that is letting new children have your whole heart, while knowing that you'll never be able to have 100% of their's. Don't get me wrong - there is SO much joy, too. So much. I never considered the painful part, though...at least not until I felt it for myself.
I think of the adopted moms that I know. I think about their struggles...I think about that kind of mothering experience. I imagine it's a lot like building the connection that I have with my bonus kids...only their kids might not understand what love even is. These kids have no concept of a family. Permanence. Stability. There are so many foundational pieces to put into place before deep connectivity is even a possibility.
I think about the decade I spent wishing I were married and had children. I think about watching everyone I knew announce relationships and engagements and marriages and babies. I remember when one of the girls I used to babysit announced her engagement. It was like salt in an open wound. I think of the women my age (and older) that I know personally (or who I've met at events) who are in that space...just...waiting. Searching. Praying. Feeling the sting today.
I recently read a quote by Sheri Dew that I feel like I should share:
"Of all the words they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve "the mother of all living" - and they did so before she ever bore a child. Like Eve, our motherhood began before we were born." -Sheri Dew (Are We Not All Mothers?)
(This talk is incredible and everyone should read it, btw.)
I'm running out of time before I have to run to speak in a sacrament meeting in Bountiful. Don't get me started on feeling like a bad Mom this morning...it's my first Mother's Day with my new kids and I totally spaced the MOTHERS DAY PROGRAM in church that's happening today. So I'll be missing it. Yes. Missing our very first one. Because I committed months ago to speaking in another ward that meets at the same time as ours. I may or may not have cried a little bit when I realized. They cried, too. I feel awful. Happy Mother's Day.
So! QUICKLY BEFORE I HAVE TO LEAVE AND THE REST OF THIS BLOG NEVER HAPPENS:
I want to put it out into the universe that I believe Sheri Dew is right. I believe that as women, we are each called to motherhood - even if the maternity part of motherhood doesn't happen to us in this life.
"While we tend to equate motherhood solely with maternity, in the Lord's language, the word 'mother' has layers of meaning. Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us. Some of us, then, must find simply find other ways to mother. And all around us those who need to be loved and led." Sheri Dew
As a testament to that truth...I want to share that one of the best mothers I've ever known is a woman who was never able to have children of her own. She lived through years of grief, struggling to understand the why. You know what, though? She didn't let that heartbreak stop her from developing her own divine characteristics of motherhood. She learned to serve, to love deeply, to give of herself wholly.
That woman is now who my children will grow up calling Grandma. She chose to take on a whole slew of adult stepchildren - including myself - and grandbabies when she married my Dad after Mom passed away.
She stepped up.
She didn't let the fact that her calling to motherhood looked different than she expected stop her from being an incredible mother.
I've experienced the power of unconventional mothers in so many aspects of my life since Mom died. I've needed Mom so deeply...through my divorce, trying to figure out my first baby. Heavens, I need her now to figure out ALL of these babies haha.
I am so, eternally grateful for the women in my life who have stepped up to mother me in her absence.
Some have had their own kids, some haven't.
ALL of them have fulfilled roles as mothers to me in my life.
So...here's a shout out to YOU, my beloved mothers. Some of you conventional, some of you not.
I believe this day is for all of us. Today is for my Moms who are in the trenches of motherhood...sleepless nights, poopy diapers or struggling adult children, stress and schedules and exhaustion.
AND it is also for my sweet sisters with no babies (who aren't married, or struggle with infertility), to my friends who have chosen to not have children, for my empty-nesting-mothers, my fellow bonus Moms, adoptive mothers, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbors who don't fit the mold of "ideal" motherhood.
We are ALL mothers. All of us.
I love you. Happy Mother's Day.
xo.
I looked across our bedroom and noticed a new, beautiful gardenia bloom just opened on my potted gardenia near the window. Gardenia's were always my Mom's favorite, and having one growing in my house always makes me think of her and smile. I miss her this morning.
My husband told me to stay in bed (he usually gets up with the kids because morning is the best sleep time for pregnant-leg-cramping-Calee) (and also because he's an actual angel masquerading as a regular human). "Don't get up!" he insisted as he walked out into the fray.
It took me a minute to remember that today is Mother's Day.
I know what the kids are doing in the kitchen, and why I need to stay in bed. They're making me breakfast in bed and I'll ruin it if I get up.
I know because they've told me that's what they always did for their Mom who lives in heaven now on Mother's Day.
My heart hurts.
My heart hurts because I love them and knowing that they might be hurting this morning hurts me.
I know that they love another Mom - a Mom who I've heard endless stories about. It's so bizarre that there is a huge part of their life that I was absent for, because I feel so connected here. Like we've always been together.
But we haven't.
I think of all of the other stepmoms/bonus moms that I know. I wonder how many of them are hurting this morning...I think about the sacrifice that is letting new children have your whole heart, while knowing that you'll never be able to have 100% of their's. Don't get me wrong - there is SO much joy, too. So much. I never considered the painful part, though...at least not until I felt it for myself.
I think of the adopted moms that I know. I think about their struggles...I think about that kind of mothering experience. I imagine it's a lot like building the connection that I have with my bonus kids...only their kids might not understand what love even is. These kids have no concept of a family. Permanence. Stability. There are so many foundational pieces to put into place before deep connectivity is even a possibility.
I think about the decade I spent wishing I were married and had children. I think about watching everyone I knew announce relationships and engagements and marriages and babies. I remember when one of the girls I used to babysit announced her engagement. It was like salt in an open wound. I think of the women my age (and older) that I know personally (or who I've met at events) who are in that space...just...waiting. Searching. Praying. Feeling the sting today.
I recently read a quote by Sheri Dew that I feel like I should share:
"Of all the words they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve "the mother of all living" - and they did so before she ever bore a child. Like Eve, our motherhood began before we were born." -Sheri Dew (Are We Not All Mothers?)
(This talk is incredible and everyone should read it, btw.)
I'm running out of time before I have to run to speak in a sacrament meeting in Bountiful. Don't get me started on feeling like a bad Mom this morning...it's my first Mother's Day with my new kids and I totally spaced the MOTHERS DAY PROGRAM in church that's happening today. So I'll be missing it. Yes. Missing our very first one. Because I committed months ago to speaking in another ward that meets at the same time as ours. I may or may not have cried a little bit when I realized. They cried, too. I feel awful. Happy Mother's Day.
So! QUICKLY BEFORE I HAVE TO LEAVE AND THE REST OF THIS BLOG NEVER HAPPENS:
I want to put it out into the universe that I believe Sheri Dew is right. I believe that as women, we are each called to motherhood - even if the maternity part of motherhood doesn't happen to us in this life.
"While we tend to equate motherhood solely with maternity, in the Lord's language, the word 'mother' has layers of meaning. Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us. Some of us, then, must find simply find other ways to mother. And all around us those who need to be loved and led." Sheri Dew
As a testament to that truth...I want to share that one of the best mothers I've ever known is a woman who was never able to have children of her own. She lived through years of grief, struggling to understand the why. You know what, though? She didn't let that heartbreak stop her from developing her own divine characteristics of motherhood. She learned to serve, to love deeply, to give of herself wholly.
That woman is now who my children will grow up calling Grandma. She chose to take on a whole slew of adult stepchildren - including myself - and grandbabies when she married my Dad after Mom passed away.
She stepped up.
She didn't let the fact that her calling to motherhood looked different than she expected stop her from being an incredible mother.
I've experienced the power of unconventional mothers in so many aspects of my life since Mom died. I've needed Mom so deeply...through my divorce, trying to figure out my first baby. Heavens, I need her now to figure out ALL of these babies haha.
I am so, eternally grateful for the women in my life who have stepped up to mother me in her absence.
Some have had their own kids, some haven't.
ALL of them have fulfilled roles as mothers to me in my life.
So...here's a shout out to YOU, my beloved mothers. Some of you conventional, some of you not.
I believe this day is for all of us. Today is for my Moms who are in the trenches of motherhood...sleepless nights, poopy diapers or struggling adult children, stress and schedules and exhaustion.
AND it is also for my sweet sisters with no babies (who aren't married, or struggle with infertility), to my friends who have chosen to not have children, for my empty-nesting-mothers, my fellow bonus Moms, adoptive mothers, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbors who don't fit the mold of "ideal" motherhood.
We are ALL mothers. All of us.
I love you. Happy Mother's Day.
xo.
Monday, May 7, 2018
My Picky Eaters Ate This. You're Welcome.
Finding something my boys will eat is a real challenge sometimes.
I'm not sure what traumatic experience they had in their early development, but a dinner consisting of anything other than corndogs and Kraft mac n cheese sends them into hysterics.
It's difficult, y'all.
(Ok that's a little dramatic, but it feels like that's reality like 90% of the time)
(I'm done Mom-whining)
(...for now...)
Here's the link to the yummiest meatloaf recipe: CLICK ME!
Notes:
*I sprayed a cupcake tin with Pam and made mini-meatloafs because when food is cute sometimes it entices my kids to eat better (??). The cook time was the same. Deliiiiiiicious.
*I also added a half tsp of onion powder and garlic powder. Next time I'd skip the onion powder!
I made it with glazed carrots (super easy!):
(I can't find the recipe I used now...and I don't have time to hunt. SO!)
1. Fill a pot with 1/2" of water and bring to a boil
2. Turn heat to med/low (simmer) and cover
3. Dump a bag of baby carrots in (I peeled a half pound of regular old carrots and cut them into small pieces)
4. Add 1 tsp salt and 1 TBS of brown sugar
5. Let carrots cook 7-8 minutes covered
6. Uncover and bring heat to high. Let boil until water reduces to a sugary glaze (about 10 more minutes).
**these are super easy and delicious!
Good luck with all of your dinner endeavors, my friends. My thoughts and prayers are with you!
xoxo
I'm not sure what traumatic experience they had in their early development, but a dinner consisting of anything other than corndogs and Kraft mac n cheese sends them into hysterics.
It's difficult, y'all.
(Ok that's a little dramatic, but it feels like that's reality like 90% of the time)
(I'm done Mom-whining)
(...for now...)
Here's the link to the yummiest meatloaf recipe: CLICK ME!
Notes:
*I sprayed a cupcake tin with Pam and made mini-meatloafs because when food is cute sometimes it entices my kids to eat better (??). The cook time was the same. Deliiiiiiicious.
*I also added a half tsp of onion powder and garlic powder. Next time I'd skip the onion powder!
I made it with glazed carrots (super easy!):
(I can't find the recipe I used now...and I don't have time to hunt. SO!)
1. Fill a pot with 1/2" of water and bring to a boil
2. Turn heat to med/low (simmer) and cover
3. Dump a bag of baby carrots in (I peeled a half pound of regular old carrots and cut them into small pieces)
4. Add 1 tsp salt and 1 TBS of brown sugar
5. Let carrots cook 7-8 minutes covered
6. Uncover and bring heat to high. Let boil until water reduces to a sugary glaze (about 10 more minutes).
**these are super easy and delicious!
Good luck with all of your dinner endeavors, my friends. My thoughts and prayers are with you!
xoxo
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Believer
I was flying home from Time Out in Spokane, WA in Spring of 2014 when I wrote the first set of lyrics for Believer. I recently found a picture of the actual TOFG journal I was writing in on that airplane:
I don't think it was coincidental that the title of the page is "God's Plan For You" with Proverbs 3:6 beneath it. Vi was turning 1 and was smack dab in the middle of her battle with reflux with no relief in sight for the constant night wakings/screaming. My marriage was on the rocks and I didn't know how to deal with it or talk about it...I wasn't sure how much of our struggle I should share (even with my closest family and/or friends). I had just spent the weekend feeling spiritually fed and uplifted and happy, and was now on my way back home to the battlefield...and I felt so tired about it. Have you ever felt like that..?
There are certain things I've always known. I feel like I've always known that God is real. Even when I struggled believing it when Mom was so sick with cancer, I just always knew. I think that's a part of what made everything during that time so horrible, you know? I knew God could fix it...He just didn't. He wouldn't.
Another thing I think I've always known is that God loves us...which has often left me asking,"Why?"
"Why is this so hard?" ←I'm not talking about normal, everyday kind of hard. Not the kind of hard that makes you frustrated and upset for a few days or weeks. The kind of hard that doesn't have a foreseeable end. The kind of hard that just goes on and on and on. Why is life THAT hard sometimes..?
*or*
"Why is this happening to me?"
"When will it get easier?"
"How do I get through this without becoming bitter and jaded and a crazy, nightmare mess of a human?"
I get that God needs us to be refined, you know? Trials and challenges push and stretch and shape us into better people (ideally). I get that pain and hurt can do that for us. But knowing that's true, and allowing that knowledge to comfort you while things are painful and awful are two very different things.
As I sat there on that airplane, I thought about the things that I knew(/know) and wondered how I could get that knowledge to relieve more of my pain...I wondered how I could get my faith to swoop in and save me when I found myself and my baby awake, delirious and miserable at 11pm, 12:15am, 1am, 3am, 4:30am, 5:00am. Every.Single. Night.
I wondered how I could fight the urge to blame all of my marital struggles on my husband or our circumstances...how my belief in charity and patience could change from things I felt in my heart to words that came out of my mouth in the middle of hurtful arguments. How my faith could go from theory to reality, you know?
Ultimately, I thought about the kind of believer I wished that I were. I thought about Peter having the faith to step out onto the waves and walk on water to the Savior. That's the kind of belief I wanted to have; enough to walk on water. Enough faith that it would manifest clearly in my life.
I thought about how the scriptures talk about having even a tiny mustard seed of faith - and how even THAT amount of faith would allow us to move mountains. I wished I were more steadfast...less prone to moments of doubt and weakness in the face of hardship. I wished I didn't fight against the struggle and pain so much...I wished it were easier for me to accept life's disappointments.
Those thoughts tumbled around until they came out as a clear set of lyrics - the chorus of what is now the title track of the new album - "Believer". If you look at the journal pic above, you'll see that there were basically no edits in the original lyrics. They just came out that way and stuck in my brain for three years until I sat down with Stephen Nelson (of Gentri) and Anji Mickelson to flesh out the rest of the lyrics and song structure.
I'm so glad that Stephen and Anji saw such potential in that one set of words...so grateful that they felt the power and vulnerability there. I love the message that doubt and fear and pain can motivate us to come closer to God...that we can't fully let God in when we shut those things out of our hearts and minds.
I wonder how many of you reading this are in that space right now; facing challenges that seem to be never ending. I wonder if you've found yourself asking these same things? I hope that if that's you...if that's where you are...that you listen to this song and know that you aren't alone. We all need help believing sometimes. Every, single one of us.
Believer
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Feel the things You feel for me
When the feeling doesn't stay
Help me to see the things I don't want to see
As Your hand showing me
Help me Lord, I pray
O, Lord
Help me believe
Give place to the voice that always questions
Give voice to the pain, the fear, the doubt
Give way to the moments I am faithless
I can't let You in if I shut them out
Help me to be the believe that I want to be
Give the things You've given me
The words You'd have me say
Help me to walk this path that You've set for me
Help me walk with steady feed
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
O, Lord
Help me believe
PS want to watch a clip from the Q&A from that same TOFG event?? and marvel at my hair transformation over the last four years 🤣?? here you go: click me!
I don't think it was coincidental that the title of the page is "God's Plan For You" with Proverbs 3:6 beneath it. Vi was turning 1 and was smack dab in the middle of her battle with reflux with no relief in sight for the constant night wakings/screaming. My marriage was on the rocks and I didn't know how to deal with it or talk about it...I wasn't sure how much of our struggle I should share (even with my closest family and/or friends). I had just spent the weekend feeling spiritually fed and uplifted and happy, and was now on my way back home to the battlefield...and I felt so tired about it. Have you ever felt like that..?
There are certain things I've always known. I feel like I've always known that God is real. Even when I struggled believing it when Mom was so sick with cancer, I just always knew. I think that's a part of what made everything during that time so horrible, you know? I knew God could fix it...He just didn't. He wouldn't.
Another thing I think I've always known is that God loves us...which has often left me asking,"Why?"
"Why is this so hard?" ←I'm not talking about normal, everyday kind of hard. Not the kind of hard that makes you frustrated and upset for a few days or weeks. The kind of hard that doesn't have a foreseeable end. The kind of hard that just goes on and on and on. Why is life THAT hard sometimes..?
*or*
"Why is this happening to me?"
"When will it get easier?"
"How do I get through this without becoming bitter and jaded and a crazy, nightmare mess of a human?"
I get that God needs us to be refined, you know? Trials and challenges push and stretch and shape us into better people (ideally). I get that pain and hurt can do that for us. But knowing that's true, and allowing that knowledge to comfort you while things are painful and awful are two very different things.
As I sat there on that airplane, I thought about the things that I knew(/know) and wondered how I could get that knowledge to relieve more of my pain...I wondered how I could get my faith to swoop in and save me when I found myself and my baby awake, delirious and miserable at 11pm, 12:15am, 1am, 3am, 4:30am, 5:00am. Every.Single. Night.
I wondered how I could fight the urge to blame all of my marital struggles on my husband or our circumstances...how my belief in charity and patience could change from things I felt in my heart to words that came out of my mouth in the middle of hurtful arguments. How my faith could go from theory to reality, you know?
Ultimately, I thought about the kind of believer I wished that I were. I thought about Peter having the faith to step out onto the waves and walk on water to the Savior. That's the kind of belief I wanted to have; enough to walk on water. Enough faith that it would manifest clearly in my life.
I thought about how the scriptures talk about having even a tiny mustard seed of faith - and how even THAT amount of faith would allow us to move mountains. I wished I were more steadfast...less prone to moments of doubt and weakness in the face of hardship. I wished I didn't fight against the struggle and pain so much...I wished it were easier for me to accept life's disappointments.
Those thoughts tumbled around until they came out as a clear set of lyrics - the chorus of what is now the title track of the new album - "Believer". If you look at the journal pic above, you'll see that there were basically no edits in the original lyrics. They just came out that way and stuck in my brain for three years until I sat down with Stephen Nelson (of Gentri) and Anji Mickelson to flesh out the rest of the lyrics and song structure.
I'm so glad that Stephen and Anji saw such potential in that one set of words...so grateful that they felt the power and vulnerability there. I love the message that doubt and fear and pain can motivate us to come closer to God...that we can't fully let God in when we shut those things out of our hearts and minds.
I wonder how many of you reading this are in that space right now; facing challenges that seem to be never ending. I wonder if you've found yourself asking these same things? I hope that if that's you...if that's where you are...that you listen to this song and know that you aren't alone. We all need help believing sometimes. Every, single one of us.
Believer
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Feel the things You feel for me
When the feeling doesn't stay
Help me to see the things I don't want to see
As Your hand showing me
Help me Lord, I pray
O, Lord
Help me believe
Give place to the voice that always questions
Give voice to the pain, the fear, the doubt
Give way to the moments I am faithless
I can't let You in if I shut them out
Help me to be the believe that I want to be
Give the things You've given me
The words You'd have me say
Help me to walk this path that You've set for me
Help me walk with steady feed
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe
Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
O, Lord
Help me believe
PS want to watch a clip from the Q&A from that same TOFG event?? and marvel at my hair transformation over the last four years 🤣?? here you go: click me!