Five-Minute Friday: Listen

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday.

Join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write.

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And this week is a little different. :) I have a tradition of writing to my daughter every year on her birthday. Some of my sweet friends who participate in FMF challenged me to take the prompt and do it all at once.

So, my sweet Mae…this five minutes is just for you. Happy 3rd birthday to my favorite girl in the world…I LOVE YOU!

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Today’s topic: Listen

To my sweet girl on her 3rd birthday,

Sometimes I think back to the days when I was praying so hard for a daughter.

Praying so hard for YOU.

I wondered with everything in me if my Father heard me, if He saw the deepest desire in my heart…

That desire to be mama to a sweet little girl.

I knew what I was praying…I prayed it All. The. Time.

And you know what, my girl?

He was listening, as He always is.

He always hears and He always answers in the way that’s best for us.

And three years ago I held you in my arms for the first time.

I remember that day…the way I cradled you and sang to you the first of many, many songs. We began to bond…to be mommy and daughter.

I couldn’t be prouder of the little girl you are…your kind, compassionate heart shines Jesus so beautifully. The way you love others screams of His Love and Grace in your life. Your beautiful smile? Well, it lights up the room every day and my heart every second.

I am so, so thankful for you, my sweet Mae. This past year has been one of the most amazing of my life…and I am so incredibly blessed to have you next to my side as we walk (but mostly dance and skip) this path together.

Please never, ever forget how much I love you…to the moon and back, plus infinity.

Love,
Mommy

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Five Minute Friday

Sig

Behind the Scenes: The Gift of Compassion

The longer I am a momma…and even though it hasn’t been that long since the day I became one…there’s something that continues to press on my heart…

Compassion is, perhaps, one of the greatest things we can teach our children.

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This picture is one of those…the I-snapped-this-really-quick-with-my-iPhone, kind…and I’ll keep it forever.

Probably frame it and put it where I can look at it every day.

It’s been a hard few weeks.

Just different things that have brought tears…tears that I wish didn’t fall in front of my daughter, but tears she sees anyway.

Yesterday afternoon they rushed in monsoon-like form and there was no hiding themand so I just let them go in black, smeary streaks all over the place. (I really need to find better eyeliner. Seriously.)

Mommy, what’s wrong?

Nothing, sweetie. Mommy’s just sad.

(She puts her hand on mine.)

There’s a hug in there, and she trots off to find her VBS project, a cute little creation covered with sticky shapes.

And that’s when she brings me a heart and sticks it to my hand.

I love you, Mommy.

Too choked up to even speak, I give her the I-love-you sign and rest it on her hand.

And when she gripped my pinky and held on tight, I was reminded…

That compassion is one of the greatest things I can pass on to her.

She’s learning it, and as much as I’d like to take credit for it all, it isn’t just me. In fact, for the most part, it’s NOT me. 😉

Yesterday I got a tangible glimpse into the hearts of those incredible people who have taken the time to love and invest in my precious girl in just the last few years.

She turns three years old on Friday.

Three years…Wowza.

And I wouldn’t change any of it. Not a bit.

Especially when I see what God is doing in her heart and life.

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So I’ve got a new reason to love Tuesdays. 😉

Don’t worry, friends, I’m still dreaming and pushing toward those dreams…but I’m taking a little break this summer with blogging them out and, instead, and joining another link up, one that my cool, new bloggy-friend, Crystal, came up with.

I love how she describes it…

Social media and online relationships can make us feel like everyone else has it all together. We’re edited, proof-read, Pinterest-perfect versions of ourselves (or so some might think!) when – in reality? There is an unfinished pile of laundry around the corner. That cute toddler smiling for the camera just had a massive meltdown seconds ago. That yummy breakfast-for-dinner you just showed us on Instagram? It’s because the cat licked the chicken that was supposed to be for dinner.

“Behind the Scenes” is a fun link up where we show those photos – but tell the real story behind them. The sneak peek behind the scenes, a look past the edges of the photo to the real life behind it.

I hope you’ll take some time and hop over to her place…last week was a fun party of the hip and the hilarious, with a few tear-jerkers in there, too…some of my dearest bloggy-friends hang out there, and I’d love for you to read their hearts.

crystalstine.me

Sig

Five-Minute Friday: Imagine

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday.

Join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write.

Today’s Topic: Imagine

Some days I wish I had the imagination she does.

Today, in a lucky moment, I snagged an almost-brand-new, Rapunzel, dress-up costume for her at a rummage sale for $1. (Told you it was a lucky moment.)

And when I brought it home and gave it to her, Oh. My. Goodness.

Her eyes lit up, she couldn’t WAIT to put it on, and

She. Became. Rapunzel.

She spun around, she danced, she talked to herself…she even sang songs with me from Tangled. Not that we spend our days singing “When Will My Life Begin?” or “At Last I See the Light”…

Did I just confess something here? 😉

And probably my favorite moment was when she took my hand, asked me to dance, and we spent a few minutes spinning circles, one of us getting extremely dizzy, and laughing together.

And then she informed me I that I was Flynn Rider. Ok, then…

But my point? And the heart of our moment? Was her imagination.

It etched yet another memory into this momma heart that will be there forever.

She saw the world through magical eyes today, all because of a simple find at a rummage sale.

She became Rapunzel.

And I got to go along for the ride.

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Five Minute Friday

Sig

My God-Sized Dream: I Dreamed Some Dreams…

We’ve been walking the path of God-sized dreams together for a few months now. Will you share an update with us about your dream? Let us know where you are with it–the happy and the hard. Tell us how we can pray for you and your dream too.

In 2005 we packed our bags for parts unknown.

Bandung, Indonesia.

Looking at a map, I was pretty sure it was about as far away as I could get from the Midwest, the place I had always called home.

Nevertheless, we did it. We crammed our lives into a suitcase and seven rubbermaid containers, shipped our dog on an airplane, said goodbye to all we knew, and we did it.

Moved to Indonesia.

And it became home.

At the time, we had no idea that we were living a dream.

We were aware that living and teaching overseas was something we’d wanted to do for awhile.

We were even more aware that God had called us to do it. So we answered with a yes.

And we fumbled and faltered and rejoiced and celebrated and cried and loved and lived and so many other things.

It changed us forever.

We lived out a dream, one we didn’t even know we had dreamed.

And months ago…maybe even years ago…another little dream crawled into a corner of my heart. I wanted to take the Indo-stories and experiences my Father had given to me and put them all into one place.

Write a book.

I even gave it a title. Lessons from Indonesia: On Life, Love, and Squatty Potties. 😉

And so when my friend, Holley, accepted me as a member of her God-Sized Dream Team last November, what I expected to pursue wholeheartedly during this time was writing this book.

After all, this was the dream I had in my heart.

And I wrote the book.

I did.

Hours upon hours at a corner table in the Starbucks on 31, more hot-turned-cold cups of coffee than I can count, and more smiles and tears, too…

…and it sits on my laptop and on my nightstand and in the hands of a friend…in the form of 120ish pages and 37,000 plus words. It is my heart and soul, the place where I bled love and life and happy and sad and so many memories…and it is a dream in every way.

That rough draft, read by one other person so far, represents the journey to a dream…one that I need to keep pushing forward to achieve…by writing book proposals that I don’t know how to write yet and handing it to people…even if it’s scary and makes me bite off all of my fingernails. 😉

I was fully aware that this dream I’d dreamed was a dream that I wanted to chase with abandon.

But over the last few months, there have been other things that jumped into my path.

For example…this space.

Yes, it’s been around for awhile. :)

And I guess I never really set out to make my blog a dream when I started it all in 2011. It was always my safe place, a place to laugh and cry and love and share it all. Of course, like any blogger, having an audience is nice, but it wasn’t my dream at the beginning.

And then?

These beautiful women from all corners started to stop by. Leave some comment love. Invite me to their spaces and into their hearts and lives.

A community was created and the dream to keep writing and sharing and loving people through my words was born. Or maybe another dream just grew.

And a few months ago, I let a dream…one that had been locked up tightly…out into the open. I let the whole world know that I want to write for (in)courage someday.

There it is again. :)

And I thought that maybe this whole letting-my-dreams-spill-out thing was over.

Two big dreams, and I’d shared them both.

But God has a funny way of working in hearts when we make the decision to go with His plan. And He brought something else into my life.

Mercy Ships.

Not as an I-need-to-do-this-now dream, but definitely as something that has made an impact on my heart and could be a possibility for us down the road. That’s a bit frightening and heart-pounding to think about. So, for now, we’re just lifting that one up and placing it into His hands.

Now, several months after the dreaming began, I find myself looking at three, and probably more, dreams that have somehow taken root and grown and changed me.

Some days it’s all I can do to simply catch my breath and make the choice to walk another day by His side in obedience.

Walk hand in hand. Not run ahead. Not drag my feet behind.

The truth is that, with these dreams, I’m not sure where I am.

Yes, I’m pursuing publishing a book.

And. Slowly.

This process is not for the faint of heart. I’m finding that out, and the reality of how difficult handing my words over to other people is…well, it’s breaking me and it’s harder than I ever thought it would be.

And my dream of being a contributor for another blog…well, that one is in the works. It’s not for (in)courage, a space that I still love and would, someday, still love to write for. But there’s another opportunity, one that I am truly excited to watch unfold. Hopefully I’ll be able to share more soon. :)

And moving to Africa to live and work on a ship? God has said a clear, Not now. I am ok with this…more than ok.

In all of this dreaming, He has been teaching me the beauty of now.

I’ve dreamed some dreams within the last several months, and though things don’t look at all like what I pictured they might, I am truly enjoying the journey.

And I’m so blessed by each of you who have been part of it.

Happy Tuesday! Today we’re spending some time reflecting on our God-Sized dreams at Holley’s place. We’d love for you to hop over and be part of what God is doing in some amazing hearts and lives.

God-Sized Dreams

Sig

What’s Coming…

I ran a 5k yesterday.

It wasn’t my first, and it won’t be my last because I’m a runner, and even if I gripe and complain sometimes about the actually running part that comes with being a runner, it really is my escape and a loved and necessary piece of my life.

I hadn’t particularly trained well for this race.

I’ve been running about twice a week and throwing in a Tabata workout here and there, but my last two 5k distances were minutes over what I was expecting to pull in a race. So I think it’s safe to say there was some discouragement (and grumbling ;)) when I rolled out of bed yesterday morning at 6 a.m.

A friend picked me up at 6:50ish, and we headed down to the race area. She had looked at the course map, but I had decided a few days prior that I had no interest in seeing where the race was going or what hills may or may not be included. (I hate hills. With a fiery passion, perhaps.)

All I knew was that there was a finish line, one that I would be very happy to see.

And that was enough.

I pinned on bib #914, stuck the little timer-thingy (proper term, please?) on my shoelace, trotted down to the starting line with my friend, and we were good (well, ish) to go. 😉

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Here’s me before the race…and before I found out about all the hills. That’s why I’m smiling. 😉

The first mile is typically the hardest for me, but when I heard the time shouted out at the marker, it was encouraging to know I was still going to break 30:00 if I could maintain my pace. It seemed though, as I was approaching the halfway point…and perhaps the ridiculously painful hill (One of about TWELVE…ok, ok, I’m exaggerating. I think there were four or five.) that this feeling of I-can’t-do-this-anymore began to overtake my mind, and I couldn’t shake it.

I made the decision at that moment, as I literally struggled to keep my feet moving, to do two things.

First, I started singing whatever song about being strong that I could think of. (I’d left my headphones in the car.) Steven Curtis Chapman’s His Strength is Perfect, won that little contest. As a side note, I haven’t heard that song in probably a decade…no clue where it came from.

Perhaps I needed the truth found in those words?

His strength is perfect when our strength is gone; He’ll carry us when we can’t carry on.

At that moment, truer words had never been spoken. 😉

And, second, I started looking around me.

Also at that moment, we were running the part that went near the river.

Confession? Even in my pain, it was pretty.

And the beauty that surrounded me pushed me through that mile and into the next, where the adrenaline finally kicked in and my strength returned. I wouldn’t say the last mile, plus the dinky little .1 added to it, was a walk (or run) in the park, but I crossed the finish line…

…the one I was beyond thrilled to see…

and there was such relief. Like, I’m-pretty-sure-there-were-tears-in-my-eyes, relief.

In the end, I was so thankful, I hadn’t known what was coming (aka: THE HILLS). Not only would I have most likely psyched myself out of trying and pushing myself completely if I had known how hard it would be, but I would have been too focused on just getting to my goal to find something beautiful along the journey.

How true is that in life?

How many times do I wish with everything in me that I knew exactly where the crazy of life was taking me?

…or that I could know how it will all turn out?

…or even simply for a promise that it will be beautiful?

I get so caught up in wanting to know what’s going to happen that I forget to focus on the gifts that come with each step along the way.

The lessons from that 5k run and the grueling 28 minutes and 58 seconds (yay for breaking 29!!!) yesterday are planted in my heart forever.

Yes, I will probably be a little more intentional about training for races in the future…

But maybe I’ll be a little more intentional about finding beauty along the way, too.

Sig

Five-Minute Friday: View

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday.

Join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write.

Today’s Topic: View

Oh, I miss the view.

I can still picture it in my head…the green everywhere.

The mountains that seemed so close I could touch them.

The way God fingerprinted every little detail of that beautiful place.

And I got to live there.

I remember one of the mornings I took the motorbike out for a drive, and I just couldn’t get enough of my surroundings. Maybe it meant more for this Iowa girl who was used to flat plains and no mountains, but I just soaked it all in.

And now I’m glad I did, for it is still in my mind.

Still in my heart.

I can still close my eyes and picture every detail.

It was an incredible view, amazing scenery, placed in a country where the vast majority of the people were very poor.

I like to think that it was a small way He chose to bless them. :)

I miss you, Indonesia.

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Five Minute Friday

Sig

My God-Sized Dream: Rejection

What part of your dream feels the riskiest? Have you ever had people misunderstand or disagree with your dream? What do you do when your dream is scary or when others don’t support you?

I was never that girl…the one boys lined up for, the one girls invited to their slumber parties, the first one picked for a team, the cool one.

And though those feelings were always present while I was growing up, the worst years were middle school and into high school.

Kids were mean, just because they could be…maybe it was fun for them?

I’ll never forget that day during my freshman year of high school.

It had actually started out a few weeks before as I was sitting at lunch with a few of the “friends” I usually ate with. We’d been talking about a few random things, and I confessed that there was a boy in my algebra class that I thought was really cute.

For some reason they thought this was information worthy of bringing up repeatedly, even if he was within earshot. Because, you know, it’s fun to be fourteen and Completely. Obnoxious.

Have I mentioned how much I don’t like mean people? And mean girls are even. worse.

They would talk about it often, seemingly day after day after day.

And what I didn’t know one day as I took my usual spot at the table? That they’d planned a little something.

How nice of them. 😛

One of them leaned over and whispered to me, Hey,                         wants to eat lunch with you.

I remember giving them a strange look and questioning them, but these “friends” insisted that he was expecting me to go over to his table.

Reluctantly I glanced over his way, and he saw me. My heart was pounding, but I took the risk and I picked up my things and stood up to walk over to him when all of his friends (and he was surrounded by at least eight or ten guys) grabbed their trays and left the table, leaving him alone with me walking toward him.

He looked at me, and we both realized what they had planned. And the look on his face said everything.

Sorry, I’m not interested.

Let’s just say I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I’m pretty sure I went straight to the bathroom stall, my favorite one on the end, for a good cry.

Rejection.

It hurts, stings, leaves a mark. It damages self-confidence.

I’m mature enough now to realize that those awkward, teenage years don’t define me as a person. I don’t think of them often, and I certainly don’t dwell on the day when I realized that those friends really weren’t friends at all.

But when it comes to dreaming?

Dreaming God-Sized dreams like writing books and being a blog contributor? (And maybe even working on a medical ship someday? ;))

I fear rejection. It kinda makes me shake in my pretend boots. (Hey, it IS flip-flop season. ;))

The day I handed over my rough draft to one of my dearest friends…the actual, physical, letting-go of the draft was painful. Here was my heart and soul on paper, and she was only the first in a long line of people who will eventually (hopefully) read it.

What if she hates it? (P.S. Thankfully, she didn’t. :))

What if I really am a terrible writer?

What if I get a bad review or a nasty critique?

What if there’s not a publisher out there who likes it?

Or, worse, what if no one buys my book?

I suppose these are things all writers stare down at some point…but this is somewhat new territory for me. And if I think about it all for too long, I start to feel overwhelmed.

And sometimes?

Completely terrified to keep moving forward…because, honestly, those next steps scare me.

And, for me, next is a book proposal. I kind of did things backwards, not realizing I could submit a proposal without actually finishing the book. But, hey…live and learn and do things in creative ways, huh? 😉

And I have to be honest and tell you that I listen to the enemy’s whispers far too often.

I let him tell me that my writing is no good and that no one will want to read it and that I’m a nobody in the bloggy world.

Thankfully, I know the Truth, but there are always those doubts.

Because with risk comes the possibility of failure. Of rejection. Of a confirmation of those feelings of inadequacy.

I have certainly failed in my life, and I’m not finished with failure, I’m sure.

From being a wife, mommy and friend to writing, dreaming, and doing, there are those days when I feel as if I’ve failed miserably.

Each day I have to remind myself that I’m His.

That this dreaming? It’s for Him.

And so I’ll pick up that rough draft again and pore through it. Pick out a few chapters. Send them with the proposal.

Allow my restless heart to beat fast and furious as I wait for a response, knowing that on the journey to a dream, there’s always risk.

But along with that risk is the opportunity for the Giver of my dreams to bless unexpectedly and wildly.

And that’s what makes this dreaming and doing worth it.

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Happy Tuesday, sweet friends! Thank you for stopping by and reading my words. If you’d like a glimpse into the heart of some amazing dreamer friends of mine, you can find us linking up at Holley’s place. We hope you’ll join us for some inspiration and encouragement!

God-Sized Dreams

Sig

Five-Minute Friday: Song

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday.

Join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write.

Today’s Topic: Song

From the day we brought her home, I’ve been singing to her.

When she was teeny, teeny-tiny, I would make up songs that rhymed about everything from changing a diaper to her sweet, stuffed puppy that I hoped would become her favorite. I even took one of our favorite books and put it to a song, one that she will often sing to me now.

Always Sometimes I probably sounded like a dork, but I wanted her to know that music is a huge part of our lives from the beginning.

And I wanted her to love it.

By the time she was six months old, she would coo with me as I’d work my way through the rotation of favorites. (Aka: the ones that allowed me to host my own little concerts. ;)) And by the time she was just over a year old, she’d started to sing little pieces of Jesus Loves Me…and, oh, how my heart turned to a pile of mush.

Around the time she turned two, we were walking hand-in-hand from Target to the car, and I started it.

I’ve got sunshine…

And she finished it…on a cloudy day.

And when it’s cold outside…

I’ve got a girl named Mae. (Yes, I rewrote it slightly. ;))

I guess you say, who can make me feel this way? Maelie…Maelie!

But perhaps my favorite so far happened on one of those mornings just a few months ago, the kind that started with messes and frustrations and oh-so-many mommy moments that were less than gorgeous. And as I wrestled her into her clothes for the day, she looked up at me.

Gave me her silly, heart-melting, smile.

And she broke into song.

I love you, a bushel and a peck.
A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.
A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap,
A barrel and a heap, and I’m talking in my sleep
About you.
About who?
About you!

Every single word.

It completely made my day, probably my year.

My Maelie girl…wherever you go in life, always remember music. It’s powerful, it’s beautiful, and you will go far if you always keep a song in your heart.

I know you will.

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Five Minute Friday

Sig

Mother’s Day Memories…and a Confession

Yesterday was Mother’s Day.

Facebook reminded me, Twitter reminded me, pretty much everyone reminded me.

There’s nothing wrong with being reminded of that…because I’m a mama, a blessed one…and I love the fact that I’ve been able to celebrate the last three Mother’s Days with an amazing little girl by my side. (And, well, three years ago, I was about to pop, so there was definitely a reminder that she was about to be in my arms, too!)

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And my husband and daughter treated me like royalty…I got flowers, a sweet card, more hugs and kisses than I can count, a cardigan I’d been drooling over but couldn’t bring myself to spend the money on, my favorite dinner and CAKE, shared with our favorite friends, and a NAP. Two-ish hours long and worth capitalizing every letter in bold. (The CAKE was worth capitalizing, too…long story, but I love CAKE {and my friend who made it!}. I think we’ve had this conversation a few times on the blog…) 😉

It was truly a special day, but I have to confess something…something I know that many can relate to.

There were so, so many Mother’s Days when I just hated the day. Hated the celebration, dreaded going to church with the inevitable, identify-yourself-if-you’re-a-mom thing. Stuffed down the wound that my mommy arms were empty and my heart even emptier.

I think it makes it hard for me to completely enjoy a day like this when I know there are so many women out there who ache when it rolls around…maybe for the same reason it was hard for me, or maybe not. They duck their heads and swallow the tears when the mamas at church stand up and receive applause.

I almost feel guilty for celebrating a day that I know brings so much heartache to so many…maybe it’s because I wish it could just be a day when we’re all celebrated.

I’ve been blessed beyond measure, and my story is happy. But to those of you who are hurting, I’m sorry.

You were on my heart yesterday…I just want you to know that.

Sig

Flower Moments

She picked each one and carefully placed it into the bunch.

Picking some flowers, Mommy. For you.

Any mommy-heart would smile. Mine melted all over the sidewalk that runs along the side of our blue, two-story.

At the moment, there was nothing in the world that brought her more joy than simply plucking dandelions from our sadly-infested yard.

Not going to the park, not a visit to see her favorite friend, not. even. fruit. snacks.

Pick them with me, Mommy!

She wanted to pick flowers, as she called them. And she wanted to pick them with me.

And so, hand in hand, we made our way around the yard. She’d pick one from the patch growing by the porch door, another by the driveway, and another under my favorite tree. And then she’d walk another lap around the yard, picking more to add to her beau-fi-tul bouquet.

Once, she took a small detour to the window well on the side of the house and looked up, posing for the rare picture. She’s two. Need I say more?! 😉

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It was a piece of that sunshine-y day, one that really only made up a small part of it. But it was my favorite part.

Because when we’d finished and were heading inside for an episode of Curious George, she looked up at me, smiled, and handed me her precious flowers. I love you, Mommy.

And though that bouquet of the most beautiful dandelions I’ve ever seen is long gone…

I hold that moment in my heart forever.

May I never be so busy that I forget to enjoy the precious flower moments of life with my favorite girl.

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Sig