early voting

Your comments on my last post made me cry. In a good way. I wrote it to process through some of that unshakable fear. So thanks for being my sounding board.

The car is totaled. We figured it might be, as there were lots of "crumbs" on the street after the accident. (The twins tend to think of messes in terms of food. You understand.) I guess that means we are in the market for another car. And The Man seems to think this one needs to be a mini van. I am officially and absolutely a mom now.

In other news, I voted today. I stood in line for an hour and twenty minutes. I found a comfortable spot against a piece of wall in the gym of the recreation center. Then, I watched along with my fellow voters as thirty senior citizens did slow bicep curls to the tune of The Phantom of the Opera. If I were 75 years old and showed up for my Friday morning exercise class to find an audience of bored voters wrapped around the gym, there is a strong possibility I would fake a heart-attack to get out of it.

I brought a book because I knew there would be a wait. There was a lesbian couple in front of me and a woman behind me with strong coffee breath who was very concerned about her name change form. My book became more of a prop as I became increasingly interested in the people around me. Guess what Coffee Breath and the Chatty Beekeeper behind her talked about? Coffee. And Bees. Not kidding.

Turns out Coffee Breath is a divorced nurse who was married for a year when she and her husband decided to call it quits. And Chatty Beekeeper is trying to find his way in a single world after so many years married.

He is going to a concert tonight.

My eyes shut instinctively and my body tensed in anticipation of an awkward exchange. Is he going to ask her to join him?

He didn't. I exhaled in relief, glad I didn't have to listen to her hazelnut flavored rejection of him, right there in the line to cast our vote for the next President of the United States.

Have you voted yet? What conversations did you eavesdrop on? If you're waiting to vote on Election Day, do me a favor and listen. We could write a best-seller on these voter line conversations. I know we could.

even the darkness is not dark to You

Most days, I conduct my business under the illusion of control. I make decisions about what to make for dinner and where to send my kids to school and how to juggle my time. For the most part, the days pass in a predictable pattern and there is an underlying sense that I have things under control.

On Monday, my family and I had a nice dinner together. The eighth day. My day of rest. We left the restaurant and loaded up the kids into our car. The Man was teasing me about buying coats for looks rather than warmth. I was teasing him for having 12 fleece pullovers. We laughed as we entered the busy intersection.

And then, another car ran a red light and our safe, warm, family car spun out of control.

Out of control. The illusion was shattered.

A scream escaped without my permission.

Our kids began to cry.

I stared into the distance, confused as to why the view through the windshield was of the restaurant we had just left rather than the opposite side of the street as it should have been. Things were not as they should be.

I heard the familiar sound of my own voice speaking with a calm that didn't reach my heart as I unsuccessfully attempted to convince our girls everything was okay.

Later, we watched as our car was towed away, and I considered the vulnerability of humanity. How, one moment you are laughing with the love of your life - lighthearted, safe, normal. And in the midst of those happy sounds, your life is interrupted with an event that is totally beyond your control.

I am without a car today. I can't tell you how little I care about that. But I was awake until 3am, stricken with worry. About what could have been. It was as though my room was filled up with fear and I was taking it in with deep breaths, allowing the dark gray of uncertainty to swirl within me and settle deep inside. The what if was haunting, pulling against my attempts to trust. What if the other car had been going even faster? What if it had been bigger? What if one of my kids...? What if my husband...?

In the midst of the fear, I sensed the Lord reminding me to rest. I prayed for the anxiety to pass. It didn't. Not for a long time, anyway. So I waited. He waited with me.

He never promises that our families will be safe. Not in the way we think. He does promise His presence, though. And if you don't know Him, you may think that is a bad trade-off. There are times when that is how it feels. I want my children. I want my husband. Today, I have them all. But control? The idea that I actually have a hand in the way things will go? The veil has been lifted on that illusion.

I am learning more about what it means to have the presence of the Creator of the Universe with me wherever I go. It is important to know I'm not alone. Especially in those moments when my life and the lives of those I love are revealed to be vulnerable. My only option is to trust in the One who holds all things together, even when they fall apart.

the eighth day

Rest. Play. Reflect. Do whatever feeds your soul.

Take one day a week to remind yourself that you are not a machine.

Rob Bell

Sunday tipped over and spilled all over Monday.
I'm allowing my soul to rest. Join me?

senior photos: take two

Last weekend, I did a photo shoot with a couple of girls who are best friends. One of them will use them for her senior photos and the other was just along for the ride. This is what happened between the mom-approved shots.

Balancing on a very small pillar.

Acting like a kid.

Trying not to laugh.

Laughing anyway.

And a little bit of dancing.

Twilight

I did not plan to write about the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer mainly because of the vampires. That is not my favorite. I have tried to explain the books without using the words ‘vampire’ and ‘love story’ in the same sentence and it is not possible.

Now please excuse me while I clumsily grope for my dignity as it flies swiftly out the window.

Seriously, here's the truth. I liked the books. However, I am not going to tell you to run to the nearest bookstore and buy the Twilight series and here's why:

• I don't want anyone to say Emily recommended they read a book about vampires. That is not what I want to be known for thankyouverymuch.
  
• Even though I liked them, my primary hangup with the series revolves around the fact that the main character had no life until she found her soul mate. I take issue. I gag on my own spittle. I object.
• Once you start it will be hard to stop until you are done. Nobody has that kind of time.

If you haven't read these books, here is the basic story line. A seventeen year old girl named Bella moves from big city Phoenix to small town Forks to live with her father. She basically hates life until she meets a fellow student named Edward. He is dazzling. He is mysterious. And, she later finds out, he is a one hundred year old vampire frozen in time at seventeen.

As I was reading, I was rooting for them, cheering with gusto. I gave myself permission to be silly and ridiculous and swoony. It was fun and entertaining. As the series continued, I honestly grew tired of cheering for them. I wanted to allow the book be what it is without over analyzing. But the codependent-you-complete-me kind of love that they had for one another was a bit over the top even though I can be a sucker for swoon.

The books are said to be clean, though dark, romance for young readers. As a mom, however, you may hesitate to share this series with its intended audience: your 13-year-old daughter. I wouldn't let mine read it. And as much as I tried not to let the vampire part bother me, there were times when it did. If you are sensitive to that, it may be something you can't overcome.

After my last post, some of you expressed concern about the dark theme of these books, questioning if it was appropriate for believers to read. I've struggled with how to address that issue, as I don't think there is one way to look at it. Since I've read all four books, I was clearly not bothered enough to put them down, but I understand why someone might be. I found this article written by Mark Matlock on Christianity Today's website that speaks to this topic, if you are interested.

I noticed another article in Leadership Journal, a magazine for church leaders. In the Toolkit section of the current issue (Vol. 29 Number 4), Twilight is highlighted as a relevant book in popular media: "While the content may be a bit racy, the novels do raise important questions about personal responsibility and consequences."

I do have specific opinions about different parts of the series, but I didn’t want to have to write this post under a spoiler alert. Perhaps I will post some of those in the comments section. So if you read the comments, consider yourself warned.

bliss for the little sis

Warning. This post has a lot of links and I am sorry. I am also sorry if you inadvertently revert back to seventh grade when everyone went on that weekend retreat except you because your Great Aunt Patsy Lou was in town and your Mom would NOT listen to reason and let you go. And then all your friends came home and talked about it and were BFFs. I really hope this isn't like that.
I spent the weekend with my sister in Nashville for BlissDom '08. If you are unfamiliar with Blissfully Domestic, you should check it out. It is an online magazine that covers a variety of topics including marriage and family, home keeping, frugal living and fashion rules - to name only a few.

Karla and Alli are the co-founders of the magazine. With the help of some fabulous sponsors (Epson and One2One Network) they hosted a conference completely free on Saturday in Nashville. That is a big deal, y'all. There was swag. There were door prizes. It was pretty much awesome. And free. Thanks to the sponsors who think those of us who blog have an influence.

The Nester was on a few of the speaking panels and I, in true little sister fashion, tagged along: completely decked out in an outfit that came directly from her closet. She has a big 'ole post on her blog that you should check out. Everything she said about everyone she met, I pretty much feel the same. And she posted stolen photos, so that's kind of exciting.

The first time I attended an event that included other bloggers was at She Speaks back in June. That is where I first met Robin of Pensieve. The Nester and I were blessed to have her as a roommate (as well of Karla, who I also met at She Speaks).
This is Robin. She is grounded and funny and has a great accent. She is the editor of Inspired Bliss and also the Religion and Philosophy editor for Blog Nosh Magazine.

If any of you are bloggers who have never met another person who blogs in real life, let me encourage you to do so. Even if it is simply someone you've been reading who you know lives close. Arrange to meet for coffee. I have discovered that the women I connect with through blogging are women I connect with in real life. Seems obvious, but you know there's always that question in the back of your mind: is this woman for real or typing from jail? In a man's body? It is the creepy Internet, after all.

Speaking of meeting other bloggers: THANK YOU for your responses to my question from Monday. I enjoyed hearing all the reasons why you write and read blogs. Overwhelmingly, we blog for connection.

I asked the same question of the women on one of the panels during the conference because I believe it is vital for us to remember the purpose behind what we do. Honestly, blogging takes up space in my psyche and I have to remember the purpose for that space. It is valuable real estate, after all. It is replacing something that previously existed in that space and without a clear purpose, I feel like I'm wasting time. I'll save that purpose for another post, though.

One last thing about the conference, I was blessed with another spontaneous surprise:
I got to meet my Fairy Blog Mother. In case you don't know what that means, she designed my blog. She did not attend the conference but she lives in the area and she and her friends Kim and Rachel got up early Sunday morning just to come have breakfast with Nester and me. I was so touched that they would go out of their way to do this. When she was designing this layout for me, we emailed a lot and kind of got to know one another. I always wanted to meet her but never EVER thought I would. A sweet gift that I didn't even know to ask for.

So that concludes my spontaneous adventure. It was a lovely, unexpected thing to be able to take off in a car with my sister and drive many hours and drink lots of coffee and eat Blizzards from DQ and laugh until we...well, you know. Speaking of underwear, I am glad to be home with a full supply.

why do you blog?

I'm back from my week of spontaneity and I look forward to telling you more about it. But first, I would love to hear from you!

In two sentences (one would be even better), I want to hear why you blog. If you can't narrow it down to one sentence, feel free to simply process in the comments section. I'm all about processing.

If you don't have your own blog, I would love to hear why you read the blogs you read. There is no right answer, of course. Just your highly valuable opinion. Now go!

spontaneous blessings

In the name of being spontaneous (yes, I'm still being spontaneous), a trip that was supposed to be two days long has turned into six. I feel 10 years younger. Especially since my mom has done my laundry. Twice.
These girls are one of the many blessings I have received on this spontaneous trip. The Nester and I made plans to have lunch with Lysa TerKeurst of Proverbs 31 Ministries. I attended several of her sessions at the She Speaks conference in June and was immediately drawn to her girlfriend speaking style and her willingness to speak truth with the perfect blend of confidence and grace. Sitting across the table from her, those qualities were displayed even more. She has a unique ability to cast vision for others and encourage them in that. If you don't know anything about Lysa or Proverbs 31, let me encourage you to check them out.

Kristen of Beautifully Imperfect called me an hour before lunch. Spontaneously. She has never called me before. She even had to track down The Man to get my number. I am so glad she did. She is a friend from my hometown who is recently married and new to this big city (some of you may remember these photos from her wedding). She heard I was visiting and hesitantly asked if we could get together. Within the hour, we were sitting for lunch together and I truly believe it was a divine appointment. She is a writer. And as we listened to her talk about how she reluctantly decided to begin writing again through blogging, I felt as though I was watching the beginning of a dream take hold in her. I can't wait to continue to know her better through her writing.

This week has been crazy and unpredictable. I'm still not home and I have a spontaneous road trip with my sister to look forward to. That's right. I am thankful for the blessings available even in the midst of chaos. I am thankful for the money to buy new underwear because I didn't pack enough. I am thankful for a sister who lets me borrow her cool clothes because I didn't bring any. Speaking of chaos, check out my first attempt at taking the above photo with the remote. I need to practice being inconspicuous.

extraordinary

During the summer when my three little darlings were all home and The Man was traveling a lot, I was hit with some powerful and unexpected emotions of insignificance. Perhaps it was because the most important thing I seemed to do all day was playing referee for twins who would not stop fighting. And I wasn't even doing it very well.

I felt small. I felt hidden. I felt overlooked. And I felt guilty. It seemed in many ways that the work my husband was doing as a youth pastor - traveling with a couple hundred teenagers to be the hands and feet of Jesus for a town who lost so much in last years floods - that work was extraordinary. And the work I was doing at home? Well, that was just expected.

I've heard all the mother's day sermons that praise moms for the work we do. I know the one liners about changing the world one diaper at a time and all that. I do believe it's true. But when you are in it, it doesn't feel true. It just feels ordinary.

An emotional woman + a husband out of town + a couple of bad days + three fighting kids = Yikes. Throw in a few hormones and you've got one discouraged mama on your hands.

In a moment of what can't be explained by anything other than the sweet hand of God, I picked up a book called The Indwelling Life of Christ by Major Ian Thomas. He is a favorite in our house. And there, on the very page I turned to, I saw this:

It is not the nature of what you do that determines the spirituality of any action, but the origin of what you do.

Well then. If what I do is done in complete dependence upon the Father, then I suppose it doesn't matter what that thing is, rather who is the one doing that thing. Is it me? Or is it Him? Who am I to decide what is extraordinary? The Father has already decided. And He says He is extraordinary. So anything I do as I depend on the Extraordinary One, well...I guess that is extraordinary, too.

clothes on our back are plenty

Hi. My name is Emily and I am spontaneous. I blame that word for the lack of a real post today because the kids and I (heavy emphasis on I) spontaneously decided to visit my parents and The Nester this week. I even packed dirty clothes because I did not have time to wash them before I came. That is how very spontaneous I am. Unfortunately, the Internet service at my parents house is also spontaneously not uploading the photos I need to include to show you about all the spontaneity. Stay tuned, because I'm taking a chance and living the wild life, baby. You won't wanna miss it. (Andy Davis, anyone?)

fiction

What began as a favor to a friend (sure, I'll read the first book in that series by the end of November so you will have someone to see the movie with even though I'm not sure if I will be interested or have time), has turned into a two week long fascination (I'll read every spare moment I can find until I finish this book because I am so incredibly interested).

I should have told myself this would happen. Because when Myself gets involved in a story, Myself cannot put said story down. Well guess what? Myself has gotten herself involved. So involved, in fact, that what was supposed to be one book has turned into four.

I have now read all four books in the Twilight series. I know.

I'm still processing what I think of them and will talk about that in a separate post (sorry to drag this on for you who haven't read these books). But one thing reading so much fiction lately has me thinking about is what makes a good story.

Stephenie Meyer says on her website that the idea for Twilight came to her in a dream a little over 5 years ago. The morning after her dream, she was compelled to record as much as she could remember of it, only to discover as she went about her day, more of the story would unfold.

The story continued to demand an outlet: "Bella and Edward were, quite literally voices in my head. They simply wouldn't shut up." Her fictional characters came to life in such a way for her that the very mind who conceived them could hardly keep up.

Writers of fiction are fascinating to me. I believe with my whole heart that fiction is the most difficult genre to write. Rephrase: good fiction is the most difficult genre to write. To create a story that is compelling, that moves, that is both believable and magical: grounded in the facts while flirting with the fantastic. It feels risky and vulnerable, the thought of writing fiction. I think we owe a debt of gratitude and respect to those who are willing to take that risk and allow their imaginations to be exposed to a world full of critics.

Now I'm off to work on my critique of the Twilight series.

kimba's in town!

Lucky me got to have brunch with Jen, Kimba, Jill, Nester, Kendra and Lauren. This is the after shot. Before brunch, I was about 20 pounds lighter. Seriously. And we are working on Jill to get a blog because it is no fun to not have your name highlighted. We had a great time together and I am so happy to have met Kimba in real life.

the grocery

The Family.

The Kids.
The Mom.

(aka: several moments of weakness in a row)

more fall

As I said yesterday, my fall decor is pretty lame. I lack confidence in the decorating department. What can I say, I have The Nester as a sister. Who can live up to that? Still, looking at all your homes on Kimba's Mr. Linky has encouraged me to share in the fun anyway. After all, it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful, right?
Take this festively decked out door, for example. I am so creative. And beginning with that will make everything else look better.
The beautiful thing about these mums with no pots is that they were really cheap at the farmers market: only two dollars.
Another cheap, potless mum. Pots are so much trouble. See? Lame.
Here are the things on my sideboard in my dining room. I found these sticks and acorns in our yard and stuck them in these jars. If I were to zoom out, you would notice that my mirror is not hung on the wall yet and one of my sideboard lamps is missing a light bulb. So I couldn't zoom out. You understand.
That's about the extent of it, folks. My fall isn't even very fall-y. It looks a bit more like spring in this photo. I get a little more brave at Christmas. Can't wait to cover that banister with garland.

the year's last, loveliest smile

Kimba over at A Soft Place to Land is having a Fall party today. I was planning to post some of my fall decor, but I'll be honest...its pretty lame. I'm thankful to her for forcing me to stop and think, though.

The seasons to me are God's gracious reminder of time passing swiftly by. I need to be reminded of that sometimes, as it is easy to forget wonder, to ignore beauty and to strangle the silence with the loud. Somehow, the sharp, confident coolness of the autumn air brings clarity of thought and heart. Clearing out the heavy, humid drudgery of September, autumn ushers in change.
The trees exchange their green summer shawls for more colorful fanfare, a reminder that even the deepest roots don't guarantee stability. Change must come. There is a time for everything. A new school year. A new President. Fresh episodes of The Office and Pushing Daisies. New. Different. Change.
I don't want to be pushed along by time, flailing and trying to keep up. I want to move with the rhythm of it, to respond to my Creator, to breathe in this cool, crisp air. I want to take time to notice the deep and the detail while living in the obvious and the practical.
According to writer William Cullen Bryant, "Autumn is the year's last, loveliest smile." And so I reflect along with creation, as it bids a golden farewell to the year that has passed. A lovely smile indeed.

cheap talk

I don't talk about politics here. But all the talking heads have got me thinking about the big picture. The thing about election season is that all the candidates have an idea of what they are gonna do. The problem with that is, it is easy to say what you would do if you were in charge. Sometimes things change when authority is actually given and you are the one responsible for all the consequences.

Decisions are rarely 100% one way or the other. Sometimes you have to work with a 49/51 balance. At least that's what my dad always tells me. It can be hard to justify that 2 in the face of 49 reasons not to.

When I was young and single, I said I would never go out in public without taking a shower, I would always have my hair fixed and I would never, under any circumstance, wear socks that did not match. I would be the mom who never let herself go. The one who cared what she looked like, no matter the cost.

That was back when I was still number one.
I agree that it is important to care about what we look like, to take pride in our appearance. I agree that political candidates have to talk about what they will change and how they will change it. It's one thing to say it, it's another thing to do it. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

sweet dreams that leave all worries behind

I want to move with my man and the children we have made to a faraway land and live off the fruit of trees and honey from the hives we tend with our own hands.

I want to walk barefoot in the grass and make sandcastles and read stories and sing.

I want my high school hair back with the corn silk curls, and I want to wear skirts that touch the ground and weave crowns made of sweet smelling flowers for hours with my girls.

I want to laugh for a week without stopping.

I want money and chocolate to grow on trees.

I want to buy a new toilet instead of cleaning my old one.

I want a maid, a hairdresser and a chef. And a milkshake. And world peace.