One Year

My Work Buddy

It’s amazing what God can do in a year. One year ago, I was pregnant, and I was getting a bit anxious—something I rarely experience—and I wasn’t sure how to handle my anxiety.

The first weekend of February last year, I headed out with a few girlfriends to Nashville, Indiana, to get away for the weekend and watch the live stream of the IF: Gathering. It was snowy and cold, and we huddled under blankets in our small suite to watch the speakers and answer questions about what God was teaching us.

Something had been nagging at me all week, and until I was still in that place, open to what God was telling me, I couldn't put my finger on it.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

This Advent, my heart has been singing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" like never before. There's a feeling of exasperation in the air. There's a sense of yearning, so palpable.

Between lingering reports about Michael Brown and Eric Garner, stories of shootings in my hometown, and a general level of mistrust and anger, I'm crying out, "How long, Lord, must we wait?"

This Advent, as I've contemplated our deep, utter need for Christ's return, I've found myself more emotional than usual. There's so much hurt. There's so much misunderstanding. There's so much disunity. There's so much needless violence. There's so much . . . wrong. It's given me a fresh perspective on our need for Jesus—not just me, but all of us. Our entire world.

#realmoments

One night last week, I had a group of friends over. We sat outside drinking malbec, eating spicy goat cheese, and sharing stories. There was a mixture of people: married and single, parents and without kids, under and over 30. We always have a great time together, but there was something unique about this particular night. Stories quickly turned from more surface-level to sharing deep struggles and worries. We shared about the hard parts of marriage and the hard parts of singleness. We shared about how God had protected us, and how following him meant a more difficult path. We encouraged one another in our individual strengths, and we shared about our weaknesses. We talked long into the night, finally dispersing only because we had to get up early the next morning for work.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just experienced something holy and precious. Something that Christians should experience more when they gather. There was an authenticity, a lack of judgment, an increasing empathy for other's situations.

And the biggest takeaway for me was that we normally do a poor job of sharing this part of life: the messy, fragile, tender parts. And yet we all walked away encouraged. Though the enemy often lies to us and tells us we're alone, we're failures, and that no one will understand, sharing our stories allowed God's truth to wash over us.

So Much Waiting

Our family is growing by two feet in May!

In case you missed our big announcement on Facebook and Twitter, Jim and I are expecting our first child this May. As I approach the halfway mark of my pregnancy this week, I realize pregnancy hasn't been exactly what I expected. First of all, the first trimester was pretty rough. I felt sick 24 hours a day and had trouble eating anything—which made trying to act normal at work very difficult. I had to cut way back on get togethers and parties and dinners out (and even writing on this blog), simply because I was so sick and tired I couldn’t handle it.

And while I thought I'd be busy thinking about what kind of parent I'll be and how we'll take care of this new, squirming little person, those thoughts have rarely crossed my mind. Instead, I've wondered whether it's possible to still be me and a mom. I've rolled my eyes at the countless toys and onesies that perpetuate terrible gender clichés and wondered how my son or daughter will manage these messages—and how he or she will fight to change them.

As I've focused on Advent these last few weeks, my mind has turned to all the waiting involved in pregnancy. The waiting seems especially fitting for the season of Advent, and more than a few times I've compared the two.

After all, as a first-time mom, I'm waiting for something that will change everything, something that will turn my world upside down, something that requires me to prepare . . . and yet I really don't know much about what I'm preparing for.

Learning to Be Fully Present

Something about coffee out on the patio
always helps me focus and be present

Monday was a hectic day. First of all, my foot was throbbing from an injury from vacation (not the kind of souvenir I wanted). Then there were a few stressful moments with coworkers. On top of it all, the missional event my women’s small group had planned for that night seemed to be unraveling before my eyes.

Every couple of months, my Monday night women's group serves together by heading to a local residential ministry for homeless women. We make dinner and play games with the women and children. It’s always a bit chaotic but really fun, and the women really appreciate it.

But Monday I was really wondering if we’d pull it off. I wasn’t sure if we’d have enough food. And then someone unexpectedly had to back out. Another person in our group hadn’t responded to the group messages, so I wasn’t sure if she’d be there. I didn’t want the event to be a bust.

New Hair

Long hair when I actually styled it :)

Almost two weeks ago, I cut about five inches off my hair.

Five inches.

I know that may not seem dramatic, but it certainly feels dramatic. Especially when I wash my hair and realize there’s so much missing.

The truth is, I was just tired of the length. How it blew in the breeze and got stuck in my lip gloss, got caught in the car door, and took forever to dry.

I did like braiding it. And when I did dry and straighten it, it looked pretty great. It felt young and sexy, to be honest. And I felt I’d accomplished a feat of some sort because it was the longest my hair had ever been.

Messy Monday Tears and Laughter

Monday nights are great because I have a women’s group at my house. We were all strangers when we started meeting in September. We’ve added a few since then, and a few have moved on to other groups. But we’ve grown together. One night we’re discussing a broken relationship, and there are tears in our eyes. Another night we’re laughing hysterically at Minute to Win It games. Another, we’re having an in-depth conversation on baptism after reading John 3.

The thing that makes it so refreshing is that we’re all living authentically, sharing our good and bad sides. They get to see my messy house, dog toys strewn about. They get to see my scattered brain at the end of a crazy Monday at work. They also see my tears. And my struggles. And my heart for God’s Word. And how much I love to laugh. And it seems like that’s what matters.