Life These Days, And Hello Again!

This poor Something Ivory has gotten a bit of neglect these last few weeks but today is Friday! (I always feel inspired on Fridays.) And I wanted to check in and post a little update.

First of all, though I never thought I'd be one of the many writers/bloggers to ever say this, I think that Instagram has begun to replace my blogging in some ways. I almost always spend more time crafting the caption than taking the photo and I see it as a chance to tell a little story. When we were abroad our friend Jim asked midway through the trip if I'd blogged yet. I answered no, I hadn't, but that I'd started to think of each of my Instagram photos/captions as a mini blog post. Not everyone uses Instagram like this but I love trying to thoughtfully share real glimpses of my life this way.

Even though I haven't been blogging I've still been writing privately. To be frank, there is something in this season of my life that I'm struggling with deeply and that is too personal to blog about (for me, anyway). But there are many days where I wake up and can't imagine writing about anything else. So I write privately.

In better, kinder news, my life as a business owner/freelance artist/teacher/musician has taken off! I now have close to 15 students in my private studio. I've developed friendships and partnerships with several other young professional musicians and I can tell you, few things are more fun than playing music with your friends. And then gabbing about life over lunch. The best.

A few months ago I was asked to take on the role as vice president of the Charlottesville Music Teacher's Association which made every introverted muscle in my body tense up. I took a day to think about it, then gulped and said yes and it is now my job to plan each of our group's monthly programs for the whole year. We're going to Skype with an expert on performance anxiety, I've invited a soprano and a pianist from UVA to perform some German art songs for us and one of our own members will run a discussion on studio policies and practices. (Among many other things!) This has been enormously fun for me and a huge honor. And time-consuming! More writing emails and less writing blog posts. :)

This time in my life–personally and professionally and inwardly and outwardly–is one of change and growth. It's one where I feel quite proud of myself at times and at other times feel completely raw and vulnerable. Sometimes I'm confident and other times I doubt myself. I have made several incredible, close friends here in the last year. I'm learning how to do adult female friendship well and I'm so thankful for this gift. I feel fulfilled by my musical life and so sure that I'm in the right line of work. I also have realized that we are very much not in control and that we must take every blessing and every hardship alike to God. My prayer life has deepened necessarily.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that life these days is both harder than ever and more beautiful than ever. Is it possible that both could be true? I'm learning that yes, I think so. There's a rare sort of beauty that is found in suffering. And everything else, it's made lovelier by comparison. Glory be to God for this not-so-small miracle.

On Making Your Own Adventures

Last week at the end of the day on Friday, I was feeling weird and restless. It had been a full and productive week and I was in the mood to do something but was having a hard time coming up with a fun thing to do that didn't cost money. We're trying very hard these days to be conscious of our spending--in general but also in anticipation of our Japan trip--and at 4:00 on a Friday, the only ideas I could think of involved drinks or food.

What's a girl to do!?

I was getting mopey. My husband suggested I take a long walk and reminded me that fresh air always makes me feel better. I mulled this over. We talked about dinner. We had planned an indulgent Friday night dinner of hot dogs with some kale and brown rice on the side for health and balance. I told him we didn't have hot dog buns. Cue more mopiness on my part.

And then my husband (as he is apt to do) saved my afternoon. "Why don't you walk to that cute little food store near the park and buy us some hot dog buns?" 

Ok, I know that on the surface that doesn't sound like fun, or a very romantic suggestion on my husband's part. But the man knows me. This was exactly the adventure I needed. The store he was referring to is about a mile away from our house, a perfectly walkable distance, but in our town we are so used to jumping in the car when we need something that it wouldn't have occurred to me to hoof it.

"It'll feel like you're in New York." He knows I miss those days of walking 30 blocks without a second thought, my little bodegas where I used to pick up that one thing I was missing for dinner. The people-watching and buzz of life all around. They were little adventures.

It was a chilly day but I was already feeling my spirits lift so I bundled up, popped in ear buds and turned on my Radical Face Pandora station, grabbed a tote, and set out down the street.

The store didn't have hot dog buns.

As far as I was concerned, though, my Friday afternoon mission was completed. I was mopey no longer. I smiled to myself, thinking how funny it was that I had walked 20 minutes (one way) to buy hot dog buns at a store that doesn't carry hot dog buns. I bought some regular bread and a few ripe avocados and some lemon mint tea and began my trek home, red-cheeked and tingling and happy.

The hot dog buns were just the excuse anyway.

(Photo above is an adorable house I noticed while walking.)

Hand-Me-Downs From Mom

We're big on hand-me-downs in my family. I would say that more than half of what my husband and I own came from somebody else who used it first--parents, grandparents, friends, strangers (you know me and my thrift shops). I've never, as long as I can remember, resented hand-me-downs in the stereotypical way. I would even say I prefer them.

I'm sandwiched in between two brothers so as a kid I never had an older sister to bequeath me with all of her too-small clothes, but my mom always found a way to get me hand-me-downs despite this. I remember bags of clothes being dropped off by friends of the family who had slightly older girls, and this was always the most exciting thing. It helped that a lot of the clothes were totally stylish (my favorite were Gap hand-me-downs) and I loved sorting through everything and finding things I liked. It felt so special, like a big bag of presents had magically landed on my bedroom floor and it wasn't even Christmas or my birthday.

That feeling stuck with me and I remember a few years ago giving some tops and sweaters I no longer wore to a girl I babysat in New York. She didn't have any sisters either and her smile as she looked at the clothes and tried things on lit up the room. 

This tradition has carried me long into adulthood and some of my favorite things are hand-me-downs from my mom, things that she wore when she was my age. This Irish wool sweater is the warmest, most comforting sweater I own. My mom got it in the Aran Islands off the coast of Ireland when she was about 20 and wore it a ton throughout her 20s. It's still in the most beautiful shape and so classic--the warm beige wool, the knitted design, the leather cognac-colored buttons. I love getting it out each fall and winter (which I didn't do at all in Alabama, so I've missed it) and I love its comforting and meaningful history.

These adorable black leather mary janes were also my mom's and also from Ireland. They were handmade by a cobbler in Cork and my parents got them on a trip to Ireland when my brother and I were babies. My mom must have worn these a ton because I have the most vivid memories of her in them. When I wear them now, even the way they sound when I walk sometimes flashes me right back to my childhood. It's pretty amazing. The soles were quite worn so recently I took them to a cobbler and they put on new half-soles. The rest of the shoe is in pristine shape and I'm pretty sure they'll last long enough for me to pass them on to my daughter someday.

(Don't you just love that soft, crinkly aged leather?! I've always said it--old leather beats new leather every time.)

I just happened to be wearing both of these special heirlooms yesterday and I had my husband snap a photo so I could share these stories. Because what we wear really does tell a story and how wonderful is it to slip on a pair of shoes your mom wore when you were just a baby, or cozy up in a sweater that kept her warm on countless days? There's so much history wrapped up in these treasures and I'm a lucky gal to have them.

Thanks, Mom. :)

Over-Thinking Meets Trust

Yesterday, I was practicing a scale exercise (the kind of practicing that drives the other member of my family, whose office is directly below my studio, a little mad). The point of the exercise is to train your hands to switch from one pattern to another very quickly and it's surprisingly difficult to play it well.

As I was working my brain tuned out for a moment and I noticed that as a result I was playing much more cleanly and precisely than I had been when my mind was fully engaged, thinking about what came next, anticipating the next scale pattern. I had put in enough practice time that my fingers and hands knew the exercise better than my brain. I would even go so far as to say that my over-thinking mind was getting in the way.

I had to smile to myself when I realized that because, really, what's new? 

Wicked Yet Loved

“The gospel of justifying faith means that while Christians are, in themselves still sinful and sinning, yet in Christ, in God’s sight, they are accepted and righteous. So we can say that we are more wicked than we ever dared believe, but more loved and accepted in Christ than we ever dared hope—at the very same time. This creates a radical new dynamic for personal growth. It means that the more you see your own flaws and sins, the more precious, electrifying, and amazing God’s grace appears to you. But on the other hand, the more aware you are of God’s grace and acceptance in Christ, the more able you are to drop your denials and self-defenses and admit the true dimensions and character of your sin."

DIY Large Scale Photo Art

I've found that while my design and decor style definitely leans traditional in some ways, I also like making dramatic statements in my home. Not in a hot-pink-chairs, super-modern-art, bright-turquoise-walls kind of way, but in the sense that I don't shy away from a good dose of unusual, quirky, eclectic, or even daring when it comes to how I put together our home. My funky ideas don't always work (I have a post coming later in the week about a paint color that didn't at all turn out the way I thought it would i.e., it looked terrible) but when they do work, I always feel so happy that I made the less typical choice and went with something a little more interesting and unique.

Remembering This Summer

During college my summers were constructive and purposeful and memorable. My first summer after freshman year I went to a seven-week-long music festival in Western New York. The next summer I had an internship in DC, the next summer an internship in Hoboken, NJ. Each summer I was in a different place and with different people, accomplishing something unique and interesting for those few months in between school years.

In between my two years of grad school I was working hard on our cookbook with my family and planning my wedding at the same time. It was a beautiful summer filled with summer tomatoes and gorgeous recipes and lots of paper and ribbon and happiness.

Once there are no longer school years to divide and define, time starts blending together a little more, don't you think? It's not bad, just different. Other things make certain seasons or even months or weeks stick out in our memories. And I have a feeling that this summer, with its particular smells and moments and emotions, I think it'll be one that lasts and lasts.

I'll remember this summer for its joy. As we drove a short two and a half hours last weekend through the Blue Ridge Mountains and Northern Virginia's wine country up to a family reunion, I felt so much joy at finally being close to family. To be able to drive to see loved ones--amazing! This state, in all of its beauty, brings me joy and I'm proud to live in a place with history and old stone buildings that have been around for centuries and plaques on the side of the road that are fun to stop and read. Waking up in our sweet little house brings me joy. As long as my home is a place of beauty and peace and rest, a place where my family and friends feel safe and protected, a place filled with love and wholesomeness and honesty, then I've succeeded.

I'll remember this summer for our little screened porch. I catch myself sitting here and looking out at the trees with an involuntary smile on my lips. It's such a place of calm for me. I'll remember these summer mornings on the porch with a cup of tea and this blog and the birds and the streams of early sunlight peeking in. To have a place that is part of my home yet also a part of nature is magical.

I'll remember this summer for the ways God has proven faithful. These past few years were hard. I've sort of blocked out some of it but when I make myself remember how lonely some of those months were, it makes me exceedingly grateful for the here and now. The way forward was lit by faith alone.

As we grow deeper into our new lives and establish routines and build relationships, as it always happens, I'm sure a bit of the novelty and newness will wear off. Not that we'll take it for granted but there will be a settledness and a normalcy and a regularity to all of it. There's a beauty to this too.

But this time we're in right now, this summer of intensity and heart-swelling gratitude and deeply felt love of place and home and family and friends, I'll remember it for a very long time.

Family Heirlooms

We've only lived in this little house of ours for 26 days but when I walk through its rooms it doesn't feel new, it feels deep and familiar. My childhood nightstand fills a perfect little nook in the bathroom. The china cabinet that my Mom had in her home for her entire married life is in our kitchen, doing double duty as both a wonderful storage piece and a hundred-year-old work of art. The ivory keys that felt hours of practice by my much-younger hands are steps from where I sit, timeless and un-aged and loyal as ever.

The passing on of special things has always meant so much to me. I come from a family in which this is a very big tradition and I try to never take it for granted. How much more lovely it is to serve Christmas dinner on Grandma's Wedgwood china than anything new I could find! How wonderful to hang a painting in our home that was picked out by Dad as a gift for Mom. There's a history to the things that fill these rooms. These family gifts have helped make our house a home.

As a small thank-you to my parents I designed this card to send to them. I wanted to feature one of their hand-me-downs and this gorgeous pottery teacup is just so photogenic (despite my limited photography skills!).



Mom and Dad, we're so thankful! We love it all, down to every last teacup.



card c/o Treat

From 10 to 100

Moving from lower Alabama to Charlottesville has been like going from 10 to 100 in terms of all there is to do. So far I haven't been able to keep up with my own mental list of all the places I want to explore and the things on my summer list and the many great spots we've been told we must see/do/visit. It's incredible to be in a place with so much culture and history, so many cool restaurants and thrift shops, yoga classes and hiking areas, churches and parks and book clubs and everything else under the sun.

I'm also just now feeling a little more ready to begin marketing myself as a pianist and teacher now that the pianos are tuned and my studio feels more and more put together each day and the chaos of moving is beginning to calm down. I'm both excited and nervous about this. Basically, I'm trying to run a small business and when I think about it that way, in the most realistic terms, it can feel pretty overwhelming. But then I think about kids and parents knocking at the door each week and the feeling I get after a really productive lesson and what a blessing it is to teach what I'm passionate about. I do feel much more prepared now than I did fresh out of grad school, two years ago, so I guess my teaching experiences in Alabama seasoned me more than I realized. I have a much better handle on the "business" aspect of running a piano studio out of my home, and having a bit of extra self-confidence is everything.

All of this to say: I feel so stimulated and encouraged and awakened by our new surroundings. There isn't enough time in the day to do all I want to do! I need to remember that getting to know a new city and finding my place in it is a slow, patient process and that I shouldn't rush it. I'll gradually get to know the nooks and crannies and holes-in-the-wall in this cute little town of mine, and it'll get to know me.


p.s. On today's schedule: head to the library near the historic downtown area for some good books, buy ink at Staples so I can print business cards and my studio policy, and figure out where the nearest post office is.

p.s.s. Above is a little sneak peek of my piano room. I'm thinking of recruiting my brother to take photos of our house when he visits in August so I can do a real "house tour" on my blog! His photos will be a million times better than mine. 

We Made It

I am not a careless God. When I allow difficulties to come into your life, I equip you fully to handle them. 

There were times over the past two years when I actually believed this day might never come. The thought crossed my mind and it seemed entirely possible we'd be stuck in Alabama forever. I'm so happy to be proved wrong. Today I'm brimming with joy and relief and gladness because today, we're moving!!!

We made it. Over and over again, God has given me the grace I so desperately need. Wish us safe travels! Virginia, we can't wait.

(Quote above from the Jesus Calling app.)

26

I woke up today in the best way--to a cute card from my doting husband and a sweet email from my parents containing some adorable and funny childhood photos. It's my birthday! And I feel so very loved.

The movers are coming at 7:30 am on Monday so today we need to take care of a few important items like getting new military ID cards and checking in with the Army transportation office. But the rest of the day is wide open. I asked my husband to take me to see The Fault in Our Stars which arrived in theaters today. I read the book and liked it and I think a romantic chick flick is a perfect birthday treat. Then we're having dinner at our favorite local restaurant, which is always and every time phenomenal.

Simple and sweet, just how I like to celebrate.

Today is my mother-in-law's birthday too and I was hoping that this year we'd finally be able to meet for a birthday lunch, but we'll have to just have a belated one (she lives about an hour from our new home in Charlottesville). It's so much fun sharing our birthday!

Turning 26 isn't as momentous as turning 25, but today I'm feeling really happy and calm and so so so very grateful. God's blessings are rich and good and plentiful and I think this year will be a great one.

Body Image

This is a post I've been mulling over for awhile, trying to find the right words. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Image Source

Girls, and women, are notoriously concerned about how they look. Aren't we?

Of course, I'm guilty of this. I complain about breakouts and bad hair days and ask my husband to weigh in on my outfits to make sure they flatter my figure. I get self-conscious, I feel embarrassed about blemishes, I worry about how other people will perceive me. A lot of that is just being a normal human (or at least a normal woman) and can't really be helped too much. It's fairly innocuous and I don't think it's damaging to complain to a girlfriend about frizzy summer hair. (Although it's good to be self-aware and not get too vain about it.)

When this behavior becomes dangerous, however, is when we really start putting ourselves down, when we really start criticizing our own bodies. This has always bothered me and worried me. It upsets me to hear my friends complain about how they look if it's not something temporarily "abnormal," like a skin thing. When they complain about their legs or their stomach or their nose--it's sad and I always try to discourage it and tell them they're lovely as they are.

In this way (in endless ways, really) I'm so grateful for my mom. We learn so much about femininity and womanhood by watching our mothers, whether we are consciously doing it or absorbing it subliminally. I've seen a few things online recently that have made me think--"Wait! Stop! You're a grown woman, you're a mother. You can't be criticizing your body like that! If you're doing it, your daughters will." I feel so blessed because my mother was the absolute best example for me. She rarely wore makeup and had a very simple beauty routine, and she always looked (and looks) natural and feminine and pretty. She only just recently starting getting a bit of color in her hair and growing up, I never heard her put herself down and she never seemed to lack confidence about her appearance. She was and is happy in her skin, in her body, with what God blessed her with.

Most girls are predisposed to be critical toward the way they look. We need our mothers to be strong examples of what it means to be confident and accepting of our bodies. When we have children we need to be mothers who are that strong example.

Of course, I'm not suggesting we throw our cares to the wind and stop thinking about appearance altogether. I love feeling put together and I like my mascara and a touch of caramel in my hair every few months. The thing to remember, I think, is that these are only enhancements of our already-existing beauty. You don't "need" highlights because your natural hair color is "mousy"--if I had a nickel for each time I've heard that I would have a lot of nickels! Let's rebel against that. It's perfectly ok to get highlights, but they're just that. Highlights, refreshers, pick-me-ups. They don't make you beautiful.

(It goes without saying, I think, that staying fit is certainly important, but mostly because it's the healthy way to live and it will make you feel good and strong, not because it will make you look a certain way.)

You have only one body to take you through this life. You got it from your mom and your dad and it's brought you this far, hasn't it? Treat it well and appreciate it. It sustains you and can perform miracles and it's beautiful, believe me.

An Easy Choice

Tulips for Easter and Springtime and new beginnings

Finally, the cat's out of the bag! Thanks so much to my dear, sweet readers for being excited and happy with us! Charlottesville is a vibrant, wonderful little city and I'm pretty sure we're going to love it there.

These last two years in Alabama were very much not a part of our plan, as I'm sure you have gathered from my posts. We thought we would live here together as a married couple for three months, max, but it's been close to 24. We also thought we'd be in a very different situation by the time we left Alabama than we currently are. Life has surprised us.

But you know what I've learned? That this trying, frustrating, patience-testing, worry-filled, big unknown phase of our lives has been one enormous blessing in disguise. God had a plan for us and my husband and I both honestly believe that we are in a better place as a result of the chaos of the last few years (the details of which I won't get into here). If that isn't a praise-worthy revelation I don't know what is.

We are moving to Charlottesville because my husband got the unexpected opportunity to go back to school in order to pursue a career change (a career of the "dream" variety). We're moving there to be close to our families--my in-laws are a little over an hour away and my parents are a little over two hours away. We are moving there so that I might feel more stimulated artistically and creatively and hopefully grow as a musician and a teacher and a writer. We are moving to Charlottesville because it's a beautiful and interesting part of the country. Simply put, we like it there.

Last week we signed a lease on a cute house to rent and--get this--we did it all sight unseen! Something I wouldn't have imagined doing in a previous life but I guess I'm getting gutsy and learning to be flexible. To be fair, my mother went to see it and proclaimed it adorable and perfect for us. (Also, it has a red door and a screened porch. Sold.) We can't wait to see it and move in.

It's a wonderful feeling to have made this relocation decision together as a couple and to know that it is the right one for us. It was weird, sometime over this past summer I started to feel a pull to Virginia generally and Charlottesville specifically. As we thought about it more and more the decision pretty much made itself. It was an easy choice and after months of hard choices or too few choices, that felt great.

It goes without saying that there are still unknowns in our lives (there always will be) and issues to overcome (of course!) but we feel so hopeful for this new chapter and the changes it will bring.

(Not least of which is the happy reunion that will take place when I get to unpack the boxes filled with wedding gifts. I've had many a daydream about Grandma's china and our white embroidered pillowcases and our pretty dining room chairs.)

Spring Cleaning

A "just because it's gorgeous" photo for you

There's lots of busyness and logistics getting sorted out in the Harvey household these days. New phones and a new phone company (an actual human picks up on the first ring whenever I call customer service--we're totally sold!), decisions about moving and housing, and all kinds of future stuff. It feels like spring cleaning on a life level, if you know what I mean. Lots of new-and-improved, lots of goals, lots of change.

I'm trying to be really mindful in this season of my thoughts and my stress level and the way I'm dealing with all of this change. Because it's a lot! All good, but I really want to do it well and not become overwhelmed (whenever possible) and keep the important stuff at the forefront of my mind. This move will entail a lot of adjustments in our lifestyle and sometimes I put pressure on myself to make everything smooth and flawless and to do it all perfectly. The truth is, I don't really know exactly what our new lives will look like and that can be frightening. I have to remind myself that we will meet people and make friends, that I will find piano students, that I'll connect with the artists and creatives in our community, that we will make our home beautiful no matter what, that we will figure things out like we always do.

So I'm making it my mission to be mindful. When I first wake up, I remind myself to look at my husband next to me instead of jumping up to check my email. I'm taking a lot of walks and listening to pretty songs. I read my Jesus Calling app early in the morning and try to let it guide me in my thoughts for the day. One of the phrases from a recent devotion was "Trust with every fiber of your being." That stuck with me, that image of letting trust into every single nook and cranny of my life. Trusting with every inch of my body and soul.

This is life lately and it's a bit of an up and down battle, but it's rich and beautiful and filled to the brim with lessons and a whole lot of love.

A Chat About Marriage

I've been thinking about one particular aspect of marriage for the past few days, trying to sort it out in my mind. Maybe you can help.

The one person who sees you at your very worst is the same person who loves you more than anyone else in the world.

How does that work?!

But it's true, isn't it? My husband sees me at my worst. I don't just mean first thing in the morning, sans makeup, or when my cheeks were the size of balloons after getting my wisdom teeth out (I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd run away from me screaming, it was that horrible). I mean that he sees my faults, my flaws, the weaknesses and gaps in my character that make me human and vulnerable. He sees me when I'm petty, when I'm feeling sorry for myself, when I'm afraid. He sees it all. Yet he loves me completely and fully and with grace and humor and forgiveness.

Sounds an awful lot like the kind of love that comes down from the heavens, does it not?

I believe that's what marriage is and I think it's why it works. Ultimately, we are meant to love our spouses as God loves us. Of course we can never match His love. But it is when we strive for godliness in our marriages, when we serve and put away selfishness and offer up our hearts and forgive over and over, that's when marriage is ultimately fulfilling and good.

I read a bunch of books on marriage when I was engaged and the main thing I gleaned from my reading and studying was that I wanted to be a godly wife. The kind of wife who has the strength to surrender her ego for the good of her family. The kind of wife who never embarrasses her husband in front of others. The kind of wife who doesn't dominate or control or demand, but is respectful and sincere and calm and graceful. The kind of wife who accepts her husband and forgives his faults and prays for him continuously, who gives of herself generously. A strong, loving, beautiful wife.

Ok, typing that makes me realize I still have a lot of work to do. I'm sure I'll always have work to do. But to me, this is the path to loving my husband the best I possibly can. And I believe it's the path to a true and good and wholesome and intensely rewarding marriage.

(Taking silly photos together never hurts, either.)

From Where I Sit

I'm doing something different today. While on my usual morning walk I had this urge to sit for a moment at the edge of a little pond near our house. To just sit and pause. And to listen. It's amazing how many natural sounds are dancing in my ears as I sit here typing up this post on my iPhone. The world is loud with its joy. So many birds clamoring and wanting to be heard. Squirrels sprinting and rushing up trees and having the time of their lives, from what I can tell. A bullfrog's splash. I can even hear the occasional flapping of wings when a bird whirs close by.

I should do this sort of thing more often. 

It's healthy to notice the goodness and easy calm of the natural world. I think it speaks to the way things should be. Stress is such a human emotion--one I've been feeling far too much of lately--and these little animals around me now are reminding me of something I too often forget. Life is big. Our perspectives are so very small. Things aren't as dire as we like to think. We should focus more on just living--making noise and running around and jumping for joy like the squirrels.

Now I hear a woodpecker! And acorns falling just in front of me. Oh, and a helicopter. The only man-made sound out here right now, but a very pleasant one since it reminds me of my husband.

A writer inspired by the woods. Could anything be more cliché? Though I don't exactly feel inspired sitting here so much as mellow and calm and just...aware. Grateful. Accepting. Outside my own thoughts and worries.

Ok, back up the hill I go. Thank you, pond and trees and critters, for this little respite.

Secret Things

Image Source / Quote

We're setting out on a road trip tomorrow to try to find a place to live in our new city. Half of me is thrilled and half of me is completely nervous! This feels different somehow than all of the other times I've house-hunted. I know that just the right home is waiting for us and it's only a matter of lining up all the pieces and allowing ourselves patience and trust. 

I have such high hopes for our new lives and the changes that are in store for us. This move is so much more than just a physical relocation. Some very fundamental things will change, affecting both the shape of our daily lives and the bigger story that my husband and I are writing together. So while it's terribly exciting, you may also sense some anxiety in my posts over the next few weeks. Big changes, even wonderful ones, can really fill up your mind and heart and overwhelm you at times. I'm taking lots of deep breaths these days. 

Secret things belong to the Lord, and future things are secret things. 

Really, we aren't supposed to have all the answers. God is the keeper of our futures, the keeper of life's secrets. I'm resting in that truth today.

Bittersweet

A few weeks ago, I placed a big order of books on Amazon. I'm definitely a library gal and love getting my books that way, but I'm boycotting one of my local libraries (that's a story for another time--let's just say that several of the women who work there fit the stereotype of the cranky, old librarian and aren't too pleasant to be around) and I didn't think the other library was likely to have the books I was after.

So I hopped on Amazon and a fresh stack of books arrived on my stoop a few days later. Almost immediately I sat down with Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist, devoured the first 100 pages in about 30 minutes, and ended up finishing the book the next day. I think my soul must have been thirsting for the wisdom and the stories and the amazing beauty that is packed into this book. I remember I wasn't really having a great day when the box arrived and I think this book was just what I needed, at that precise moment, to get me out of a funk.

The idea behind Bittersweet is powerful and encouraging. Niequist writes so convincingly about the trying, sorrowful, heartbreaking seasons of life and the ways they can shape us if we let them. That we can't grow and change and become more than we are if life is only easy, pure sweetness, filled with unmitigated happiness and joy. That we need those trials and difficulties and that if we lean into them, instead of fighting them, we will change in remarkable ways and lead better, more godly lives as a result. Life is bittersweet and that's a blessing.

Here is a little snippet from the book. This is how the book ends, with a plea for all of us to share our own lives, the bitter and the sweet and the bittersweet:


This is what I want you to do: tell your story. Don't allow the story of God, the sacred, transforming story of what God does in a human heart to become flat and lifeless. If we choose silence, if we allow the gospel to be told only on Sundays, only in sanctuaries, only by approved and educated professionals, that life-changing story will lose its ability to change lives.

It always goes back to the beginning, no matter how far we've wandered off course. When Christ walked among us, he entrusted the gospel to plain old regular people who were absolutely not religious professionals. If you have been transformed by the grace of God, then you have within you all you need to write your manifesto, your poem, your song, your battle cry, your love letter to a beautiful and broken world.


Among other things, I think these two paragraphs are such a powerful testament to what we do as bloggers. When we sit at our computers and write about the hills and valleys in our lives and what brings us hope on darker days and how we choose to celebrate our greatest joys. We all have different writing styles and levels of comfort with how much we divulge and we certainly all have unique struggles and triumphs. What matters is that we aren't "choosing silence" and that instead, we have this belief to some degree that what each of us have to say is worthy and meaningful.

The way God works in each of us is wonderful. We shouldn't hide the light that gives us daily courage, and neither should we hide the pain that sometimes feels like it will be too much. Both are beautiful, both have God at the center, and both deserve a voice.

The Future Is A Phantom

Photo taken a few years ago--2010? 2011?--by the one and only Noah Zinsmeister. It seemed fitting for today's post!

"The future is a phantom, seeking to spook you. Laugh at the future! Stay close to Me."

Isn't this quote absolutely great? It came from today's Jesus Calling devotional, a new app of mine that I'm seriously loving. Rarely do I spend a dime--let alone a full $9.99--on apps, but this one was well worth it and more. The daily devotions always feel eerily suited to my life and my "worry of the moment," as I like to call them. (I've mentioned before that my brain has to have something to fret over at all times. I'm working on it.) 

I love this quote because it can apply to almost every anxiety that you and I might feel on any given day. No matter what the worry, whether it is big or small, realistic or completely irrational, worry is about the future. In fact, I just read a beautiful essay in the latest issue of Notre Dame Magazine in which the author writes, "...anxiety is merely the ability to project fear into the future." Exactly. Though I'd never thought of it quite in this way before.

The future is a phantom, seeking to spook you.

Isn't this the perfect way to phrase it? All of our anxieties and worries and fears live in a world that hasn't happened yet, a day that hasn't yet been lived. We concern ourselves over fates yet to be decided and difficulties not yet real. The future, for something that doesn't actually exist yet, sure is skilled at spooking us, consuming us.

Laugh at the future!

One of the best things about my husband is that he is lighthearted, in the truest sense of the word. His heart is almost always free and unburdened. Partly this is the way God made him and partly it comes from life experience and a perspective he's chosen to develop. I so admire this quality in him because it's a little bit foreign to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm a very happy person. I smile constantly. I'm just not very lighthearted. I don't brush away fears very well or very easily, and I tend to be quite serious. Laugh at the future. That's something I'm going to try the next time I'm feeling spooked.

Stay close to Me.

Yes. Yes yes yes. I've often thought to myself that people without faith must have such a harder time in life. I truly feel sorry for those who can't or don't or won't believe. The strength I draw from prayer is enormous, a sense of stillness and comfort completely envelops me as I direct my worried thoughts to God. 

I see that girl in the photo above and think, "She sure does look carefree." I'm sure I wasn't completely worry-free--who is ever 100% worry-free?--but I'm going to fight for that feeling as much as I possibly can. Strive to make my heart just an ounce or two lighter. Laugh at my silly worries. Speak my fears to God. Take a deep breath, look heavenward, and smile.

The Dawning Of 365 New Days

     Photo by Noah Zinsmeister / Noah Zinsmeister Photography

2014, I'm ready for you!

The start of a fresh year and the tradition of setting goals and resolutions have never really meant too much to me. I'm a pretty self-reflective and contemplative person (to a major fault) which means that I'm constantly working on something or other in my personal character. It could be that I'm trying to overcome a nagging fear or worry, or working on getting rid of one of my more unpleasant tendencies. It's true that I can be a little bit hard on myself and  rigid in my desire for self-improvement so I usually take a break at New Year's and don't pile on any additional tasks or goals.

But as the last hours of 2013 tick by, I am finding that I feel especially grateful and excited for the dawning of this new year. I still don't have any big goals or resolutions to share with you--truth be told, most of what I hope for in 2014 is largely out of my control, so a list of goals wouldn't serve much of a purpose anyway (I learned somewhere along the way that setting goals is a worthwhile activity only if the goals are specific and attainable and within your grasp).

I'm just feeling ready for a fresh start. 2013 was a beautiful year for my marriage, it was a wonderful year for friendship, it was such a growing year for my faith. It was a great year for my blog and I learned a lot in my teaching and musical life and I am a more patient and calm person now than I was in January.

But 2013 was hard, too. Because of circumstances we couldn't predict or change or influence, it feels like we've been moving sideways instead of forward for awhile now, and that's no easy thing to stomach. I fully believe there has been a purpose behind it and that a hundred blessings in disguise are waiting for us on the other side and that God has a better plan--always--than we do. I've found so much peace and solace in that.

Still, there were some very difficult moments to get through this year. I was tested in very personal ways and I think that part of God's plan in all of this was specifically to shape and mold me into the person He wants me to be. That job isn't done--it will take a lifetime and beyond--but I do think it's pretty amazing how the challenges we face are so often tailored to our particular weaknesses. One thing that I've learned this year is that if it weren't for life's struggles and tests and disappointments, we would never have a reason to cry out for a Savior.

I'm glad for 2013, and all it was, but I'm also glad it's coming to an end. I'm ready for a beautiful and exciting 2014! I know there will be obstacles to face this year too, but I feel better equipped than ever to face them. And when I don't feel equipped, when I feel alone and small, I will cry out for my Savior and he will change me and lift me up and carry me through.

Happy New Year, friends.