Laundry and sin. One and the same.

Let me explain how laundry works at my house.  In my closet there is a huge laundry bin that my hubs and I use to put our dirty clothes in and it gets full rather quickly and kind of lopsidedly (omg “lopsidedly” is an actual word; I was waiting for spellcheck to underline it in red and call me a moron).  I put my dirty clothes in the bin as soon as they’re dirty slowly filling it, while other parties *ahem* put them there once they’ve gathered enough dust on the side of our bed to become a health hazard.  Also, the amount of clothes each person contributes to this bin is not quite equal.  Again, not mentioning any names…4 outfit changes a day.  

I digress, every couple days when I go to start a load of laundry I have a hand-held basket that I’ll use to transport the clothes from our laundry bin down to the washing machine in our basement.  Obviously the hand-held basket is smaller so I can’t fit the whole bin of clothes in, just the top couple armfuls of garments.  Those get taken downstairs and put directly into the washing machine or if I’m really on a rampage I’ll take several loads in the little basket down in a row to get it all into a big basket I keep next to the washer.  

The only problem with this system is that there are two groups of clothes: those that get washed regularly and then those that don’t…for a long time.  The freshest clothes that just got tossed in our closet bin usually get washed within a day or so, but the clothes that are in the second half of my closet bin have a tendency to end up on a missing persons report because of placement. Only when I do the bin purge and then about 5 loads in a row do I end up finding these delightful shirts, workout socks and pants three weeks after I last wore them. 

I know this is a random comparison, but it really stuck out to me this morning and it’s that sin is kind of similar.  

There’s these areas of questionable choices that are everywhere right now and how we treat them can be so nit-picky it makes me want to punch a wall.  They’re the “Why one beer is enough if you love Jesus”, “Christian girls shouldn’t wear short shorts”, and “Seven ways to know you’re a better mom than every other person in your life” arguments.  These are the clothes that are freshly dirty, that always end up as the topic of conversation, that are always on top of the closet bin and are seemingly washed over and over but just keep ending up in the same spot.  

Picking apart a person when you haven’t walked in their shoes and don’t know their life is easy.  You can, on your expert authority and opinion, state exactly why they shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing or saying what they’re saying.  And I’m guilty of this - these topics can be tricky for me.  Because while what Scripture says and doesn’t say is clear, how I interpret that and how the Holy Spirit presses on my life can be different from others.   

Now...do I think you should get hammered every weekend when you have a role as a worship leader at your church?  No. But if you like the taste of wine and have a glass during worship practice - I think that’s totally cool.  Does Scripture say that booty shorts are not to be worn?  I don’t think “booty” is anywhere in the Bible actually.  But at the same time is that showcasing all that God has made you to be?  Is it being respectful of those around you?  Probably not.  The human body is incredible, but seriously when you post Instagram selfies of your stomach wearing jean cut-offs pulled so low I can almost see your pubic hair and you write about relaxing in the park with your Bible I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN YOUR VAGINA.  And the mom thing.  Look, we all love our babies and they are a priority.  But you don’t know my life and I don’t know yours.  Let’s just leave it at that.  

Are these topics and countless others really addressing sin so much as gray area?  Meh.  All I know is that it’s all people seem to want to talk about and really I think there’s a much bigger picture that believers could focus all that passion on.    

Which is where that second group of dirty laundry lies.  These are the clothes aka sins that somehow remain under the radar, never rising to the top because they’re not trendy, just sinking down to the bottom becoming dirtier and stinkier.  It’s the internal stuff that is masked over and not regularly addressed.  It’s the insecurities, the hard headedness, the pride, the fear, the hatred, the anger - it’s all the stuff that somehow manages to sit in that freaking laundry pile for way longer than necessary because it’s able to.  It sets up shop under the popular fresh sins when it’s up in my closet basket and then gets uncovered temporarily when I do a load or really upended when I purge our whole closet bin into my little basket.  But even when the latter happens, sheer gravity puts those dirty clothes again down on the bottom of the basket in the basement and then they just sit there.  Fo-re-ver.  And it’s the stuff that matters.  The heart stuff.  The sins that are hard to deal with because it’s more than behavior and more than a thought or intent.  It’s looking hard at the truth, being honest with who I am, being humbled by the ugliness of my flesh and feeling embarrassed but also relieved that I am saved and my God loves me.  He knows me.  All of me.  And loves me big.   

What’s the solution?  Pretty simple. I need more Jesus. Cause laundry piles up.  There are distractions to this life and projects and so many things happening good and bad that can draw my attention away from this regular chore.  But I know if I just regularly did my laundry those gross dirty clothes wouldn’t fester.  If I were regularly washing myself in the Word then those dirty heart sins would still happen, but they wouldn’t be able to hide away.  The closer I am to Him the darker anything other than what He has for me shows up and is evident.  Now excuse me while I go start a load in the washer and listen to Jay-Z tell me to get that “Dirt off my shoulder”.  HOVA indeed.   

90 days

It's safe to say my food practices have changed over the last three months.  For starters, the amount of vegetables I've eaten in the last 90 days outnumbers the amount I've eaten in the last year.  This is not an exaggeration.  Also black coffee is now my jam.  I used to get an americano with a little honey and cream, but now - just black.  And it's smokey and bright and delicious.  Lastly - desserts.  My favoritest of all favorite things have been reduced to maybe 6 or 7 for the last three months whereas before that was easily my weekly allotment.

Here's the deal, losing weight is really simple.  I know there's countless magazines and diet plans and ideas about how to do it and what is best and what to cut out and what to eat and how often and how much and all the rest, but here's the basic truth:

Stop eating crap.

Work out hard.

Period.  Done.  That's it.

90 days ago I started on a nutritional reset with the help of the female owner of my gym.  Her name is Codi and she is one of my favorite people.  I love her.  She takes what she does seriously and her keeping me accountable forced me to think about it more intensely than I had before.

I had tried several different eating plans but this one seemed more structured.  Less gray area, cause when there's options I'll go DARK.  So I needed a plan with a strict outline of "yes" foods and "no, don't think about it or I'll cut you" foods.  I started March 1st and my starting weight and yes, I'm actually going to write this for the whole world to see, was a few ounces under 150 pounds.  That's roughly 143 pounds heavier than my birth weight, 52 pounds heavier than my weight when I graduated high school, 35 pounds heavier than my weight when I got married and 22 pounds heavier than my weight when I first got pregnant with Izzy.

The nutrition reset plan was relatively simple - cut out dairy, grains, fruit, sugar and processed foods.  All of it.  ALLLLLLL of it.  At first I thought it wasn't going to be that big of a change from how I ate because we don't eat a lot of pasta or rice and we axed dairy out of our diet back when Izzy was a baby.  Shouldn't be too tough.

Ha.  Hahaha.  Hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhahaha.

It has been without a doubt the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life as far as self-control is concerned. But oh, the results.

For one, walking past mirrors is awesome now.  I'm like "Oh, heeeeeeey, girl". Trying on clothes in a dressing room even if it's only fluorescent lighting - not the worst thing ever. Buying clothes two sizes smaller than before - whaaaaaaat?

And I don't want to sound braggy but it just is so simple. And people don't do it. They make eating healthy and working out the exception and not the rule. And that's not going to cut it. This is coming from someone who had that mindset for years and all I managed to add to myself was more pounds.

And there are my pictures.  Putting pics in this blog post proved to be a tad too difficult for my technologically challenged brain, so the three side by sides on my Instagram page are my front, side and back pictures from day 1 and this morning.

My weight this morning is just under 135, so I lost a full 15 pounds.  To some that might not seem like a lot, and to others that might sound like a ton - to me it was perfect.  But aside from the change in my body where I've really changed is in my relationship with food.  Don't get me wrong, I still really like it.  But it's not something that I've turned to for comfort in these last months.  It's not something that I've used in social situations as a buffer.  It's no longer a mindless act fueled by boredom.  Now it's fuel.  It gives my body the energy I need and believing AND acting on that knowledge is incredibly empowering.

Bottom line, if I can do this anyone can.  I have tried unsuccessfully for YEARS to lose weight.  The solution was really this simple though - make the choice and stick to it.  For longer then you're comfortable.  And for longer then is easy.  The payoff is ridiculous.

The grey.

Mornings like today are some of my favorites.  Sweeping my floors awaiting a visit from a friend I got a glimpse of a perfect snapshot: on my kitchen counter a white mug full of tea steeping away and producing a swirl of steam, my pigtailed daughter in the background sitting at the dining room table coloring, beyond that my quiet street lit by the sun, but shaded through the thick clouds that were heavy outside.  I like the grey.  This time of year is usually giving way from the cold and rainy to the blue and bright and most people seem to look for summer with baited breath, but I always feel like the heat could wait.  I know this next phrase probably makes me an outcast, but I'm cool with it - I don't really like summer.

It's too much of a good thing.  Sweating constantly under the hot sunshine, bees / bugs / mosquitos, slathering on toxic chemicals that probably cause just as much skin cancer as the vitamin D rays they're supposed to shelter us from, so much dirt on my children...everywhere...crowds of people and everyone's trying to do the same thing - stay cool.  I'm truly an inside in the a/c girl once the outside temp hits about 80.

Life's seasons can be like that too. A lot of times I find myself wanting summer from God.  Summer, summer, all the time!!  I want good and bright and happy and positive, and I want it now.  I don't want to be in the cold rain of confusion or pain for extended periods.  But as I was enjoying the beauty of this morning, I couldn't help but ponder the cloudy seasons of my life and the loveliness that lies within.

Take my marriage to the man I chose and who chose me.  Lordy Lord, we can get under each other's skin.  I have talked before about wanting a padded room so we can form tackle each other from time to time because we are complete opposites in so many ways.  What he calls "organization" I call chaos.  And what I believe to be "down time" he'd term laziness.  And those differences (and countless others) are tricky to work out.  How do you remain true to what you believe is right and try and push your partner towards seeing your view without the veins in your neck bursting or your eye twitching when you've stated and re-stated your point only to have it met with disbelief and even *gasp* eye rolls?!

Oh no, you didn't.

And then love that person in the midst of those disagreements.  I mean really love them.  Pick up after them, provide for them, give them good kisses, tell them they're important to you - it's tricky.  But those times when there's a storm cloud over the house, those produce the most beautiful work.  My grey sharpens his, like iron on iron.  And the sparks that fly off are magic.

And just like that the afternoon happens...and there's sun.  And it's my favorite kind of sun.  Because the clouds of the morning have been here it's tempered the heat, so it's now bright and beautiful, but it's also mild and breezy.  I could hang out in that all day.

Seasons happen, and I want to be thankful and hopeful and at peace in each one.  To find beauty in the unconventional and to find happiness when it's not obvious.  Because I know that God works in those dark and difficult places.  Usually it's where He shows up the most.  And how lovely is His dwelling place.

For 2015...

Isn't this week the best?  It's a week that's all about resetting your mind and body for the next year ahead.  There's clearing out Christmas clutter (love the holiday, but December 26th ALL decor is going down), breathing deep of the clear and cold air, and making resolutions in your heart and mind that will better your life and the lives of those close to you.  The only thing that would make it better would be if the 1st were a Monday. I love me a fresh start.

This last year my friend Amber encouraged me to pray about having a word of the year.  A word that I could pray about and ask the Lord to help me in specifically for 365 days.  For 2014 my word was "exceed" and man alive, did He ever.  Between my marriage getting literally a 180 degree turn-around, my heart on parenting being shifted completely, my physical body undergoing the best strength training and increase in mental focus and determination ever, and having a new calling arise and turn into an amazing opportunity for women to be together and love on each other in the Lord's Name - this year has truly blown my mind.  God has gone and done above and beyond all that I could ask or think.

So when it comes to a new year and a new word, I've been thinking of a few.  There's "pace": an idea that would shift me into taking charge of my time.  Right now I usually operate at either a frantic, break-neck speed that causes my children to be yelled at and my blood pressure to rise, or a completely chill scenario where I'm lazy and ignoring priorities.  "Be" has come to mind as well, the idea of being fully absorbed in whatever activity is happening at the moment.  If I'm working, then I'm working, if I'm playing with the kids, I'm playing with the kids, if I'm relaxing with a glass of wine, then I'm freaking relaxing with a glass of wine aka "I don't care if Charlie pooped her pants, she's going to have to wait a minuuuuuuute!!!".

But the word that I keep turning to, maybe because it's a lyric in one of my favorite Stevie Wonder songs, is lovely.

Lovely.  A word of many nuances.  It contains more character than beauty, more guts than grace, and more charm than kindness.  It embodies humility, warmth, and openness, and it places a picture in the hearer's mind of a person that people want to be near.

A lot of the words in that last paragraph don't really describe me *grimace*.  

I've always been better at truth, justice, and efficiency aka criticizing, passing judgement and trying to control everything.  Even if I'm doing something "loving" a lot of times in my head are non-loving thoughts.  To the driver that stopped obviously before me at the 4-way intersection that I'm politely waving across with a plastered smile on my face: "Come on, you freaking tard-hole, you were obviously there first".  To my husband as I come bungling out the door as we're late to church: "Look at you there in the front seat of the car, just drinking your coffee like you own the place.  Yah, don't worry, I got the kids dressed and fed and shoed and got myself ready and yah, just thanks."  To the family member that's 20 minutes late to a meal causing my main dish to get cold I'd say: "That's totally ok!  No worries", but really be thinking "Wench, you wouldn't be this gracious with me if I were 20 minutes late!!"  Gracious indeed.

How is a change so great going to happen?  Well, anything is possible with the Lord.  Anything.  And therein the victory lies.  It's being with Him more - "How lovely is Your dwelling place, O Lord almighty, my heart longs and even faints for You".  In His presence there is an unavoidable shift in your guts.  You can't help but take on His character, His loveliness.  That means doing more than just saying "I want to spend time with the Lord" - it's doing it.  My goal is 20 minutes a day.  Whether that's listening to a podcast (Levi Lusko at Fresh Life church is my favorite right now) or time reading the Word or putting on my noise-canceling headphones and listening to worship while looking out my front window as the sun comes up - it's time taken to be apart from my world and be soaked in His.

So, as I look to 2015 I pray that the Lord will manifest Himself in my life in a big way.  He's going to have to.  That way if I can showcase elegance and grace and genuine love towards my kids, friends, family, strangers - I will know it is not me, but He Who is in me.  Does this mean I won't use potty humor anymore?  No.  Does it mean that the f word won't occasionally slip out of my mouth?  Doubtful.  Does it mean that I'll look polished and put together at all times?  That's hilarious.

What I hope is that my natural instincts in any given situation will be to love.  Love truthfully.  Love graciously.  Love automatically.  Cheers to 2015, may this  year be your most lovely.

Neitzsche and I agree only on this point...

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

I've never been an athlete. Yah, I did cheerleading in high school and while it did require flexibility and some athletic skills, sports and showcasing how strong and capable my body is has never been my thing. My parents didn't push sports on me, and I'm okay with that. I had other things going on with life as a kid - music, church, family, friends, schoolwork etc. Because I avoided most sporting events, I didn't have to come to grips with my lack of expertise in this area...most of the time.

I'd make it through P.E. classes cause there was always at least one stoner girl that was somehow weaker or slower than me.  And I can walk around the gym and figure out what machines to use, but where I'm tested is in group environments where some kind of physical activity ALWAYS seems to rise up as the thing for everyone to do together: "Hey, we're all camping at the beach, let's go down and play ultimate frisbee", "It's summer camp and that means we're playing Gastapo / Capture the Flag / Wells Fargo (shudder)", "Now that the bbq is over, you guys wanna play a pick-up game of soccer?". My answer to all these proposals would be "No, I'm tired", "I think I'll referee" and / or "Please, God, please, have them pick someone else".

 There's a very distinct memory of a time that I headed to Fichtner Park in Medford after a church service at Applegate with some of my friends, let me rephrase, some of the cool kids who for some reason asked me to join them. Sitting on a blanket at the beautiful park having awesome conversation was obviously not enough for this crew, as a few minutes after we arrived, they decided to all play volleyball. All including me. "Don't panic, just be cool, there's enough people that you'll be covered" I told myself as I tried to make it seem like I was as confident standing in the ankle deep sand as I would be anywhere else. Of course one of the first 90 mph over-hand serves courtesy of a dude was directed to me and as I saw that white orb plummeting from the dark sky towards my person I got my hands in the correct position (left hand circles right thumb, hands come together to form a double-flat fist, arms out), and raced forward to have my depth perception be off just enough that rather than bounce perfectly off my extended arms, the volleyball hit me directly in the face. As in it bounced off my nose and mouth and onto the ground. There was no hiding it, there was no going around it, I had lost my team that point and with it every ounce of my dignity.

Fast forward 12 years and here's the picture of me earlier this week.  Knees bent, not extending past my ankles, shoulders down, butt back, arms long, hands circled around a barbell with a 15 lb. and 5 lb. plate on each end, deep breath...and pull!!  Bar comes up above my knees, hips kick out, bar floats for a second before my elbows shoot under and the bar gets caught on my shoulders and under my chin and I straighten from a slightly squatted position.

If you had shown my 21 year old self a video of that, I probably would have passed out.

But something incredible has happened over these summer months.  I've been introduced to a workout, a lifestyle, that has challenged me in ways I never thought it would and has made me into a person that I never, NEVER thought I would be (Eve's "Who's that girl?" is totally playing in my head right now).

I know that Crossfit-type workouts have their haters and rightly so.  Looking from the outside in, it seems like a cult of meat-heads.  But oh, ooooooooh, is it special.  It's teamwork and accountability and stretching yourself physically (obviously) and mentally (for a constant multi-tasking mom, this is a struggle).  It seems next to impossible at times and that's why it is so freaking amazing.  When Ryan started going at the beginning of June and encouraged me to check it out I was nervous.  But luckily I talked some of my girls into going with me, and we went on a Tuesday morning.  Now...did I feel like I was going to die at some point in that hour?  Yes.  Did I feel like I couldn't possibly continue doing what they were asking me to do?  Yes.  Did I think I was going to cry?  Maybe.

And now, three months later, do I still feel like those questions roll through my head every time I go?  Yes.

But there is something happening to my mind and body that is more powerful than just working out.  It is truly changing my perception of physical and mental obstacles in life.  Slowly drifting away is the deep fear and anxiety that accompanies trying something new and that is huge for me.  Before when any physical event would have come up, I would have made an excuse or distracted from my lack of ability with humor, but now I want to step up and try.  Will I be great?  Meh.  But that doesn't matter.

And while I enjoy seeing what this is doing for me, I love how it's starting to shape how I help my kids.  Israel is really similar to me pre-summer.  He likes to know what's going on and if he doesn't understand a situation or doesn't feel like he can do well - he will not participate.  It's one thing to parent your kids in an area that you don't struggle in, but it's a completely different beast watching them flail in a language you understand all too well.  But with these last couple months I've come to terms with the fact that most insecurities are fear playing dress up.  Dang that fear.  One of my favorites, 2 Timothy 1:7, "He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, power and a sound mind".  I realize that working out doesn't replace God's incredible Holy Spirit doing a work in my life.  A deep work.  One that's been cementing itself into my person for 33 years.  But He has used these classes as a way to break through.  And for that I am grateful.

So thank you to Codi, Scott and Mike.  You guys are incredible with what you do and I can't put into words how grateful I am for what you've helped me accomplish.  And this is just the beginning.  Thank you, Amber and Dana, for coming along with me and being the best partners when it comes to almost-vomiting and sweating.  Thank you, World, for pushing me to try something new and being so happy for me when I do well...and competing with me at the same time - really?  You're totally going to be faster and stronger than me every time.  And thank you, Jesus, for giving me abilities that I didn't know I had and showcasing my strength when the timing was perfect.  Your timing is always perfect.  Yes and amen.

The joy of being completely wrong

It's a rare occasion when this gal is wrong (two thumbs pointing at me). Seriously. I'm logical, I know an fair amount of pop trivia and random historical and scientific facts, I'm not assertive or aggressive in an argument situation, and I don't get overly emotional about decisions (unless it's "Bachelorette" finale night - really, Andi? Josh not Nick? Whyyyyyyy?). A few months ago though, I got the wind knocked out of me because I was wrong. Big time. Not the kind of wrong where you can pull off a quick recovery, like when you accidentally trip but don't drop all the way to the ground and hurriedly look around to see if anyone saw you. Not even the kind of wrong where you can pretend like you just mispronounced something or the person you're talking to misunderstood you: "You thought I said I hate this cilantro-weighted salsa? No, no, I said I CRAVE it, I CRAAAAVE this delicious, flowery, herbal concoction". No, this was the real kind of wrong. The kind of wrong where you weren't even a little bit right. The wrong that leaves you speechless, standing still as your brain spins, your heart speeds up, your voice is shaky and you wonder how in the world your seemingly smart mind could have been so completely off-base. It wasn't a dangerous or harmful situation in any way. It was a life decision. One that Ryan had mentioned to me, and though initially I questioned it, the more I thought about it and prayed, a peace surrounded my mind, even though it meant that we were going to go through some changes. The more we talked about it, the more excited we got, but a few weeks into our idea taking form, we were told "no". We were told a "no" that was so firm, there was no going around it. The scope of the idea came to a screeching halt and there was no kick-starting it back up again. Which brings me to my point - how do I handle it when I'm wrong? When Ryan proves himself to be right in an argument, I always see his point of view and concede victory to him. This is rare, but it happens. But this was different because this felt unjustifiably wrong. I couldn't understand the reasons and have a discussion about them. And so the question is - how do I handle it when I'm wrong? For the next 24 hours I teared up. I got mad. I paced outside. I didn't sleep peacefully. I placed blame on people that didn't deserve it. All in all - did NOT handle it very well. But the next couple days, I got good thought time in. Good talking to Jesus time. Good self-realization time. Good "Honestly, you're not all that and a bag of chips" time. The problem sometimes with being a smart, confident, God-loving mom and wife is that you start to make decisions based on experience, knowledge and your own understanding. Yah. Proverbs 3:5-6 has a little something to say about that. I hadn't technically hear God say "no", so I assumed that it was a go-for-it "yes". Sometimes He says "wait", and in my haste, I skipped right past that option. Now that we're a couple months past it, Ry and I don't even talk about it anymore. We know that God has a "best" for us and that wasn't it. There's a humility that came over me because of it and that is something that's kind of priceless. Not saying that I want it to happen a bunch more, but still... God is so good. He's so faithful to hear our prayers and answer them. I just got a good reminder to REALLY listen for His voice. Because being still and waiting on Him can never go wrong.

It's been awhile.

"Oh, hi! Welcome!" That's actually a phrase my husband likes to say to me whenever he thinks I've said something foolish or reflective of my purchased hair color. It always makes me laugh. In this case it's just honest to whoever is reading this cause seriously, it's been awhile. My last blog post was two YEARS ago. Let's see, some changes that have taken place... 1. New home address. We are homeowners and it's the best possible house we could have gotten. It's on a quiet street, it has a huge backyard and it's full of character. Me love. 2. The kids are bigger. And more crazy. Watching that one scene in "Horrible Bosses" where Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis' characters accidentally snort cocaine has made me realize that my two children are akin to really small drug addicts. They're highly emotional, very hyper, loud, have the attention span of a gnat, destroy everything they come into contact with and when they're left unsupervised chaos will reign. Iz is 4 and riding his cruiser bike, loving all things dinosaurs and jet planes and reeeeeeally likes doing what he wants to do before doing what is asked of him. He also apparently likes to get spanked and put on time out. Charlie is about a month away from turning 3 and she never looks where she's going, likes anything that has sugar as the first or second ingredient, really wants a kitty cat for her upcoming birthday (no), and gives the best hugs of anybody I know. 3. Marriage is still marriage. Moments of "I'm so grateful I married this man", moments of "If he never came home I wonder if life would be easier", moments of "I can't possibly survive another second without him", and moments of "I want a padded room so I can form tackle his ass". It's a deepening relationship and it's real and beautiful and challenging and it makes me rely on Jesus and THAT is something I truly love. A friend of mine said something yesterday that made me think - she referred to her husband as her "bonus" in this life. Something about that is new to me and new is always awesome. I know I put expectations on Ryan that he can't possibly fulfill, and if I can change that, rid myself of assumptions and just focus on him as this incredible extra, a gift that God has given me, then oh my gosh. What an incredible perspective change. 4. I work out (if you haven't heard that cover of LMFAO's "Sexy and I know it" by a kid named Noah Guthrie - youtube it NOW). It started a little over a year ago. I felt like running. I don't understand it, for real. I've never had the lean body of a runner (*ahem* boobies are big *cough*) and let me be perfectly honest, the "baby fat" I'm still trying to lose is reeeeeeeally stuck on now considering my baby is almost 3. I digress...there was something about getting up early, being in peace and quiet and gazing at this incredibly beautiful place we live in that was really inspiring. So I did it. From May to September me and a couple buddies would get up 2-3 times in the week, early before the kids woke up, and run a 1.5-3 miles. What's cool is that this year we started up again and now there are more friends running, and our distance has gotten a little farther. One particular Saturday, my friend Amber and I went 5 miles. I couldn't walk the next day, but whatever. Totally worth it. Also, a few weeks ago I started attending a class at Eternia Athletics that makes me feel like I have the strength of a newborn deer. The next day I'm wobbly, weak, kinda pissy cause I'm just all-over sore - but it's challenging and motivating and I love that. So we'll see if this is the formula that finally causes my pre-baby body to emerge. 5. Fight Night / Bi-weekly Bible study. God has pushed my heart to seek Him in a meaningful, more open way with my friends and it's been incredibly great. Fight Night #2 is coming up in about a week and a half and I'm anticipating that He will be lifted up, praised and that women will come closer to each other and to Him through that monthly gathering. My close friends and I have been meeting every other week at the butt-crack of dawn to talk through Scripture, what's happening in our lives and pray for each other. I thought I was close to these girls before we started doing this and it has been proven to me that the best way to strengthen a friendship is to center it on Jesus Christ. I love them and I love seeing His work in all of our lives. Other than that life is pretty similar day to day: coffee, Bible, breakfast, play, lunch, no more naps so we play some more, dinner, bath, bedtime for babes, relax time with my sweetheart. Church, friends, family and music all dot the weekly as well. It's a good life. And I'm happy to have this moment to write about it. About two minutes ago Ryan (who was working out on the spin bike down in the basement while the kids were there with him watching a cartoon) started up the stairs and hollered to the kids to follow him - "NOOO!! Wait!!! Leave them down there!!! I'm writing!!!" was my super sweet, motherly response. I've been reading a book called "Carry on, Warrior" by Glennon Melton Doyle and she encourages this act of writing. It is freeing. And I'm hoping to free myself more frequently from here on out.