Planting Seeds

4/14/25

I was reading about planting seeds of faith this weekend. It was freeing to read about how it isn't really our job to save people, convince them, or secure their place in eternity. It's our job to plant the seeds. I have felt torn and disappointed over the last few years, that I haven't been in a God-focused relationship with a God-fearing and God-loving man, with a surrendered heart. I have churned and beat myself up over the way the faith of my children have been shaped and impacted by the relationship I have had with their father while they have had so many formidable years. It feels like the greatest failure that they haven't all verbalized they have personal relationships with God and that I do not see Him working in their daily lives.

Then, this weekend, I read a perspective-shifting devotional, and it was beautiful. My grandfather planted his seeds of faith in me. I saw how he lived, loved, and served. I saw how he studied the Bible in quiet stillness and how he bowed his head when no one was looking. Consistently. Day after day. Alone and with others. His faith and relationship with God have been the single most impactful thing on my faith—and the faith of everyone who knew him, honestly. There's a huge lift in the mindset of planting seeds versus the pressure of convincing, the pressure of the outcome. The tulips I planted last year came up this Spring, in their own time. When I planted them, they were brown, peeling bulbs. Nothing green, no signs of the flowers that would emerge unannounced this Spring. I didn’t remember to water them. In fact, I didn’t remember them at all.

The seeds of all the vegetables I planted a few weeks ago were teeny, tiny little things. They weren’t green. In fact, they were all mostly colorless shades of white or cream. There were no signs of roots to be found among them in their paper envelopes as I dumped them into my hands. But, I planted them with faith and God is doing the rest. It reminds me of my Papa's response when I would ask him how in the world he would continue to bring in 5 gallon bucket after 5 gallon bucket of tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, and corn all summer long. His response was predictable because it was the same every single time. He would always say, "I just planted the seeds, God did the rest." I feel that’s what I’m called to do as well. And, I'm really thankful for this realization.

I believe there is a purpose and there are gifts that are part of God's plan in my failings as well. Even more, His plan is beautiful, powerful, and believable because He said so. He can mend a broken heart. He can turn a lifeless little seed into a green, rooted, force that has been forgotten under inches of dirt. So, I choose to keep planting seeds. I choose to plant them in my children's hearts, in the dirt, and in my own heart using my hands and bowed head. I'm leaving it up to God to do the watering and sunshining, the storming, and the rooting, knowing I cannot control anything other than the planting. 

4/8/2025 Uncovered Wounds

Today's devotional is about the courage of the Shunammite woman who has a pain and wound bigger than anything else- her desire for a child. The devotional says, "This wound is so painful that she dare not allow it to be uncovered." Oh, I feel that so bigly. Although I don't feel the pain of a woman unable to or trying to conceive, the pain in my heart does feel like a gaping wound that if I uncover it, surely will have the power to overtake me because it is so great and deep. Fear lives in that vulnerability and I've been asking God to heal my heart and let me receive love again. I feel that this wound of mine being covered and hidden, keeps me from hurting but also keeps me from feeling and receiving, believing in love. I know that fear is not from the Light. I know that fear is the opposite of faith. I wrestle with them both. I know and do not want to live a life in fear or because of fear. I want to live a life of faith. I know that we suffer because we love and have loved. We grieve, we mourn, we cry, we reason, we protect and guard our hearts because we have loved. 

The devotional goes on to provide more details about the story from 2 Kings 4. It says that nevertheless, God faithfully fulfills His plan for her. Nevertheless. I love that word right there. Nevertheless. Despite, in spite of, regardless of her wound and her pain, and perhaps with her mustard-seed faith...He faithfully fulfills his plan for her. That God has his own plan and she knows it, takes courage, and seeks His plan for her life with hope and faith. She knows God will act to fulfill His plan in her life. He doesn't do anything about the pain. He doesn't change it. He doesn't make it go away. And, she carries on, regardless. She is hospitable and has a serving heart and hands, despite her uncovered wound. I love that part of the story, too. 

Here I am. I've been praying, praying for a mended heart. A gaping wound. One that is too painful to uncover. I've been praying that God would fix it so that I can one day, receive love and trust it. This story gives me strength today, trusting that God has a plan for me. I need only to be courageous, faithful, to have hope, and believe that He will fulfill his promises and plans for me. I say "only," as if it's nothing. It's difficult. But maybe those are the key ingredients that will turn my wound into a strong scar. By shining love on the broken place. 

So, I will wait. And, I will continue to seek Him in His word, people, His creation, in new things, to remind me that He has my little broken heart in His hands and I can trust that He will fulfill His promises and plans for me, in His time. In His time. 

Not without thanks, of course I pause to acknowledge the wonderfully flawed, imperfect, striving, caring, hurting, brave, and kind people He has put in my path that point me to Him. And, I find myself asking Him that, while he is fixing things or choosing not to, while He is asking me to get up, get out, and do all of the things with my broken little heart and mustard seed faith, I am begging Him to please let me keep the people He has sent. To let me keep the people that love me like He does, without knowing. To let me keep the people who are all shining love on my uncovered pain. 

And, finally, I pray that He doesn't let me forget or become numb to the uncovered pain of others all around me. The unspoken pain. The unseen and covered kind. 

Love Lessons

 2/14/2025

Today the world seems to be on fire with love. Commercialized, dipped in chocolate, flowery, and fragrant love. Loud and noisy love. On fire love. Shiny. Polished. Expensive. Calculated.  

I'm thankful for the love that is none of those things. Because I stopped settling for that top and most outer layer of it, the love from a distance kind of love. 

Instead, I look to the love of the friends I'm so fortunate to have. The ones who show up for me when things are messy, emotional, tired, sweaty, stinky, sticky, unprepared, scared, and brave.  The friends who can get sassy and dressy and go out to a nice ticketed event but know the real me is happy in jeans and a t-shirt, with fake pearls and mismatched ribbon shoelaces. The ones who love me and show up for me despite what an inconvenience it is for them to do so. For friends who have shown me what it means to show up. To be present. The ones who make me feel like my broken heart is perfect in a world hellbent on making me feel the opposite. I'm reminded that there isn't "one person," who can "make," me feel anything. It's a lot of people, walking some paths with us when they can and others who walk the rest with us. Sometimes all together. Sometimes separately. And sometimes, sustaining me to walk specific paths and adventures alone. I'm thankful for those friends who endure my driving, music, last minute adventures, messy hair, and mismatched forks, spoons, cups, plates, and furniture. My mismatched life. The friends who love me in my winters and remind me that they have winters too. The friends who allow me to sit with them in their winters. Who call me because they just need someone to listen sometimes, too. The friends who tell me about the little and big things that break their hearts. The friends that text back when I send a "tell me something good," text. The friends who share 1/2 of their sticky peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the middle of nowhere and think of me when they see a new kind of gummy bears on the shelf. The friends who listen to me whine about the same things and believe in my ability to face difficult things. I'm thankful for the friends who show up for me when I am toeing hard things in my life because they can't imagine me failing or finishing such a big thing alone. They don't want me to call and tell them about it, they want to be IN it. I'm thankful for the ones that show up, in spite of what it may mean for them to do so. To stay when the world and other things also call them away. 

I look at my children for love. Each one, a sprout of love. Bright green with newness and each with love languages of their own. They give me something important to pour my love into and receive it back in a million different ways. Like helping me pull my cowboy boots off, laughing at me when I use words like, "Rizz," and "Aura," wrong. They give me honest feedback when I ask for outfit/shoe combo advice and share their heated blanket on the couch. They don't whine when I steal a bite of their cereal in the morning with groggy eyes. They offer to share the batter when they finish whipping up some cookies and quietly come up and hug me after dinner and tell me that they loved it. It's bringing the groceries in and suffering in the back of the car sitting closer to one another than they'd like for 4 hours just to go and hike some miles with me. They endure my playlists and send me, "Goodnight, I love you and miss you mama," texts in the middle of the week. They laugh at me when I cry about JJ dying on the Outer Banks and settle for tuna sandwiches or oven pizza for dinner when it's been a long day for me. They make me necklaces and earrings and mow the lawn. They find pretty rocks for me on hikes and send me reels of puppies and seals. 

Regardless of the WHO, whether I'm thinking about the love of my friends or the love of my children, what makes it true, authentic, palpable and resonating love for me is that they all demonstrate these qualities: Presence, Time, Proximity, Thoughtfulness, and Plans. They are all relatively quiet and somewhat bland to the world's eye. And, if I blinked it would be easy to miss them. But, when I take a minute to truly think about the "LOVE," I need in my life, it's all of those things mismatched. Woven together into a tapestry of a meaningful and connected life. A healthy life. A soul-feeding, nourishing one. 

Bouquets of flowers on a special holiday for love are beautiful and nice. But, so is a "Look at this 4-leaf clover I found in the yard, you can have it." And, "These chocolate brownies are the best you've ever made," with chocolate teeth and sticky fingers. On an ordinary day. Doing ordinary things. Nothing grand or loud. Not showy. Real. Pure.Together. Right beside me. Because love DOES. And my favorite kind appears dull. Mundane. Ordinary. Mismatched. So today and tomorrow and next week..that's all I'm willing to settle for. 

 

Words From One Squishy Broken Heart

2/12/2025

When I was 14, my mom made me volunteer all summer at the hospital. Most kids volunteered 1 day/week. We couldn't afford summer camp or family vacations and she worked all week. I was too young for a job. She signed me up to volunteer at the hospital 5 days/week all day. All summer long. 

I delivered flowers and cards to patients. I sat with patients in the cancer center and kept them company while they were getting chemo. I helped people sit up to eat, and I took family members from the lobby to patient rooms and back again. 

It was the summer between middle school and high school for me. I was overweight, lacked self-confidence, didn't play sports, read a lot of books, and spent a lot of time in my room by myself drawing, reading, listening to music, and dreaming. 

I came home crying every day about the patients I saw. Every single day broke my heart. I will always remember what my mom said to me one day after being a little annoyed with me for crying again. She said, "Kim, this experience is so good for you. You have always had such a tender heart and one day, the world will harden it, and you won't be so sensitive anymore."

I went to nursing school and the world didn't harden my heart. As a new RN, I remember going into the rooms of my pediatric patients in the middle of the night and picking up the babies that were awake. Many of them wouldn't have parents with them because they had to work the next day, or they couldn't get a ride to the hospital. Or, they had more children at home. Regardless, I would go in and pick them up and sing to them in their rooms. 

I still cry at the thought of the first pediatric patient I lost. When I came back to work and heard he had passed away after he had been getting chemo for months for osteosarcoma. When I would take him a popsicle for his mouth sores from the chemo and radiation, I remember he looked at me and told me I was an angel. It still wrecks me. 

I remember the first patient we couldn't save in the Children's ED who came in unresponsive after choking at home on a hotdog. I will never forget him. Or his mama. 

I cry for strangers. At sappy songs, when I hear people talk about someone they love, or hear them talk unfiltered and honestly about what is hard for them, the circumstances they have overcome. 

I went into 9th grade and started high school a slimmer version of myself, with confidence that was somehow different than the kind my peers had. Still a nerd. Still introverted. Still not athletic. Timid. Hopeful. Looking around and seeing others. Smiling. Accepting. Driven. 

Looking back on that summer, and that specific conversation with my mama, I'd say it was a pretty life-altering experience for me. I saw the power of my squishy heart. The power of sitting with someone in the most scary moments of their lives, just being present. I delivered the cards and saw the impact of such a small and seemingly insignificant thing for a patient alone, in an empty room. I saw their eyes light up when I brought the flowers in and read the card so they wouldn't have to squint. 

It's difficult to have such a squishy heart. People take advantage of people with squishy hearts. But, at 41, I don't know any other way to be. I don't have any control over my squishy heart and the connection it has to the water in my eyes. 

I'm happiest when I can do the giving, the serving, the helping, connecting, the seeing and being present. And, my writing always seems to carry me to a prayer. 

Dear God, when you send me someone this time, could you just please send them with a squishy heart that the world never hardened? Could you send me a man that's strong enough and confident enough to show it? Someone who values the little things? Presence? Words? Handmade cards? Someone who sees me and has been hoping and praying you made a woman with a squishy heart too? There's a lot of darkness, sadness, sickness, trouble, doubt, and fear in this world. I pray for someone who doesn't want wealth and riches. I pray for a man with a squishy heart that leads him with purpose, passion, and is restless and stirring to get busy helping. Then, I pray that you send US. Until then, I will continue to show up, to seek others in ordinary moments that need a little light. And, I pray, having faith that you are going before me and lining all the things, moments, people, places, and circumstances up just as they should be. You know who needs my squishy heart the most. Meanwhile, I will look to the left and the right and see who is on my path now. In ordinary places. Needing little tiny extraordinary things. Because the one thing I know, is what it feels like to use a squishy heart. Give me patience. Strengthen my heart but please, keep it squishy so I can see, feel, and be moved by connection, strangers, words, music, and moments. I now know it's a divine gift of mine, this broken and squishy heart. And so, I just want to say thank you. A squishy heart makes a full life and I know the hard times have led me right here. In prayer. On my knees. Looking up. Having faith. Understanding the assignment. It's your move, God. 

Amen. 

What does it take to write?

As you can tell, it's been so long since I've posted. For some reason, it always takes something pretty big or eye-opening to get me still enough to write. The stars all lined up tonight and I decided to login and post again. Have any of you started email accounts for your children? I have about 3 journals upstairs, tattered and torn, exhausted from moving around from box to box. In them, I have letters to the kids. I was really good about writing to the twins when I was pregnant with them. I wrote about the things that scared me and the things I hoped for them. I wrote about how I felt, what I ate, and even ordinary things that being pregnant with them changed. I told them about how it felt to tie my shoes sideways and how I required pretzel nests of pillows in order to sleep. I even kept up with writing to each of them for awhile after they were born. But, as luck and life would have it, sleep became harder and harder to come by and my priorities shifted.

The other night, I was on a flight home and felt like I needed to write to Katie. All of a sudden, I was worried, concerned that she wouldn't believe me when she got older. That she wouldn't reach out to me when she needed to hear encouraging words, that she wouldn't tell me she was struggling or weak. And, that she wouldn't have anyone or anything positive to lift her up. Or, even more scary, that I wouldn't be here for her for some reason to convince her of how wonderful and strong and beautiful she is. That's when I thought about sending her an email. So, I typed up a word document and began to just spill my guts to her. I thought about how she would be able to access this letter and multiple ones in the future just by signing in to an email account. I figured I could save the password for her and give it to her when she turns, I don't know...16? You know, the age. The age you don't want to listen to anyone. The age when the one pimple on your forehead is enough to make you want to just hide in bed all day. The age when you want to know that you're important and special. And, you pretend that your parents opinion doesn't matter, but it does.  So, I decided I'd share the letter with you as well. Because, maybe your mama never wrote you a letter. Maybe your mama didn't have the internet. Or, the ability to pour her heart out to you on a piece of paper. Maybe your mama didn't think you would listen anyway. Or maybe she was too concerned with grammar and sensitive to run-on sentences.  Maybe she didn't have the time. Nonetheless, take these words and draw them straight into your heart. Use them if you need them. Spread them. Here is my first letter to Katie May. Of course, the boys will get their letters too. But, I felt inclined to start with her. Because, it is such a battle to be a strong, brave, and confident woman in this world. And, it's hard for us to see the power that lies in our own two hands.

10.21.2016

My Dearest Katie May,

   I just feel overwhelmed to write to you. I am on a flight from NY to NC. I looked out the window and saw all the lights and the buildings in the dark and thought about how big a world this is. I am listening to music on my phone. I have the song “Faded,” on repeat because you sing it so well and every single time I hear the song, I remember how wonderful it makes me feel to hear and see you sing it with all of your heart when we are in the car or in the house, dancing in the kitchen like we do, without a care in the world.

  I traveled to NY about 2-3 weeks a month for almost 3 years until I just couldn’t do it anymore. I felt that you and Isaac were young enough that maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult for you. But, it was difficult for me. I’ve been working at Lenovo now since July and I've only flown out once. So, when you, Daddy, and your brothers took me to the airport this time, it broke me in half when I saw your face wrinkle up and the tears start to pour. I opened the door and squeezed you in my arms again, afraid of letting you go. Afraid that I wouldn’t be returning for some scary reason. Afraid that me leaving you would be etched in your spirit, in your soul and scar you somehow. Afraid that you would somehow feel like I left you or that I am always leaving you.  It’s a very hard thing being a mother. It’s very hard leaving and working and hoping that you remember the way I love and cherish you.

  I think about my own childhood.  And, I feel compelled to write to you. To tell you how truly wonderful you are. How bright your eyes are, how kind you are. I know that I tell you how wonderful you are. But, there will be a day when I will not be near you to tell you those things when you forget them. Or when you feel like you just want to feel sorry for yourself. Or when life beats you up and things are so hard that you just want to escape. And, I want you to remember. I want you to feel my love. Because I firmly believe that nothing can ever separate us from that love. Because it is energy. It is electric and it moves. And it is bigger. And tomorrow is another day. And, when tomorrow sucks too. And next week and really the entire year. I want you to remember my love covering you then most of all. I want you to hold tight to your courage and your strength and, your love. And I want for you to keep getting up, keep moving forward, keep trying. And, if you’re tired of life’s cards, you’re overcome with sadness and fear, anxiety and uncertainty, I want you to think about how you can change your life. I want you to think about how you can look around, outside of yourself and pull yourself out of that place you are in.

  I hope that you understand the gift of your brothers. I always wanted a brother growing up. Someone to fight with, someone to squeeze me and tell me that  I was fun, and kind, and good. I wanted that. I wanted someone that understood all of the things in my life from the beginning. And, someone that I could lean on and call long-distance. I wanted someone to have my back when I was picked on. I wanted someone to help me bury the goldfish in the backyard and cry with me. It was very important for me to have a large family. It was very important for me to be your mama. And, I am so very glad that God gave me you. And your brothers. And, I hope that they are always there for you to lean on. I hope that you value their opinion in the friends you have and the boys you like. I hope that they help you remember how wonderful you are when you don’t believe me or your dad.

Mostly, I just want you to know that you are 4. You are just a little 4, But, the other night, you came into our bedroom with just your purple peace-sign panties on, and you threw both of your arms out, above your head, as far apart as you could reach, and you yelled, “TA-DA.” And, I was SO proud of you. So proud. How silly is that? Well, it is. But, That’s you. 100% free, happy, comfortable in your skin. And I wanted to stop time for you in that very moment. And, keep you that way because that’s the person you are. I wanted to pause the world and keep them out of this you. I wanted to shelter you. And, hold you. And tell you how proud I am of the girl you are. And, I hope you don’t lose this little girl inside. Keep her. The world needs that spirit. That “TA-DA” attitude. That life. That light.

You are such a sensitive light. If I raise my voice at you or scold you for something, you break. So easily. All of a sudden, your eyes turn in the corners, your lips twitch, and your forehead wrinkles. Then the tears start. Quietly. Then with a gasp when you can’t hold it anymore. And it breaks my heart. Every. Time. It is so hard to be your mom. To tell you to clean up your toys, to make you carry things in the house, to make you help. To scold you for stealing your brother’s toys and for not sharing. It’s difficult for me. But, I’m your mama. And, I have to do those things. Because I am teaching you.

  I love it when I paint your nails and you hold your hand out, so proud. So thrilled to have new shiny, sparkley polish. I love seeing your face after I have polished nail number 10. I love that satisfied and sassy little face of yours. I love it when you tuck your whispy hairs behind your ears. It is so stinking cute. And, grown up. I want you to always remember that you were given two hands, 1 to help yourself and 1 to help others. I truly believe that helping others is the best way to help yourself, through anything.

  I hope I am (we are) doing a good job growing you. Helping you. Leading you. Guiding you. I hope you know one day how much your dad and I sacrificed in order to give you the love and attention that you have. I hope that you are able to cope with difficulties, stress, and responsibility. I hope that you are productive. But, more importantly, I hope you are kind and care about people. I know you. I know that you are similar to me. I know that this world will break your heart. Send you to your knees. I know you will cry for babies that aren’t yours and care about people you don’t know. I know you will ache at the hardships others face. And, I know you will want to help them. The world needs you.

Katie, I want you to be brave. I want you to do hard things and love with all your heart. I want you to talk to people when you feel they are scared. I want you to reach out to others and let them know you love them and that you care about them. I don't want for you to be discouraged when someone doesn’t return the love, the light, or the kindness. When someone doesn’t care, I want you to keep going. And shine anyways. Because that’s who you are. And I know that. Because I am your mama.

I want you to know that you are such a beautiful person, inside and out. And, you are a miracle. Perfectly made. Just how you are.

I love you so much. I am so proud you are mine. I am always cheering for you to get up, keep going, keep shining.

Love always,

Mama

It is well, it is well with my soul. Amen.

So many things have been weighing on my shoulders lately. I've been soul-searching, praying, and keeping the faith. I've just been wishing a big neon sign would appear to let me know what to do, what to go for, where to go, where to put roots down. You know, just the BIGGIES. And, then this morning I thought to myself, maybe the big neon sign that I want is ...there is no big neon sign. And, I just need to be still. And, wait. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that when I know what I want, I go after it with all the strength and determination I have. Lately, I have to admit that things in my life that have previously held so much weight and required so much strength have fallen by the wayside. 

I have recognized over the last week or so that the everyday stresses of life coupled with the search for a home (in every sense of the word home) have really drained a lot of my joy, my sunshine.  And, quite frankly, I'm fed up with myself. 

Many of you know that we were extremely close to closing on a gorgeous home in Burlington, NC. When it came down to it, there were expensive repairs that needed to be made. And, in an older home, one thing started leading to another and snowballing. Before we knew it, contractors were estimating 30K in repairs. (And, that didn't include the nice shiny stainless steel appliances we wanted.) Furthermore, with all the traveling I've been doing and will be doing, it is difficult to have a large home that I am never truly IN. 

I am a dreamer. You show me a house, and I am already figuring out where african violets will grow best, where the beds will be positioned, I get caught up in all the warm and fuzzies. I am bad about that, counting chickens before they hatch. Visualizing what I want. Visualizing all the little details. Isn't that where we find ourselves? In the little details? In the reading corner? Under the granny square crocheted blanket? In those thick wool socks? 

Ready for it? This is the breaking point. Jay and I started talking about what use a home would be, if I wasn't there to be in it. On ordinary days. On rainy days. On cold nights. When I travel, I'm only home on Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun. And, he is the glue that holds it all together. All the time. The lunches, the dishes, the laundry, the whining, the homework, the baths, the rinse-spits, the gargle gargles. The shoelaces, the seatbelts. All of it. When I am gone, he carries it all.

 Seth started Kindergarten. And, items started coming home in the bookbag. You know the folder I am referring to. It is filled with news from the school, and open house dates, report card dates, school picture days. Reading goals and book suggestions, fund raisers and behavior charts.

And, then I realized that Mon, Tues, Weds, Thurs, I would not be there to unzip that bookbag. I will be traveling the night before his first picture day at school. I will be traveling when his report card comes home. (I know you see where I am going with this.)  

Then, that good old Bible verse comes to mind. You know the sweet one. "Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. 17"Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried." Ruth 1:16. Where you go, I will go.

So, I sit here.  Being patient. Waiting. Being faithful. Being hopeful. Being obedient. Asking God where He wants me to be. Where He wants me to shine. Where He wants US to be. Where He wants US to shine. My hands are open.  My head is bowed. I sit here with horrible grammar, run-on sentences, fragments, and then I stir. In my soul, I stir. And, I sing. And, it is a cold and broken Hallelujah. But, it is a Hallelujah nonetheless.

And, as hard as it is in my gypsy, stir-crazy, over-extended soul to be patient. I am trying. I am seeking Him. I am listening. I am praying. I am thankful. Because, "whatever my lot, thou hath taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul."

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you." Jeremiah 29:11

How a book changed my life...

  When I picked up a copy of "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" in the airport, I honestly don't know what I was expecting. I think I was hoping for words of advice for dealing with difficult people. I was looking for facts and suggestions for motivating others to work harder. I was looking for SOMEthing. I reached a certain part of the book that talks about "beginning with the end in mind." Basically, as morbid as it is, it encourages the reader to think about their funeral. Sick, right? Well, I had a few hours on the plane with no internet and nothing else to read so I kept reading. I started to think about the words I had read. I scribbled characteristics in the book (GASP, yes really.) that I would like to be remembered for when I die. Stay with me friends, stay with me.

  I continued to read. The next part of the book encouraged the review of the previously scribbled characteristics. The book stated that, regardless of whether I was aware of it or not, those "characteristics" were my definition of success. That, if I am able to embody all of those characteristics, I will be happy. I will feel successful. Interestingly enough, none of the characteristics were a reflection of income.

  After I got through that "aha moment," it was time to plane hop. So, I grabbed my luggage, highlighter, and did the terminal shuffle to my next plane. After getting settled, plugging in my headphones and opening the book, I reached the next game changer.

  The book talks about a "personal mission statement," that encompasses the characteristics previously discussed. Something literally came over me. I don't know how to explain it, quite honestly. I turned to the back of the book, where i found a few blank pages. I wrote the following with no scribbling, no backspaces. The words were coming faster than I could get them on paper. Tears came to my eyes as I realized what my "mission statement" has been for a long time. Please find my reflections below. I have written the words exactly as they are. Forgive the lack of commas, paragraphs, and repetition.

12/18/2014 
   I know I am on the brink of something. Some job, some opportunity, some task that is much larger than I am.  I will affect many people in a positive way, I will lead, I will change others, I will change things, and I too will be forever changed. That is my hope. I trust the process. I trust the timing. I trust that I will have the drive I need, the support I need, the acceptance I need, the people around me that I need, and the past experiences that I need. I trust that each challenge, each step will be exactly as it should in order to affect those who should be affected and to only make me a better, more loved and more significant person.

   I realize that I am exactly where I need to be right now and that I have "a clearly defined end for the beginning." I realize that if I continue to make choices with my values, goals, insight, and vision in mind, I will continue on my personal path to success. I realize that compromising my moral obligation and need to make this world a better place, a safer place, a more kind place is going to take me off my path to my self-defined path of success.

   I vow to myself that in my career and in my day to day life that I will not compromise my will and desire to provide my children with a safe, loving, accepting home and education. Nor will I compromise or jeopardize anyone else's ability to do so for their own children. I make a conscious effort to reach out to leaders and mentors, to use tools and people God has placed before me, including the walk and words of Jesus. I will look towards others for solutions, for guidance, and for vision when mine becomes foggy by challenges larger than I. I will remember that I will not win the battle if it means losing the war.

   I pray for clear eyes, and I pray for mentors. I pray that I meet and become interdependent with like and unlike minds. I pray for strength that comes from believing in what you do and doing what you love. And, I pray that I have just enough time to do all of my life's work as a leader, employee, friend, wife, and mother. I pray for the unwavering faith needed day to day, moment to moment, that will sustain my efforts in times I feel like giving up or walking away. I pray for patience and i pray for understanding. I pray that through the rest of my life's work, I never lose sight of my impact- my life's impact on others. I pray that I never lose sight of the obligation to the ones I am responsible to and the ones I am responsible for.

  I pray that at the end of it all, I am able to reflect on 12/18/2014 and the reading/reflecting on  the principles in this book as well as the work/opportunities ahead and know that I have created, have been a part of, and have dedicated my breath to a world much bigger than the world within the confines of my home and my family.

   It is my heart's prayer that the work, my job, my career will be an inspiration to my children, my family, and my friends. It is my hope that in choosing to step out of my comfort zone in my career and having faith in the process, the people, and the Hand of God, that nothing will be impossible.

   It is my goal not to compromise my family or ethics, my dreams, my values, or morals in order to temporarily better myself. It is my prayer that my children and my husband will never feel that I didn't have enough time for them but that every.single.minute with them was nurturing, was leading them in thought, work, word, or deed.

  I pray for wisdom. And, for the ability to balance my work and life at home. I pray for the means necessary to adjust the balance as needed. I pray for the awareness and ability to spend individualized time with each of the 4 children that I have. I want to ensure that they feel that they are uniquely and equally loved and adored for the beautiful and talented, gifted people that they are. I pray to never lose the ability to "make time" for each of them individually and that the individual time leads to 4 very special relationships with them. I also pray that this fundamental and unconditional love will inspire them and remind them of how interconnected and interdependent we are as a family and as a world. I pray that they continue to teach me and that I continue to teach them. I pray that I help them to become confident, kind, tolerant people who share my drive to change the world by helping people.

  I pray that my husband continues to value my work, not only for the financial resource it is for our needs, but that he is able to see how important my work is to me. I pray that my work, my character, my walk of life encourages him and inspires him. I pray that my life is proof that God exists and that God loves him. I pray that he continues to be here for me to provide reassurance and remind me of my vision, my path, my goals, and my commitment when I become tired, or overcome by one of the many challenges ahead. I pray that he will never lose sight of his impact on my life and the lives of our children. I pray that he is able to see with clear eyes and a thankful heart this journey and progression we are so lucky and fortunate to share. More than any hope I have for my husband, I pray that he continues to respect me and adore me. That he continues to test me, challenge me, care for me, and grow with me, hand in hand, no matter how far apart until my very last breath.

  I have always felt that I love my kids more than anyone else loves theirs. I have always felt that I love my husband more than anyone else loves theirs. I am beginning to see, we all have the same love, the same passion, the same power, and the same obligation to SHOW it. I pray that in the days, weeks, months, career, and life ahead that I am able to communicate my love in everything that I do.

This is my vision.
This is my dream.
This is why I am here.
This is success.
I am going for it.

Dear Lord,
  Strengthen my hands, open my eyes, and send me. I love you and I am thankful for it all and so very undeserving.
Amen.

-12/18/2014

Dreaming

    I'm not sure if it's the magic of turning 30 or knowing that I'm finished having children that has me so wrapped up in tomorrows. Regardless, I have been consumed with daydreams lately. Vivid, reach out and touch, see it like it's there daydreams. I have (of course) been doodling them, and fragmenting them and putting them in my sketchpad. However, it's time for me to sit down and put them up for you. And me. And, my kids.

    Let me start by saying that I believe in the power of dreams. I believe in faith. And, I know that when dreams are tangible, you work harder for them and know they are coming. This is my offering. These words are full of hope and power. I do not put my worth in earthly things. I know that things can be easily taken away in an instant. That being said, I lay the foundation for these dreams with thanksgiving. I am not worthy enough to have all of the things I desire. I think that it isn't the brick and mortar that I crave when I describe them, it is the feeling, the sounds, the smells, the grass stains. Please know before you think I want a big house and a lot of showy things. It's quite the opposite actually.

  You can see it from the street, up on a hill surrounded by thick, full trees. The front yard is littered with fallen pecans. The mailbox stands slightly crooked at the end of the gravel drive. As you pull in the driveway, I can hear you from inside. The gravel, rocks, dirt pop against your tires. You look to the left and see the back porch. Of course, this is how friends and family enter the house. 4 firm steps lead the way up to the back porch.It's wide, it's deep. And, the wooden slats have a few lifted nails that prove they have stood the test of time. As you look to the far left from the top porch step, you can see the swing at the end. You can hear the extra chains on each side clank and clang as they dance in the breeze. The porch swing is painted white. You notice that in a few spots the paint is chipped and can almost hear the songs we'll sing while gathered around it.  Looking at the door, you notice that there's a screen door. Not too common for houses these days. Yes, my screen  door will be quick. You swing it open and I can hear it creaking from the front bedroom. It slams into your rearend and you knock on the thick glass. The glass is thick and not perfectly clear because it's old and starting to show signs of weathering. The piles of firewood to the right of the door against the far end of the porch tell you that in the winter, this home is full of warmth. You can practically taste the hot cocoa as you think about it.

  Inside, you are in the kitchen and see that (of course) there's a window over the sink. At the top of the window is another window, hanging. It is a stained-glass that looks like it came out of an old house. It hangs in front of the window and casts yellows and greens, blues and reds all over the kitchen. You feel like it's bright and airy. The floors are made of hardwood. You notice that they are very dark. So dark that you have to strain to see the individual pieces. The smell of fresh baked cookies hits you in the face and you close your eyes and just inhale. I invite you in for a cup of tea and take you to the sun room. We have a few white wicker pieces in there. A circular braided rug of all colors ties everything together and from the windows in the sunroom you can see birdfeeders and a birdbath in the distance outside. You notice that the paint in the house looks so thick that it surely must add to the structure and foundation of the home. With that many coats of paint, it will surely withstand thunderstorms and stay insulated.

  The door knobs throughout the home are all made of glass. They have skeleton key holes but the keys are long gone. The humidity makes some doors difficult to open and close at times. Just as the floor creaks in certain spots, I have memorized these traits and dance around them with ease, music to my ears.

  The tiles in the bathrooms are old. Thick. Surely from the 60s, you think. But, cobalt blue and charming. The faucets in the bathrooms are old as well. There's a cold and a hot. Separate. You touch the porcelain handles and smile, thinking that your grandmother used to have a sink like that. They squeak when they turn. The cold comes out frosty and of course, the hot takes a minute to warm up.

  Passing by the bedroom, you notice the old chest at the end of the bed. Cedar. You imagine that it's full of quilts, granny squared, homemade. The cat pays you no mind as you walk by.

  I thank you for stopping by, see you to the door. Dig out an old glass vase and grab some kitchen shears. "You have to take some of these hydrangeas with you to brighten up your kitchen." I hurry out past you to cut them. The garden hose that is "just long enough" to water all the flowers and the kids snakes around the edge of the bush and I fill up your vase just enough. There's "just enough" grass to cut in the summer. A sleepy weeping willow lines the far edge of the yard and you see a huge old tire hanging from a thick, yellowed rope. You can almost hear the laughter from the kids. You're sure I have to repeatedly call them in as day turns to night.

 The clothesline is placed in a sunny spot, away from the dirt drive. You imagine the crispy feeling of blue jeans after they've been drying on the line all day and can't remember the last time you wore a pair that had been line dried. The sunflowers sway in the evening breeze and you climb back in your truck.

  "Come back to visit real soon," I say. "We'll have watermelons, fresh corn, squash, and tomatoes very soon," I add. And, you smile, because you know. You know my dreams are here. And, for a minute you think about the ease, the air. You think about memories, love, and summertime. And, you feel welcome.

I'm looking forward to these things. These memories, these emotions. I'm looking forward to knowing that my hard work and sacrifice have provided the things that I want in life. I hope that I'll have you then. I hope that you and I will still be close friends. I have a lot to learn. Canning vegetables and growing watermelons, chopping wood and yes, revisiting long division with the kids as they do their homework.

Stay hungry, stay humble.

All my heart,

Kim

Dreaming of sand, salt, sea

   I don't know how long it took for me to settle in. To know that this, THIS was it. That moment, it doesn't just come with bells and trumpets. It creeps in quietly, like a summer storm. No, I didn't see it coming. It didn't happen quickly. In one moment, when the sea was pulling away from my toes only to come back and kiss them again, I knew. And, in that moment, I had no schedule, no time. I was one little dot. In the middle of nowhere. Just as the sea was washing over my chipped toenail polish, it was carrying pieces of me back out with it. Pieces, broken pieces I realized, were being carried out to the sea. Maybe the sea is full of everyone's broken pieces. And, when your toes sink into the sand, you get a piece in return. An exchange of souls. An exchange only a person like me could understand. My broken soul, my many many missing pieces. No questions, no answers, no talking. Just repeated exchanges with every movement. Towards and away, towards and away, perpetual, circular, and never ceasing. Effortless, dependable, constant. The only variation that comes is when the moon comes out to play, to tug more, grasping my hands and willing me to walk farther out to reach the sea. Most days, I sit there. I really sit. Legs out in front with my knees bent, arms behind me, and neck arched up to the sky. Most days, I let every sense soak it in, this vitamin from the sea. I hear the waves coming, so violent and quick. Then, I hear them break and scatter to touch me with rolling bubbles. I smell the mist, the salt as it splashes and I taste it sometimes when I am caught off guard  distracted by my own prayers, lost. I see the seagulls chase the setting sun and know that even they are pulled, tugged, and forever changed by this sea.
    This realization, this "sinking in" is all that I need. I wander down to the shoreline in the mornings. I dapple with my toes there and get my joy cup filled up. Then, after an unknown amount of time, before the sun is too high and too hot, I return back to my sanctuary on the shore.
   The weathered, chipped, creaky steps have no splinters. The wood is worn smooth from years of me trekking in and out. This is always the first sign that I am home. The edges of my steps hold trinkets from my early mornings of beach-combing  Shells, beautiful shards of glass in frosted shades of brown, green, clear, and blue are coupled with twisted driftwood and hanging bits of stubborn seaweed. They are a welcome sight.
   As my bare feet feel remaining grits of sand hit the first step, a light sea breeze makes my wind chime dance and dangle. The swing rocks just slightly while it's overlapping chains hanging from the porch compete for sound before flying away down the beach.
  The screen door also gets carried away in a little gust of wind as I open it and head inside. It doesn't startle me when it slaps against the side of the house. There's no need for a key here. So, I lean over and brush my ankles off and head inside. When I turn back around to latch the screen door with the eye hook, I notice that the clouds are heavy with rain and I can smell a storm on the horizon.

time goes by...

To get to the computer in the kitchen, I wade through the laundry. Burp cloths, soft baby blankets in blue and pink and Thomas the Train tshirts stained with lunch and muddy socks. I make my way to the computer, take a deep breath and have a minute to myself. I hitup Youtube for a few favorite songs and am able to have a few minutes of "ME" time. The beebs are all sleeping. Baby A and Baby B are in their room with the fan on low wearing fleece zippy jams. Sethie is lying horizontally in our bed with our favorite down comforter and Jay is tinkering in the garage with a friend on his car. Dishes are in the sink. The laundry needs to be rotated. There's a stinky stain in the downstairs toilet that has been bothering me for 2 days.
Time is going by quickly. The days are filled with whining, spit up, bottle-washing, and grilled cheese sammies. Katie's hair is whispy, falls into her eyes when I change her shirts. Isaac drools more than any other child we have. When you put him in the bouncer, he goes to town and drips and drips like he has a hole in his chin. He grins and grins, yells and hums. Katie starts up and it sounds like a squealing chorus of piglets. Sethie and Parker race their cars on the hardwoods in front of the bouncers. To the kitchen and back to the kitchen and back. The sirens and engine sounds echo and get mixed like smoke into the air with squeals and jumps. It's loud. I ask the boys to settle down. No running. Someone is going to get their finger run over. The thought crosses my mind to get the crayons. I'm packing the diaper bag with clean bottles and formula for the road.
Now it's quiet and I'm tired. I'm sitting here listening to sweet country songs like Miranda Lambert's "house that built me" and James Taylor's "Sweet Baby James." I think about how tomorrow maybe I'll have a little more patience. Maybe tomorrow I'll get down on the floor and race cars. Maybe tomorrow I'll peel the wrapper off of a crayon. Just last week, before going to work Sethie and I went for a walk to the mailbox..just the two of us. I found some crunchy leaves for him to jump on and talked with him about the leaves and autumn. I told him that it was my favorite time of the the year. I told him that I loved him. I squeezed him. He ran as fast as he could back to the house from the mailbox. I looked up to the sky and thanked my god for this place in my life. I thanked him for fixing the broken place in my heart from long ago. I thanked him for the crisp air. In fact, I don't find myself asking god for much. I find myself saying thank you an awful lot. Little baby acorns, the pretty little pink things we have for my Katie. I thank him for the way Isaac Reid squeezes and pinches the fat behind my arm when I hold him. I thank him for the way Isaac sucks his thumb the way I did as a baby. None of the others have. I find myself thanking god that Katie has 3 brothers to watch out for her and help make her strong.
You just don't think when your child is small that in a few years, you are going to look back and ask where the time went. The truth is, it goes by fast. I wish that I could carve out more time to write it down. To somehow preserve it. So, later I can pick it up and cherish it all over again. It's fall in NC. Jay just came in from the garage and I asked for a quick snuggle hug before he went back outside. He put his arms around me and I buried my forehead right in the nape of his neck and inhaled him. He is cold and warm at the same time. He smells like oil and man-deoderant. I inhale more. I am filled up. My cup is filled up. He doesn't notice the laundry. He moves the dishes from one side of the sink to the other to wash his hands. He pays no mind to them. I see his boxers peeking out of those old jeans he has on and I thank god for them too. They've been through a few years of sleepless nights, survived spitup and blowout diapers. They've been washed with cheap detergent and folded with quick hands. He has worn them when we have danced in the kitchen and he has worn them when he is too tired to take them off before crashing in the bed.
The truth is, we don't have any of this figured out really. The laundry lives from clean basket to dirty. The dishwasher runs daily.
I can't wait to breathe him in before I go to sleep. To snuggle right up to him...and fall asleep with the rise and fall of his chest. With every breath in and out I will fall asleep thinking thank you-out. Thank you- in. Thank you-out. My heart is held together with names. Jay. Seth. Katie. Isaac. Parker. The family that I always wanted. Thank you.

Ain't as good as I'm gonna get, but better than I used to be...

Beautiful things today...

Enjoy a few pictures. Happy 4th!

heartstrings

So, I'm at work. Night 3 of the week. I'll be off until Friday night. And, I have a heavy heart here. I really feel like I need to write about it to have my feelings out. But, if I honestly start right now...I think I will be a tearful, sopping mess. So, I will blog about it after I go home and have had some rest. No worries friends, it isn't anything going on with me personally. It's about a little patient that has pulled my heart out of my chest. I hope that God watches over her, loves her, wraps his arms around her and counts all of her tears. The Bible says that God knows the hairs on our heads and does hold all of our tears. He loves her. Unsure of why I am feeling this way about someone that really isn't even my patient. Amazed that I could be so moved and so vulnerable to these feelings.
Dear God in Heaven,
I hope that you hear my heart tonight. I hope that you hear my internal sobs and are holding the tears in your hands. I really hope that the circumstances that I cannot see are different that what I think that they are. I don't know why this little girl has come into my life and I don't know why I feel this longing and hurt for her. I hope that things get figured out really soon and that when she grows up, she forgets this pain.
I know that you hear me. I know that you hear me. HEAR me God, HEAR me. You said, let the children come to me. I know you love her. I know you HEAR me.
Amen.

I will blog more about this later.
I will squeeze my babies first. And thank my god for them and every.breath.they.take.

Kimmie

Sethie's Work

   Do you see the magic balls below? Let me tell you how they came about. Sethie wakes up every morning with the sun. He wakes up with work to do. He works on mixing my lotions and soaps by pouring them into the bathtub. He works on climbing in the pantry to reach the oatmeal. He works on bananas and was found to have eaten THREE the other morning (holy potassium batman!). So, you see...he works. 

    He also likes to go in my bathroom drawers. I have reminded him countless times that the drawers are "mommy's space" and that he is NOT to mess with them. He likes the colorful things, the chainy things, and the shiny things I guess. I don't know. 

    Yesterday I went to get ready for work and found these two hairties of mine hanging from the cabinet in the bathroom. A quiet sign that he had been there long before me. So, I called for him. I could hear him running from downstairs. When he reached me in the doorway of the bathroom, he gave me that grin. You know the grin. The grin that says, "you can't get mad at ME." I walked him into the bathroom, holding his arm tightly of course and pointed at the hairties hanging from my little cabinet doors. "What is THIS Sethie?" He shrugged his shoulders. No answer. So, I yelled at him, "What did mama tell you about going into MY things?!"  He shrugged his shoulders again. Now, by this point, I'm really annoyed and huffy puffy. I'm thinking to myself, "what am I going to do with this kid of mine?" Then, he says in his perfect, sweet voice, "Mom, these are your magic balls. I got them out for you so that you could see dem." 

    Like the Great Wall of China I shattered. And, I thought about rules and boundaries, respect and obedience. I thought about all of those things, then I bent down. I put my arms around him. After being quiet for a moment, I said to him, "Sethie, I have been looking everywhere for those magic balls, I sure am glad that you found them for me." He nodded his head, obviously proud of himself, smiled and ran out of the bathroom. 

   There I stood, looking at these ordinary old hair ties. I thought about how pretty and sparkly they were. I thought about how cheap they were and how they were like the ones mama used to put in my hair when I was a little girl. And, I left them there, hanging. I just cannot bear to move them. 

   This little boy of mine teaches me so much. They aren't hurting anything by being there. Sure, they aren't tucked away nice and neat. They aren't organized in my drawer where I keep all of my other hair ties. They are quite strange just being there. I mean, what would someone think that came over and saw them just hanging there? WEIRD! 

   I love this about my Sethie. I love that he gets into things. I love that he is curious. I love that he believes that these hair ties are magic. There's no harm in leaving them there. I cherish them now. You hear me? Cherish them. And here I was yelling and yelling and getting frustrated and huffing and puffing. Who gives a rip that they are there. 

   I am so thankful for Sethie. I am thankful to my hubby for helping me make him so pretty. I mean, he's pretty. And, I am thankful to my god for favoring me with all of these loves. I pray that he continues to open the eyes of my heart so that I can see things the way that my little Sethie does. Open the eyes of my heart.

Amen. 

Brewing a post

I've got an exciting post brewing over here. I'm talking really something you're going to want to read. I just need a few minutes of interrupted computer time for uploading pictures and writing. Right now, I don't have time..but soon friends. Soon.
Stay tuned!
Namaste.

Kimmie

Well-rested? NAH!

After getting off of work the other morning, like usual, I came home and crashed after a warm shower. For some reason, the shower always sucks the energy from my marrow after a long night at work. Anyways, I slept most of the day (shout-out to my hubsie) and then slept ALL night that night as well. I was also lazy yesterday and napped with Sethie. Then, I FOUND myself snuggling with him when he went to sleep. I woke up in a haze. It was dark, Isaac was crying. I looked at my phone and it was 6:30am! I must have slept all night! Now, it's 8:40am and somehow I've accomplished a load of laundry, breakfast and thinking about my next cup of coffee. Hmm...I'm wondering and hoping if I was just so behind with sleep that a few good nights really did something to me. I mean, we are talking MOTIVATED here. Well, the dishes are still clean in the dishwasher so I GUESS I could be doing that but...instead, I'm blogging. Hey, I've got priorities people.  Who do you think I am?
Meanwhile, I've been rocking out to this awesome video over and over on youtube this morning. HEY YOUTUBE, GET A REPEAT! You've probably heard a blip of the song from the new Internet Explorer commercial. The actual video is a little odd, okay downright different. Medieval if you will. Here's the link...ready, set, LAUNDRY!

Don't forget that fuzzy lint trap! Mine was extra fuzzy from the baby blankets. AWW..

 Okay, well, better than the link, the video is right there. Told you, MEDIEVAL.

You can thank me later.
Kimmie

For my babies...

Hold your head up high babies.

Harm no one babies.

Live simply babies, stick together babies.

Seek the truth babies. Just keep going babies.

Believe you can babies.

Smile a LOT babies.

Tomorrow is a new day babies.

It's okay to cry babies.

You can do WHATEVER you want babies.

I'm proud of you no matter what babies.

Have faith in the FACT that things will work out babies.

Be kind babies.

Be proud of each other and proud of yourselves babies.

Listen to others babies.

No drugs and drink in moderation babies.

Your lives have meaning babies.

If I could hold you forever in my arms, I would babies.

Don't settle for less babies.

Hold hands babies.

Don't steal, babies.

Donate time, not money babies.

Pray to your own God babies.

Know you are loved babies.

Know you are loved babies. 

Mama will forever love you, sweet babies.

Gummy Grins and Squishy Babies

Some days are easier than others. Let's face it. There are days that work out just the way you would have wanted them to. Everything runs smoothly, you make all the stoplights, you are 5 minutes early everywhere you go. There are days when not a muscle aches, not a joint is sore and not a sad thought crosses your mind. Do we expect all days to be this way? Of course.  How do we handle it when things are all a giant heaping mess? You walk into the kitchen to spilled oatmeal all over the floor, open the refrigerator to find that the milk has expired, go to make a sandwich and the bread is hard. There are days when the water takes too long to get hot, the bags in the chip bag are all crushed, your head hurts, your ankle is sore, and you are burning up hot because you wore long pants on the hottest day of the year. You check the bank account to find MUCH less money than what you thought you should have. The grey clouds that were only threatening and sleepy when you walked in to Target decide to let out BUCKETS on your head as you walk to your car on your way to a dressy dinner and your mascara runs like there's no tomorrow. Which day do you have more of? Does this depend on where you are in your life? Maybe. Does this depend on how busy you are in your life? Maybe. Is it luck? Chance? DESTINY? Do we tell ourselves those things to make ourselves feel better? To make ourselves feel less responsible? Feel deserving when things go terrific? How do we ensure that the moments that we have and REMEMBER are more of the terrific ones? How do we slow down the hands of time so that we can cherish and sop up the moments, days, weeks, years that are full of joy? How do we force ourselves to close our eyes and put it all in perspective? Maybe: Surround yourself with positive people. Only spend time with people concerned with what you're doing and where you're going. Ignore people and make them a last priority if they are always talking about your past. Schedule everything else around the things that are important to YOU. Dream a lot. Read a lot. Write a lot. Pray a lot. Accept a lot. Listen a lot. Just. Keep.Going. A LOT. Take lots and lots of pictures of things that define you or that you want to define you and have them ready at a moment's notice to pick you up when you are down. To remind you of your definition. To push away the mean things that your mind tries to tell you that you are. To recenter. To remember your purpose. Share your hardships with others so that no one walks around thinking you are perfect. Confide in your friends and let them confide in you. And, no matter what they tell you...love them anyways. In doing all of these things, find a way to love the hard moments, weeks, months, years anyways. Love yourself anyways. SHINE anyways.

I write all of these things with a heavy heart. For whatever reason, things that have happened to me that I have survived and battled through, that I have refused to let define me, that I have clenched my teeth to smile through are attacking me boldfaced again full circle. And, trying to rob my joy. I want to run outside and yell to the universe,"YOU will NOT shake my spirit. You will NOT get the best of me. You will not define me, control me, cage me and imprison me. Not one.more.day." I close my eyes and try to find the power and strength that I KNOW is there. I try to muster a smile within. Knowing all of the blessings before me, all of the sunshine within my soul far outweighs the anchor within. Somedays, it all goes wrong. Somedays, I forget who I am. I cannot hear the voice of where I'm going because of the voice constantly reminding me of where I've been. And it eats and eats and eats at me. And, I hate it. I hate that voice. All of the hypocrites I have ever met live there. They live in that nasty, snarly, devilish, joy-robbing voice. And, I hate them. I hate the reminder of where I've been.

And then. I look at my children. I look at my husband. I look at my soul for what I KNOW that it is. And, all of a sudden I push harder. I yell louder to those voices, I try again. I keep trudging, I raise my chin, I look to the sun and I begin again. I begin again. Anew. I know that they are not concerned with where I have been, they are going WITH me. They know the fighter in me. They know the love that I am, that I have, that I radiate. They know that I walk on the side of sunshine and scowl at the rain. They see my strength, my courage, my sacrifices and they KNOW I'm headed down a sunny road. 

For anyone who is stuck where they've BEEN and cannot see where they are going...I know. I KNOW how hard it is to raise your chin up to the sun when all you hear are the negative hypocrites pulling you backwards. I am there with you. I am in the mud. I am in the sinking sand. And I am fighting it with every cellular part of my body and soul. I KNOW that we were not destined for sadness, we were not destined for misery. That's why there's so much love in our lives. 

And, I thank my God for this struggle. I thank God for this slough, mud, dirt, grime and ice. Because without any of it, I would not know where I'm SUPPOSED to be. 

If a gummy grin does not change your life...is there anything that will?

I am saved every day. I struggle every day. I battle everyday.

And, I win EVERY day because of the blessings that have been sent to me. 

Destiny? Fate? Chance? Luck?

I don't know. 

Maybe because when it was bad, it was REAL bad.

SIKE!

Okay, okay...so I haven't COMPLETELY broken off my commitment with facebook. I mean, I have people to keep in touch with here. And, when I commit, I COMMIT. So, I have tweeked some privacy settings and am hoping that will give some peace of mind. But, let's face it, I will be posting pictures here and THIS isn't private. Ah well, you win some and you lose some, right? I guess we could all go nuts if we sat thinking about all the weirdos in the world. Speaking of weirdos..
      Our old neighbors with the crazy annoying and peeping tom kid finally moved out. Now we have some folks living next door that are about our parent's age. They are a little odd too but at least they aren't peeping in the windows. Well, that we KNOW about! It's unfortunate that we have a shared driveway. I mean, it kindof FORCES you to interact you know? But, it's all good. They seem really really nice and aren't slobs when it comes to their yard. It's nice not to have to look at this HUGE trampoline outside the kitchen window anymore.
      We just got back from the Art Museum. We put the babies in the stroller and cruised around. The babies do FANTASTIC outside when they are moving. Seth needed to burn off some crazy toddler energy and the weather was PERFECT. They have this really neat amphitheater outside with a huge stage. Sethie of course had to go see what this stage thing was all about. Who knows, maybe he'll like the stage and decide he wants to always be in the spotlight. He sure likes the spotlight now, that's for sure! It's always nice to get out and get some fresh air and the art museum is free so that's a bonus. Sometimes we take sandwiches, chips, and juiceboxes or we pick up some Chic-fil-A. But, today we went without lunch and had just as much fun. Sethie was picking up the white flowers that grow in clover patches for me. How sweet is THAT? Precious, I know. I mean I'm a little partial to him but still.
     I am now working back at the hospital again. I am back in the Birthing Center. I worked there about 5 years ago and left because I wanted a little more excitement among other things. What I found is that the grass is always greener on the other side. But, if you take the time to water your own grass, it will be just as green. I feel like I like taking care of the moms and babies. I'm practically a professional :) And, no one is trying to die on me. I'm not constantly dealing with all of those ethical,moral, and social issues like I was in the ED or the ICU and quite frankly, I think I would lose my mind if I had to continue to do that! I find that the patients and their families are MOST of the time pretty appreciative and receptive to all the newborn/parent teaching. It's my favorite part of my job. That, and swaddling the little beebees up super snuggly. The twins are too wiggly now for swaddling. It's sad when a baby reaches that point of maturity where they just wiggle and wiggle and fight and push and poot until they work their way out of a swaddled blanket, right?!
     I hope that you can see with these 2 posts (IN ONE DAY) that I am going to try to make a valiant effort to continue to post and vent, divulge and veer off topic into randomness more frequently than I had been. I think I realized that when your status updates start getting really long, it's time to BLOG. So, welcome! I hope that you continue to check back, leave me a comment or two, and tell me how I can follow your blog too. I'm a big blog reader. Let me tell you, having 4 kids under 5 years old has a way of keeping you on the couch at night when they finally close their eyes. I'd love to read what is going on in your life and discover new ways to stay sane, be more efficient, more organized (with less work) and to take it one day at a time. Any wisdom you may have or comiserating you may do will be much appreciated.

Cheers to Blogger!!
Kimmie
PS.. Enjoy some pictures from our day!

Broke up with FB

Hey! Can you believe this? I have broken up with Facebook. Yep. Dunzo. Call me crazy. It's such a fantastic way to keep in touch with family members and friends and share pictures, frustrations, and get great mommy tips. But, it also makes me a little crazy. Let's face it. There are "friends" that maybe I don't want to see all the pictures of my kids. There are "friends" that I don't want to know when we are going on vacation or when we are going to the doctor. I mean, I don't know. I thought about deleting EVERYONE but my nearest and dearest. But, then you have the whole dilemma of what to say when people find out that you are friends with some and not with others. So, there. I did it. It was painful at first. Especially when I woke up this morning and had no newsfeed to read. No details about everyone's lives. When they are working, when they are sleeping, what they are eating. No complaints about our backwards weather, no new pictures of their smiling babies or the mess they woke up to in the kitchen. Perhaps I'll really miss it and reactivate my account. I tried to log back in to look at my own photos, but it appears that reactivates the account. SOOO...maybe fb and I will have an off-again, on-again relationship. Regardless, I feel like a little bit of a weight has been lifted. What does that mean for my blog? Well, let's see. I've been broken up with facebook for hours and here I am, writing an ACTUAL post on my own blog. The first in quite a while. This is a step in the right direction. Perhaps all the facebook energy can go into an actual documented blog. Imagine what this is going to do for my grammar! Maybe the energy from facebook can go into finding better layouts, more ideas, and connecting with other moms via blogging instead of facebook. I'm excited about this. I'm waiting for all of our mutual friends to ask Jay where I am and why I am no longer on facebook. I'm also wondering if he'll be able to take the plunge as well. I'm going to try to resist the urge to ask for his phone to catch up on the latest and greatest mutual buddies. I'm also going to try to see how I can make it easier to blog from my ipad. Too bad there's no app on the ipad for that!! BOO!
So, for the much needed update!!

Katie and Isaac are growing and smiling. Laughing and cooing, and only seem content when we are OUT OF THE HOUSE. Lord, it's frustrating on rainy days having Seth in the house as well as the two of them. They slept from about 1:30am lastnight until 7:30 this morning and let me tell you...it was good. REAL good. Bojangles sweet tea and french fries good. We had a rough start of the week after vaccines on Friday. Ugh, don't get me started. Having 2 babies cry for no reason and a toddler whine because that's what they do best is frustrating. Not to mention the stuck inside thing due to the rainy weather here. They have officially moved on to 3 month clothing. I think that's a pretty big (and sad) deal due to the fact that they are a little over 2 months old and twinsies. Katie weighed 10lbs 10 oz at her 2 month checkup and Isaac came in second place at 10lbs 3 oz. They have recently started interacting more with us and with their toys. They both LOVE their mobiles and laugh, coo, and smile at them both while in their swings and in the crib. We are crazy and have 2 mobiles on their shared crib, one for each end :)

I've got to run. I'm hoping to be able to carve out some set time soon to catch up more specifically. To let you know how I'M doing and how things are for ME.

Love to you all,
Kimmie