Vacation

A snapshot of the brewing storm, taken by my lovely sis-in-law, Lydia Grace.

We are huddled on the condo porch overlooking the ocean and sky and everything in between. My skin is pink from the sun and my face hot from rubbing sunscreen under my eyes, which are also pink from splashing into chlorine, like the thin rim of watermelon. When I plummet into the clear glass water, I am breaking something, spilling out; I am calm and remembering—perhaps nothing worth retelling, but a kind of rebirth that sounds like a million little hands clapping under water. I hear the popping sound; I squint and swim downward from the center of my belly. Deflating, I push off the slippery bottom to the surface of this sun-filtered water, this sun-drenched honey, just as a writhing fish pops on the line—shimmering coins in the sun. 

And now I am here with them, rubbing my pink eyes. Some of us standing, some of us sitting, all of us listening to—baffled by—what should never escape us: the glory of God, the power of his mighty hand, cutting through a summer storm. 

Summer storms at the beach are ghosts that demand to be reckoned with; but this one is different. I could hum on about the way it shakes us—the fear that bubbles up when we remember just how human we are, the gushing sheets of rain that rip through the dark, billowing on rooftops and pavement, setting the street lamps on fire, as if each pelt against metal sparks and erupts: a fireworks display. I could recount how the music is sweet, how we are peeling back the edges of sky and ocean with each bolt that lights up our view, as if I would need to, when God himself is composing the flash of a photograph, reminding us where the tide and black blanket sky divide. But my words are short-lived, like the jellyfish in the sand, like the popping in my ears, the quiet pounding of feet on wet tile. We are listening to Simon and Garfunkel, the words homeward bound crackling in our ears, and that's when we know that it is all true and beautiful. 

Gifts to Remember

Today I am reflecting on the gifts of forgiveness and repentance. It's easy to live in a state of frustration because of the tension that inevitably exists for redeemed, yet sinful people pursuing godliness in a broken world. We know that our best attempts are like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6); that we will not measure up; that we miss the mark, that we all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way (Isaiah 53:6). And yet we still have this glorious calling -- we are still adopted into the family of God and we are still encouraged to pursue godliness.

"Train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance. For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe." (1 Timothy 4:7-10 ESV) 

"His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted us to his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire. For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For whoever lacks these qualities is so nearsighted that he is blind, having forgotten that he was cleansed for his former sins. Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to make your calling and election sure. . ." (2 Peter 1:3-10 ESV)

 Ever since my college days, my friends and I have always insisted that with every good thing in life there is a fine line. Striving to make your calling and election sure can quickly lead to legalism; living in freedom and the knowledge that Christ lived the perfect life so we didn't have to can quickly lead to laziness. This past Sunday, someone told me, "the doctrine of election is not a doctrine for slackers." This same person also told me that at its core, "worship is nothing more than sanctified remembering." We are called to remember our forgiveness in Christ because it stirs our hearts -- not toward a life of legalism, but a life of true heart transformation.

Whenever I think about living in this tension, I remember John's words: "My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father -- Jesus Christ, the Righteous One" (1 John 2:1). John understood that forgiveness does not dismiss our calling to obey the commands of God or to use our election as a license to sin, but to remember the "perfected" love of God. We must respond with a life of obedience. And when we sin (and John knows that we will, because we are still sinners), we must remember that Christ is our advocate. The Greek word for advocate is parakletos, a "helper," such as an attorney in a legal matter. When I read this passage in 1 John, I picture Jesus in a court room, standing on my behalf. We fall short of the glory of God. Every day. But we should not live in shame or dwell on the weight of our sin, just as we should not abandon our first love and forget the costly blood of Christ! We must dwell on the weight of his glory.

As forgiven people, washed by the blood of Christ, we can walk freely and know -- in communion and love -- that he regenerates us by his Spirit. John Calvin wrote on the gifts of forgiveness and repentance, urging us to remember that repentance is just as much the gift of God as inheriting the heavenly kingdom. "As God freely pardons our sins and delivers us by his mercy from the condemnation of eternal death, so he also conforms us to his image so that we may live unto righteousness." He continues to point out that "As God freely adopts us as his children, so he regenerates us by his Spirit in order that our life may testify that we do not falsely address him as our Father. In like manner, Christ washes away our sins by his blood and reconciles our heavenly Father to us by the sacrifice of his death. . . . The sum of the gospel here is that God through his Son takes away our sins and admits us to fellowship with him, so that we, in denying ourselves and our own nature, may 'live soberly, righteously, and godly.'" Forgiveness and repentance are to be distinguished but never separated. 

Today, I am in awe of Christ, who laid aside his crown for my soul, and for a God who does not leave anything up to me. Even repentance is a gift from him; by remembering what Christ has done, he stirs our hearts toward repentance. 

1. Sorrow and love flow mingled down!

1. Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

1. Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

1. Were the whole realm of nature mine,

1. That were a present far too small;

1. Love so amazing, so divine,

1. Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Short and Simple

Sometimes I think the only way to escape that stagnant feeling in life is to hang on to old words or songs that grip you -- I mean really, fiercely grip you. During those busy seasons, it's terrifyingly easy to drudge through it all on autopilot, moving through the motions to pay your bills on time, stick to the plan, buy the right groceries, or live for that perfect weekend and moments of luxury in the midst of the mundane. 

Some days we want it all and some days we want to let it all cave in and live unconventionally, but most of the time the driving force that propels us forward are kind words, surprising reactions to the raw truth, solitude and God's word coming alive on the page or from the mouth of a stranger in a room full of people . . . . however we experience it, there are little bits of life that wake us up. One of the reasons I love blogging is because I can go back and look at my mind wanderings and my fears . . . my moments of despair and my moments of great joy. 

I see beginnings and endings on the page, I reimagine conversations that -- for whatever reason -- struck a chord with me or mornings that made everything new. I love looking back on the start of this blog three years ago and reading about how we made room for Zoey, the silly hound dog we were so nervous to invite into our family; the quiet moments I dreamed up as a barista; the day my life was turned upside down with the possibility of a move to Houston; the promises we make to each other and the promises I make to myself; the hard days and the joyful ones; the waiting days and the welcoming home; the stories we tell ourselves; the confessions of fear; the hunger for vulnerability; the soft spots and the funny, imperfect pieces of this life . . . . I could go on and on. No matter what I am facing, there are little words that I whisper (or shout) that are made for my current season of life.

Right now, my words are short and simple:

God, come get me. 

Hearing these words -- really hearing them -- brings joy and promise. It's time to let go of the illusion of control that I have, and it's okay not to know all of the answers. 

I'm also listening to this song and writing the words on my heart:

Control

The cut is deep, but never deep enough for me

It doesn't hurt enough to make me forget

One moment of relief is never long enough

To keep the voices in my head

From stealing my peace

Oh, control

It's time, time to let you go

Perfection has a price

But I cannot afford to live that life

It always ends the same; a fight I never win

Oh, control, 

It's time, time to let you go

I'm letting go of the illusion 

I'm letting go of the confusion

I can't carry it another step

I close my eyes and take a breath

I'm letting go, letting go

There were scars before my scars

Love written ont he hands that hung the stars

Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me

oh control, 

It's time, time to let you go

Control

It's time, time to let you go

Choosing Peace and Not Neglect (And a Glorious Understanding of Life Eternal)

In the Christian life, I am convinced there is something that ties us all together, despite our unique callings, sufferings, and life choices: When the Spirit draws us near, we cannot resist the call -- whether at 3 in the morning at a Waffle House, late in the evening circled around a community of other Christ-followers, or alone in your quiet house, sipping coffee as the light pours in like honey. When He pricks our hearts, He can fill us with emotion; dread or joy bubbles up -- a numbing or a hurt, an intense serenity or resilience can well up in the most trying of circumstances. Sometimes it comes in waves or showers of blessing, restoration, hope... hours pouring over His Word or long, drawn-out evenings spent in prayer. Sometimes He whispers so quietly we barely notice it at all, except for a few small moments we stop to take a couple of deep breaths. No matter how He draws us near or why, the Holy Spirit has a way of wooing us, reminding us of our first love, and tending to our hurt, even if we don't see God's purpose in sight or trust ourselves in His hands. 

I'm beginning to see how God softens the hearts of man, and how He chooses to reveal Himself in moments we do not realize are "molding moments" -- slowly refining us according to His divine purpose and His promise to never leave us. Sometimes I will realize I've been sleep-walking through life, unaware of just how much I need His living water, until He wakes me up to comfort a friend in mourning or a friend expectantly waiting in the patience of faith. Suddenly, I am entirely aware of myself, aware that God is using me like an instrument in the lives of His children to wake them up too. He does the same for me in the lives of other people, and He calls us to Himself so we can pray, "Fall afresh on me. Come wake me from my sleep." There is something so compelling and victorious about a God who wakes us up and draws us near, allowing us to play a part in building for eternity -- as if we are flying high above ground, looking down at ourselves, because no soul has any right to claim where he or she shall be put. 

Lately, I have found myself fighting back as He wakes me from my sleep, time and time again, feeling the hurt and sting of my own abandonment to my first love. I feel the heaviness of living intentionally, because it is unnatural to recognize prayer and faith at the core of my being. If you've been reading this blog for some time, you know (however obscurely) that this is a year of healing for me, and in many ways, I am shocked at how true it is -- in more ways than I ever dared to imagine. 

But recently, I have tried the pause button on this whole healing process. I don't know if it's from exhaustion or fear of what I'll discover, but I somehow convinced (and deceived) myself into thinking that real rest follows this neglect -- neglect of all the hard things, neglect of Christ, wooing me back to Himself. A counselor friend once told me that a healing journey is a lot like re-breaking a leg -- "Some people are more content to hobble around in their pain on a bad leg than to go through the painful process of re-breaking, which is necessary for the leg to truly heal properly," she said. The process of restoration involves letting in the hurt and feeling the weight of that brokenness more profoundly than you would ever want to, but it's well worth it in the end. We cope as best as we can with our brokenness, and this -- perhaps the most -- is what continues to break my heart. 

But God does not leave us in our brokenness. Take heart, if you are reading this, and you are waiting for the patience of faith. Here is a passage from My Utmost for His Highest (May 8th) that the Spirit pressed on my heart this morning, to woo me and to wake another dear friend: 

"Patience is more than endurance. A saint's life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, and He stretches and strains, and every now and again the saint says -- 'I cannot stand any more.' God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly. Trust yourself in God's hands..."

The devotion continues to map out the true reason we cannot resist the Holy Spirit, and a clearer picture of life eternal, for "God has ventured all in Jesus Christ to save us, now He wants us to venture our all in abandoned confidence in Him. There are spots where that faith has not worked in us as yet, places untouched by the life of God. There were none of those spots in Jesus Christ's life, and there are to be none in ours. 'This is life eternal, that they might know Thee.' The real meaning of eternal life is a life that can face anything it has to face without wavering. If we take this view, life becomes one great romance, a glorious opportunity for seeing marvelous things all the time."

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes: Growing a Freelance Biz Baby

Well, the secret is out: I'm officially celebrating the beginnings of Mohr Editing, an editorial freelance business that I am over the moon about. It feels a little strange writing about it, and even stranger talking about it. Nevertheless, "courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen," as Brené Brown puts it in Daring Greatly. I'm learning that none of this is easy, but the rewards of launching a business I am passionate about far outweigh the challenges. 

I never dreamed something like this could happen in my wildest imaginations; and to be quite honest with you, I still have my doubts. There's something terrifying about having to believe in yourself to push forward. Sometimes it's overwhelming to think about where I want to be in one year, five years, ten years... but I know any successful freelancer takes baby steps, especially in the beginning. So far, everything feels right. I am so blessed to have a husband who schemes and dreams with me.... having Aaron by my side has been absolutely essential to chase any of my dreams. 

I'm thankful to be able to grow at a pace we're both comfortable with and to have access to the wisdom and resources I've been given. This is—without a shadow of a doubt—a season of learning (in more ways than one). I'm enjoying my editing classes and getting acquainted with professional editors through a number of awesome associations. Honestly, I've been blown away by how God is leading me toward this direction. There are days when I don't feel "enough" and other days when I feel like I could conquer anything. Throughout the doubts, there are tiny moments in which He gently nudges me to keep moving forward. I've received a lot of encouragement from professional freelance editors over the past few months. That means the world to me.

In the midst of excitement, fear of failure, and a whole mix of other emotions, I know the Lord is my strength and my song. I am clinging to Scripture and powerful words of affirmation that happen to find me at the right time. Here's another piece of truth from Brené Brown's Daring Greatly. I hope it encourages you to unlock your vulnerability, creativity, and potential. 

“Wholeheartedness. There are many tenets of Wholeheartedness, but at its very core is vulnerability and worthiness; facing uncertainty, exposure, and emotional risks, and knowing that I am enough.” 

Thanks for joining in with me on this adventure! If you want more editor talk, follow me on Twitter: @mohrediting or follow my professional blog. It's all so exciting. Happy Wednesday!

Thanksgiving: Counting My Blessings

"Eucharist [Thanksgiving] is the state of the perfect man. Eucharist is the life of paradise. Eucharist is the only full and real response of man to God's creation, redemption, and gift of heaven." -- Alexander Schmemann

Happy Thanksgiving Day Eve, friends! I hope your day is full of laughter and family and that you eat so much turkey tomorrow that you have to wear sweat pants for the rest of the weekend. Mmm. My aunt once said it's not a good Thanksgiving unless you're groaning around on the floor in agony (and .. thanks?), which we intend to do. I'm pretty nervous because we're somehow going to be making a turkey, ham, three different casseroles and two pies in our small, dinky (endearingly so) little kitchen with one oven. :) But I am thrilled to celebrate my 25th birthday on Friday with my twin by my side. We haven't been able to celebrate together on our birthdays in quite some time, and I am certainly thankful to be with my family for the big 2-5. 

We're preparing for this holiday - I have to confess - a little more frantically than I would have liked. I guess that's what happens when a day is set apart to be recognized as a holiday of thanks and giving; the stress of preparation gets in the way of what it's really all about. I feel like November has been a whirlwind and December only looks more chaotic. In the midst of sweet potato casserole recipes and beautiful Thanksgiving table decorations exploding on the Internet, I can't say I have seen too many reflections on all there is to be thankful for. It's easy to get caught up in the rush of it all, especially since Thanksgiving is late this year. Christmas music and decorations seem to be creeping in all around - and I get it. It's easy to skip to Christmas - at least for me it is. Aaron and I are blessed beyond measure to enjoy so much travel (and family!) time, but I am looking forward to some normalcy. Nevertheless, we're going to eat our hearts out and be thankful, thankful, thankful. 

What do you have to be thankful for? Lately, I am humbled on all sides because of the blessings he has lavished upon me. I'm thankful for my husband, who loves the worst and best of me, my whole family and how the Lord has given us plenty of time to be together, my job and the flexibility to scale back on hours, the wild dreams I have to pursue some literary goals (and the support from my loved ones who egg me on in my wild dreams to pursue literary goals), being in a fairly new home that we love already with a church community that we've grown to love, good health and so so much more. 

More than all of it, I am thankful for the one who gives good gifts. All of the blessings in my life do not compare to the greatness of a God who loved me so much that he sent his son to conquer death to bring me in to his family, all for his own glory. That I am known and loved by a righteous God - and that I get to be an instrument in his story of redemption  - are true gifts to be thankful for, and my heart will sing thanks and praise for eternity. When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise then when we'd first begun. 

Yes, there is much to be thankful for. Just in the last few weeks I have been reminded of this. 

First, I am thankful for Rebekah, my sister-in-law, and her husband, Brad, and the perfectly-perfect Ezra James Shillinglaw. It was such a blessing to lay eyes on this little fella, and Aaron and I cannot wait to spoil this kid. Seriously, so much love for such a tiny, sweet thing. What a rich Thanksgiving it will be for his new mom + dad. We love them a lot.

I'm thankful to have watched the leaves change in my hometown. 

I'm thankful that I got to explore childhood again in Pinehurst with my parents and sister. I'm also thankful for nostalgic parents who think it's fun to visit all the houses you once lived in. Taking pictures of our old stomping grounds? Not creepy at all!

Like this one. We actually drove up these 10-acres of wood just to reminisce. I wrote a Thanksgiving memory post a few years back about this sweet home. You should check it out if you want to know what 11-year-old me was thankful for on Thanksgiving Day. 

Happy Thanksgiving. May you rest, eat and be merry! 

Dreams of Pinehurst

Today, I look outside of my sister's house and see leaves covering the ground, crisp North Carolina air and a fresh cup of coffee in my hands. I am flooded with blessings, and my heart is full because I know just how rich it is to be given plenty of time to rest and count quiet days. Two sleepy dogs rest beside me, and I know in this moment that He is faithful even when I am not. 

It's a strange feeling to be given so much free time, to be honest. It feels a little awkward, but in the best way. I'm not embarrassed to tell you I spent about five minutes this morning listening to early Jazz and dancing in my pajamas facing Hannah's sliding glass door. I couldn't stop those dogs' tails from wagging even if I wanted to; I think they liked that I looked like I was going a little bit crazy. 

A few days ago I decided that I needed to scale back my full-time job to a part-time gig for a few reasons. It was difficult and I didn't want to admit that I needed this, but I definitely did and I'm so glad this transition is happening. I'm already beginning to sense fear of the unknown surfacing a little bit, but I think it's good for me. The timing is perfect too; I am currently in Pinehurst with my sister this week and will be in Charlotte next week to see our sweet nephew, Ezra James, for the first time. We are beyond blessed and cannot wait to snuggle baby E with lots of love! I was a little nervous about all of our traveling in November and December, but - thankfully - I think it's going to be more low-key than I anticipated. 

It's strange being in Pinehurst. When I walk past a street sign I get flashbacks of swimming pools that aren't there anymore, trick-or-treating in dark streets, selling the newspaper on the corner of my dad's office and eating messy ice cream cones (unsuccessfully, because of my rubber band braces). It's astounding to think about the years I spent here and how the smallest moments can come flooding back to your mind. There are new traffic circles, buildings and restaurants, and in a way, I feel like a time traveler. All of this nostalgia makes me feel warm and a little sad at the same time. 

More than anything though, I am reminded that I had a pretty damn good childhood. I think the reason it's so surreal to be back here is because my parents moved when I was in college, and I really haven't been back much since. Pinehurst will forever be like this strange, far away dream for me... but I think of it fondly. :) Anyway, I hope your week is full of rest, a little bit of pajama-dancing and recognizing the rich blessings in your life. 

Grace Buckets

So I've been in this weird place where I'm motivated but stuck at the same time, and it really is a confusing mess. I'm really good at not dealing with it, actually, and it's starting to wear on me... I see it on my hound dog's face when she needs a walk and I see it in the piles of laundry and dishes. I feel it when it's late and I hear clinking glasses in the dishwasher because A has cleaned again while I continue to be stuck in this strange place, letting go of a long, drawn out breath that has been rattling my bones. And then I am wracked with guilt because I can't seem to get it together -- I can't confirm on my commitments with people; I flake out or I tell A that tomorrow will be different and that the floor will not go another day without being swept, but it always does. It's a small, seemingly insignificant moment of clarity. 

And then I do not feel enough, and it's hard because even when I do not deal with *this* I am suddenly alone with it and I have to just sit there and let it wash over me. 'Not enough' is not a stranger, and you certainly do not want to invite this feeling for a visit, but it likes to settle in on top of the guilt and the fear and the begrudged mind set. 

And then it always seems to evade with vengeance and I notice that my to-do lists and empty promises to myself and my marriage that I am going to get outside and put the screen-time away are actually things I say to make me feel better for my apathy and my 'stuck feeling.' I realize that my chores list will not get done like I said it would, that I have gone days without sitting in silence and prayer and that the adventure I crave gets buried under it all. 

TL;DR: Defeated is my default. And I hate that. 

I know that being defeated sprouts from many things, but for me, right now, in this moment: defeat comes from a lack of focus; a lack of acknowledging where my strength comes from, a neglect of centering my heart on this truth, a failure to admit that my shortcomings point to a greater, good Jesus who is faithful in my unfaithfulness. I do not recognize these buckets of grace filling to the brim but instead, I kick them over in my hurried state and I look the other way. Instead of understanding the choices I have each day, I live and think as if there is only one choice: Not enough. 

Do you ever feel this way? How do you keep from kicking all those dang grace-buckets over?

I know this unwanted friend tends to show up unannounced to drain my energy and my joy, but I want to learn how to board up the walls of my mind and heart to keep 'Not enough' from dwelling with me. Now I am still considering how to change my defeated default, but in the meantime, Christina Rosalie's blog post on making decisions makes me close my eyes and nod, because I am not alone.

When Friends Come to Town

Why, hello! It's been a while. October has been a crazy month... Aaron traveled some and I feel like I've been in a constant state of 'catching up.' Even though we both feel a little all-over-the-map, it's been a good month with quality time spent with friends and family. It's the little things that I've enjoyed the most, like finally finding my favorite coffee spot, learning more about people in Winter Park and their stories and running by the lake at sunrise. There are a few 'to-dos' in the back of my mind that I know will keep me busy, like finally organizing my closet or learning how to drive somewhere other than Whole Foods, Publix, church and the dog park. For the most part, though, we're pretty settled -- and it's nice... really nice.

Our sweet friends came to visit last week and it was such a treat to spend time with them. When you're falling in love with a new home, you start to take pride in showing people around your new place. We're so thankful to have friends who love us and are willing to let us drag them all around town. The weekend was full of delicious food, coffee, lake and pool-side fun and one sweaty stroll around the arts festival near our house.

Oh, did I mention it was full of sweet pups, too? 

We're saying goodbye to October by celebrating our dear friends Tracy and Win. They are tying the knot this coming weekend, and we are beyond excited to go back home to Raleigh to celebrate these beautiful people. We may not want to leave when we get a taste of that sweet, crisp, North Carolina weather. 

Mindfulness on My Morning Run

Today I realized something that has been buzzing around in the back of my mind for a few days now, only to become one of those 'aha!' moments that wakes you up and reminds you of the skin you live in.

I should run life. Life shouldn't run me. 

Let me preface this [seemingly] simple epiphany by pointing out that Aaron and I have been extremely blessed. We are always blessed by God's goodness and His grace, but there are times in life when those blessings seem to pour sweetly - sweeter than you could ever imagine. We've been in Winter Park for a little over a month (!!!!) and I am increasingly surprised by our smooth transition. Sure, it's taken a while to get physically settled, and we traveled here and there in the beginning, but we're putting roots down. 

I could not have asked more for what God has done in getting us connected quickly. Even in the midst of my doubt and unfaithfulness, He is faithful. I didn't think we would find our church home so quickly, but we have. The first Sunday we walked into the church, I was overwhelmed with joy that this is where God has us. It felt strange to know so quickly - to have something so certain after a long period of uncertainty. 

Since that Sunday, we took the membership class and dove head first into some wonderful relationships that we hope to cultivate over the years. We learned how our unique gifts could best serve the church, and we are preparing for that sweet time when we can truly give of our time and resources according to our spiritual gifts. We started attending a small group that renews the heart and mind, and I know we have both been so hungry for this community. 

I like to joke about it, but the small group we have been attending is full of counselors. One of the perks for "geeked out" reformed Christians living in Orlando is that it is home to Reformed Theological Seminary. Our church is blessed to have many gifted students enrolled in RTS and the counseling program, so of course they bring such wisdom and insight to the group. Our small group has five counselors (maybe six?) and it was a little intimidating at first, but Aaron and I both feel immensely blessed by this group and what they bring to the community. They are deeply compassionate and introspective, and the way they look at life and the Christian faith is truly enlightening; I find myself viewing life through a more reflective lens, and it is so refreshing. 

One of the counselors in the group mentioned what we were all thinking - that sometimes, life can feel like it is running you, not that you are running life. This resonates with me lately in so many ways. In this small group we all talked about our metaphorical "landscape" to describe our weeks with a little more color (like I said, they're counselors y'all). It took me a while to come up with a landscape to describe my week because I realized I had been completely non-observant; I have let days come and pass, simply going through the motions without paying attention to what the Lord has placed on my heart and in my life. I described a generic field that was unidentifiable in a lot of ways, mainly because I haven't taken the time to stop and look around. This wise group of counselors pointed out that a field was an interesting choice for a landscape, because being in a field means that you can see in any direction or go in any direction - if you decide to look up. Seriously, guys, it's like I'm getting free therapy over here. 

Anyway, this week, I am trying to be more mindful. Aaron has been really great about asking more intentional questions, and I really am starting to see a pattern of mindfulness that is abundant and sweet. 

This morning, I discovered that if I start my run just five minutes earlier than I normally do, I get to see this:

It's amazing to me that five minutes can change everything. This sunrise made me weepy, not just because it is beautiful, but because God gave me a desire for mindfulness to leave the house five minutes earlier just so I could enjoy it. 

{Also, this song randomly came on Pandora. Mornin' Jesus - you're too good.}

Dear Orlando: Our First Month Update

Dear Orlando, 

uum.. you rock. 

Holy guacamole... have we really been here a whole month? WHERE has the time gone? No, but really, I feel like I've been half asleep, dreaming about cardboard boxes and bubble wrap filling my new tiny home. 

I'm not sure where to start, so I guess I'll fill you in on the beginning. We left our Houston home on a Friday evening, not without grabbing a bag of our favorite coffee house beans for a keepsake (which was not actually the most brilliant idea, considering we didn't get our coffee grinder + maker for another week). We drove - with two cats and a dog - to our new home in Winter Park, FL, stopping in Baton Rouge on the first night. The next full day and night of driving was pretty uneventful, and we finally made it to our lovely little town at midnight on Saturday night. To our unfortunate demise, our landlord forgot to leave a key, so we frantically searched for a hotel for the night that would take two cats and a dog on such late notice. I'm sure it was quite a funny sight to see - a sleepy, zombie girl with matted hair standing with two cat carriers half her size and a wide-eyed,  eager puppy with pent up energy while her husband sought out a suitable room. 

Oh yes, I'm sure it was a sight to see. 

The next morning we got the key situation worked out and we scoped out our new place. It was (and is!) a lovely (CLEAN!) home, which is more than we can say about our last place. Needless to say, we were happy - with or without our things, which would not arrive until the following week. Ha, that's right; you heard me! We waited a week before getting all of our belongings, included our beds, towels, etc. We bought the essentials on an Ikea run and pretty much told ourselves we would be camping. 

Zoey is ready to welcome new friends!

Our kitties settled in nicely. :)

Since I work from home, I did not take off for this major move. I worked at a folding table for the week and tried my best to muster up the energy to sort through boxes, once we got them, after work. In between work and settling in, we did get to enjoy a few moments of grace. Walking around the neighborhood, delighting in a few guilt-free nights out at delicious restaurants (Especially for our two year anniversary dinner, which we both almost forgot about because things have been so crazy) were all just a few perks to give us hope that this trip is all worth it. Even though we didn't have a lot of time to explore, we both had a great feeling that this was going to be home; that it's okay to endure a few sleepless nights - because this was home! We somehow remained positive, even though I was exhausted from working. 

Before we could catch our breath (fully) we were on our way to North Carolina for a week. My parents live in Oak Island, where I stayed and worked while Aaron enjoyed vacation. Luckily, working out of my parents' home is pretty great. Ocean fun on lunch breaks and I was even able to steal my dad's downstairs office for the week, locking myself up so I wouldn't have to feel jealous of my husband, who was on vacation and drinking yummy beach beer throughout the day. We were so blessed to be able to see Aaron's family for a short time as well. The whole clan was there, including baby Ezra, who is still in mommy's tummy. I got to feel my nephew kick and it was amazing - definitely a highlight. 

Zoey and my sister's dog, Sierra. Cousins were sleepy after a week of fun!

On Thursday night, we made our way over to Raleigh to get ready for one of my best friend's weddings. We stayed at another best friend's house and filled our time with late night conversations, fun rehearsal dinners and a fantastic wedding celebration. We headed back home on Sunday morning, a leisurely eight hour drive that is normally not so bad (unless you get a sinus infection, which, surprise surprise! This gal got!). We came home to two dramatic kitties who were meowing up a storm when they saw us and a house that is starting to feel like home. My mom came this weekend so the three of us could visit a relative in the hospital about an hour away from where we live. She is insanely organized and helped us whip this house into shape (and take care of a sick daughter and son-in-law, hello chicken noodle soup!). 

Bedford girls; four college roommates who love each other. 

We're excited to get a chance to explore; to meet people and find our church home. We feel about a million steps behind, but we're so blessed to be able to have the August that we have had and to embark on so many rich adventures. 

Since we've been here, we've roamed the neighborhood, gotten a membership at the community center fitness room (which is awesome!), enjoyed the farmer's market we can walk to and all of the other amazing shops on Park Ave. Pray with us, won't you, that we will continue to slowly chip away at this new transition of life? We are ready to jump into community and fully put down these roots. 

Farmer's market just a few blocks from home :)

Winter Park Farmer's Market

Our community center :)

Farmer's Market fun... 

Oh, also, come visit us..we will entice you with Disney and fresh squeezed orange juice. We've got plenty of room in this 900 sq ft house :)

<3 M

Dear Houston: One Last Time

via // Southern Living

For the Old Shack on 7 1/2 Street [And All My Other Riches]

Sometimes goodbyes slip through the cracks.

And sometimes they are long, like a deep breath in

the middle of the night and a red light in Texas.

But more than that, they are richer moments;

They are Mexican coffee beans in the morning and

chairs around a folding table,

Tightly held hands while we pray - just to be sure of the other.

I need the goodbye, but perhaps you do too

and I never realized it until now -

when I miss the house on the corner with the dolls in the window

and ceiling-long bookshelves;

The bald man skating along Allen Park Way who never stopped dancing

and little girls under blanket forts made for telling stories.

I take a deep breath and it's gone in two minutes:

Floods of rain storms and fogged windows

Sewing machines, cement roads, apricot orange teapots

Dusty boots, scruffy dogs like

Egypt the puppy and

Nervous conversations. Hands I never shook.

Mud and Water: Repentance

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I once read that in grammatical terms, the words repent and believe both function as a synecdoche -- the figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole. Thus, repentance implies faith and faith implies repentance. One cannot exist without the other.

The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.
-- Mark 1:14-15

Understanding repentance is hard for me. Especially when I realize a stronghold in my life and I don't know what to do with it. It's like this elephant in the room and I know I need to turn from it but I don't always know how. These past few weeks have been wonderful -- but also strange for so many reasons, mainly because I cannot seem to write about my life. I can write about tips for apartment hunting, the benefits of yoga, supporting animal rescue groups or other topics for work, but I can't seem to write about the heart.

A couple of weeks ago it became clear there was a stronghold that I needed to address by God's grace. It started out as a vague form of bitterness that I couldn't place, and before long, it turned into something that was stealing my joy, a sin I so desperately needed to repent of. When I put a name on it, every time I let it surface and poison my heart and the people around me, it was like God was pricking my heart, drawing me back, reminding me that this wasn't leading to life. 

We read Romans 3 in my community group, and my own tears shocked me when the words came to life.

"Their throat is an open grave; they use their tongues to deceive. The venom of asps is under their lips. Their mouth is full of curses and bitterness..."

And there I was, crying the awkward, ugly cry in front of these people - completely vulnerable. I knew my heart was poisoned because my words were lifeless. Everything I had been saying lately to my husband or to my family was a product of envy, entitlement, anger and fear. I was full of a critical spirit, I judged everyone and cut them down in a conversation that was dressed up like one of those "bless her heart" kind of talks. I didn't trust the Lord and his provision for our future, so I nagged to my husband. I wanted what others have, so I told myself I deserved it. But I knew I was fooling myself and my heart began to harbor bitterness. And with this lie grew a seed of doubt, because where repentance is ignored, so is belief. 

But the thing about Jesus is that he doesn't leave us in our brokenness. 

He conquered the grave, bringing light to much more than an empty tomb. Instead of using my lips to curse, I can use them to bless and to bring Him Glory. My community made sure I knew this, surrounding me with love and (seriously) cherished words of biblical wisdom. I learned that experiencing repentance brings discomfort because we're children of God... that suffering is a part of sanctification, that repentance is a daily process and it all starts with recognizing the sin for what it is without dressing it up as something noble or pretty. And that's what I'm trying to do with you right now. The honest, awkward reality. But they helped me see that there's something beautiful in a broken and contrite heart -- in bringing ugliness to the light. 

A friend gave me a book about using our words to bless, not to curse. I feel like I'm starting to understand, all over again, that it's not about beating yourself up. God views us through the lens of Christ, not as a failure. I'm digesting the words of scripture and beautiful commentary, learning that in many ways it's about training my thoughts -- declaring war on thoughts that turn into imaginations which then turn into strongholds. But more than anything I'm learning my need of a Savior, a reality I can rejoice in because He is victorious. I am praying for a renewed joy in my salvation, a thankfulness that produces real fruit. 

Are you beginning to recognize a stronghold in your life? Are you afraid to address it? Let me be the first one to encourage you: don't let it take root, don't let your jealousy or your lust or your obsession with perfection stand in the way of seeing an empty tomb. It's empty because He won the battle, and He endured affliction and suffering to bring you into the family. 

How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding; therefore I hate every false way. -- Psalm 119:103-104