On Community and Sisters

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I boarded the plane last Friday morning feeling depleted.

It had been a long few months.

Months that were full of so many blessings…trips, reunions, memories, friendship. So much to fill my heart with thanks.

And yet…months that were full of so much discouragement. A halt to my dreams, a funk that I couldn’t pinpoint, words that were gone.

All I knew was that tired reigned and I was running close…so very close…to empty.

Add to that the fact that anytime I fly, the butterflies do backflips. My stomach goes nuts. Really, it’s pretty miserable until the flight is over, and then things tend to calm down. Thankfully the plane landed early, my crazy-70’s-flower suitcase was one of the first bags out of the gate, and I had no problem finding and hopping the transit shuttle to meet my friend, Mandy.

Just a few minutes later we were exchanging a hug, taking a selfie, and grabbing a Starbucks while we waited for another friend to arrive.

The butterflies were gone, and it was the beginning of a beautiful weekend.

Mandy&MelAirportYes, that’s a moonwalking cow in the background. I guess he’s famous? 😉

Just an hour or so later, we were all at Gindi’s house, together…most of us reuniting with hugs and hello-agains, and a few hugging hello for the first time.

It was a moment when I stopped, took a deep breath, and determined to savor it all.

And through the weekend, there was plenty to savor, and I’m not just talking about the awesome food.

Y’all. Really.

Tex Mex, BBQ, sandwiches, chips with spinach dip (Oh. The. Spinach. Dip.), a dessert platter to die for. (It’s a wonder I came back lighter…I have no clue H.O.W.)

But food aside, the community. The sweet conversations. The powerful prayers. The amazing worship. The heart spills. The tears. The laughter. The stories. We came together to talk, plan, and pray about the future of God-sized Dreams, but we left with so much more than that.

It was all an amazing gift.

I still can’t quite wrap my head, or my heart, around the fact that God decided to bless me this much. THIS. MUCH…with a community of women. Writers. Dreamers. Friends. Sisters.

It’s true. They are sisters and my family. And we share life, even if it’s more often through messages and voxer than it is around a table.

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They love me even when I’m the ugly crier in the room, they laugh when I get a little crazy and do a cannon ball into a kinda-cold pool, they listen and love when I tell them that I’m not sure of much right now. They smile and do life with me anyway in the mall when the four inch heels just aren’t cutting it and I’m forced to live up to my bloggy namesake. They (somewhat?) willingly happy dance with me. 😉

I’ve spent several days trying to find words…adequate ones…that will explain just how much these women mean to me…and what this weekend meant, too…and there really aren’t words. Just our Father who brought us all together and gives us the reason we’re doing what we do.

I’m thankful. I’m blessed.

And He is Good.

And the weekend did so much for my heart. Even as I boarded the plane Sunday night in Houston when the weather was bad, and I knew that the flight was going to be rough…my heart was still so full.

God gives gifts in all kinds of different ways. This gift…the amazing gift of community…is one I breathe thanks for each day.

To my beautiful sisters…(in no particular order, I promise!)…Mandy, Christine, Holley, Lisa, Alecia, Gindi, Kristin, Elise, Delonna, Elizabeth, Chelle…you truly bless my life, and I am so grateful to be walking this dreaming journey with you.

And I already can’t wait until the next time we exchange hugs. And maybe do a little happy dance together, too. 😉

***Thank you to sweet Lisa, who let me borrow a few of her pictures for this post. :)

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Dear Dreamer…On One of Those Days

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Hello, sweet dreamer.

It’s your friend, Mel.

And I’m writing to you on one of those days. You know, those days. It’s the kind of day when I wish I could pour two mugs of coffee, add a little extra french vanilla creamer, and sit down for a heart-chat with you in a quiet corner at a cute little table.

Because…well, because we’ve all had those days, and sometimes I think we should talk about them more. Just so we can all be reminded that we’re not alone.

I’m imagining that, even as you read these words, you might be nodding your head. Saying, Yes. Or, maybe even, Days? How about weeks that stretch into months? (Trust me, I’m there with you.) 

Because there are those days, no matter who you are or what you’re dreaming, when the dreams feel shrouded in a fog so thick that there’s nothing to be seen.

Maybe the door to a dream has been closed.

Maybe He’s changed your heart and your desires.

Maybe fear has crept in and camped out in a too-big space, crippling your ability to move forward.

Maybe you’re just struggling for breath, hoping to make it to the next moment.

Or, maybe you’re all of them rolled into one…

Today I’m over at God-Sized Dreams, sharing a heart spill about some Truth on the hard days. Will you join me here? :)

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Five-Minute Friday: Paint

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday. So, grab a timer, set it for five minutes, and join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write. Then leave some comment love for the person who linked up before you…and anyone else because that’s the fun and the heart of the community!

Today’s prompt: Paint

Ok, so I really thought about making y’all laugh and writing about the ridiculous woodpecker who keeps pecking at our house and is leaving holes in the siding and taking the PAINT off.

I may or may not have totally chased him off with one of my boots today.

But, instead, I’m going to talk about what came to mind first and avoid the possibility of getting into trouble for chucking footwear at a bird. 😉

So, I’m really trying to be a more fun mama.

I mean, there are lots of moments of fun for me and my girl…goodness, we rode a motorbike together in Indonesia. And if there had been vines, I would have totally taken her vine swinging. 😉 And on a normal day, we have a great time. Dancing, playing, couch surfing.

Yes, yes we do.

IndoMotorBut there are also way too many times when I just avoid the mess.

Oh, there are definitely moments of the controlled kind of mess…the kind when we cook together and I just wipe up the messes as they happen. Or when we play with glitter glue and I just spread the newspaper far and wide so I don’t have to deal with the sticky and the sparkle all over Eve.Ry.Thing.

But this week…well, it was different, kind of.

We’ve been talking about painting together…that thing that is just GUARANTEED to change the color of the dining room table forever. But we were walking through Target, and she found it. A cute little princess set with a brush and Real. Live. Paint. (As in, not watercolors.)

Oh boy…and Mel takes a deep breath and spends the dollar so her sweet girl can have an afternoon of painting fun.

She had a blast. She seriously loved it.

And the best part? The paint wiped right off the table.

Win. And here’s to a lot more afternoons of painting and making messes.

Because I’ve got a pretty fantastic girl…and I want to make all the memories we can. :)

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Five Minute Friday

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She Called Me Family

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI still remember the day when we first talked.

She stood outside the gate of our new home as I pored through our English to Indonesian dictionary, determined to explain to her that while I was excited to have her work for us, the house was far too messy and disorganized for her to even enter it. She should come back on Monday.

I remember the look of confusion in her eyes, and finally, she understood. And thankfully, she came back on Monday despite the utter ridiculousness of my request.

It was a foreign concept, no pun intended, upon our move to Indonesia to even fathom having someone working in our home. It certainly wasn’t a luxury I ever thought I’d have, and yet, in that particular country it was expected. I was a foreigner, and that alone branded me as someone with enough money to provide jobs for others. Not only would we hire a house helper, we would also hire a guard/gardener.

Two jobs for two people.

And though the first weeks were a bit awkward, I quickly found myself warming up to the idea and grateful that among our many responsibilities, cleaning the house, laundry, cooking and taking care of the yard were not included.

Maybe we were a bit spoiled, but those who live or have lived it can testify that it’s necessary. For both sides.

Ibu S quickly became more than just someone who worked in our home. I would take the time I could to practice my limited Indonesian while she practiced her English. As much as we could, we would talk and learn things about each other. Two years in, T and I stayed in the country for the summer and took some language lessons.

As our communication ability grew, so did the friendship I had with Ibu S.

Mel&Ibu1And somehow two years turned into five, and that last year, I was a stay-at-home wife. A pregnant and puking one, but I was still home. And a surface friendship grew between two women into a deeper one…language, belief, and status bridged by the fact that in so many ways we were similar.

Really, we were both moms (well, I was a mama to be!) just looking for a friend.

And while I knew it was our last year in Indonesia, and she knew it too, we still took the moments to talk. To laugh. (Mostly over my language flubs.) 😉

We shared life.

And she became a dear friend.

And when it was time to go on that April morning in 2010, I didn’t hide the fact that saying goodbye to her broke my heart. And she didn’t hide it either.

And over the years…the ones when Mae was teeny tiny and growing up too quickly…I ached. Often, for this friend that I wanted so badly for my daughter to meet. I thought about what I’d tell her…because things went unsaid. I wished, for years, that I could have found the words to thank her for being one of the most important people to me during our time in Indonesia.

And God…well, He’s Good. So. Good. He provided a way for our family to return…all three of us…for a visit. While there were many people we wanted to see, Ibu and her family were toward the top of the list.

And this happened…and it was perfect. Oh, life is never perfect with a jet lagging three year-old, but seeing my friend again and watching her hug and love on our Mae is a memory I will hold close for the rest of my life. And when Maelie played princesses with her…oh, melt. :)

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It was when we were talking at her house just three Saturdays ago that she told me something.

You see, all along I’d wanted to tell her that she was a dear friend…and someone who was treasured and loved, despite the distance and difficulty of communication. I even made her a necklace.

Teman, it said. Friend.

And then she spoke for me…she said she loved us and missed us. And I watched the tears well up in her eyes as she said it, her hand over her heart.

Ibu Mel, you are my family.

And it was at that moment, I knew. I’d known it all along, but then…well, I knew.

I knew that Indonesia was part of us…a piece so deeply imbedded into our hearts that it will never go away. Nor do we want it to.

And so we said our goodbyes with hugs and teary eyes and a few more pictures, and while it hurt to leave my sister behind, I did it knowing that I wasn’t just leaving a friend.

I was leaving family.

And family is forever, so I know we’ll be back.

So many of you have been asking for Indonesia stories, and you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you. :) Honestly, it’s been an emotional time of processing so many good things, and it’s taken much longer than I thought it would to even find words. But thank you…for being here, for being patient with what’s going on in my heart, and for reading. There are many, many more stories to come. It may just take my entire life to tell them all, but I’m good with that. :)

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How Lucky I Am…

We’ve been back on U.S. soil for about a day, and already, jet lag is rearing its ugly head.

I’m not surprised…really. We’ve done this enough to know that it just happens when days and nights are completely flip flopped. I have to admit that I was hoping…just a little…that Mae might defy it all and sleep through the night. She made it until about 3 a.m. and was in bed by 4 this afternoon. I’ll just take it and hope she’ll make it a little longer each day. (Says the girl who took a four-hour nap at 3 p.m. Yeah.) 😉

Oh, where to start, where to start.

After a whirlwind two weeks, spent almost completely unplugged, it’s really hard to even know where to begin.

So, please forgive the broken thoughts and sentences and the randomness. I’m hoping you’ll see my heart through the words, and more importantly, the people.

My prayer in going back to Indonesia was that God would remind me of the good there.

Friends, He did it. Over and over. Through conversations, through memory-making, through adventures and walks and chats and visits. He gave the beauty I so desperately wanted to see, and the funny thing is that I didn’t even have to look very hard to find it.

I also wanted closure. I honestly thought we were going back, once more, so I could say goodbye.

And then my feet hit the ground in sweltering Jakarta, and I realized something before we even left the airport…that while I may say a lot of see-ya-laters to Indonesia, I never want it to be over.

This place, the people…they’re in my heart. I don’t want to say goodbye and just leave it all behind forever.

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We also wanted our daughter to see this place…and even love it. And she did. She may have even told her daddy that she wanted to live there… :) Really, watching her embrace it all and take the adventures as they came was something that reminded me, again, of the beauty that can be found if we’ll just take the time to look for it. And it was kind of a secret dream that we’d get to be one of those families on a motorbike, just once. Granted, we’re about twelve kids from breaking the record, but I’ll take it. I love this pic. :) (And, yes, we really did drive around like this…kind of a lot.)

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God gave me a gift almost immediately upon our return in my friend, Becky. She and I picked up a friendship, one that had gone almost FIVE years without a visit, exactly where it left off. There were motorbike adventures our first morning, more coffees and talks than I can even count, early morning walks, times spent together that were good for both of our hearts. Oh, I love this beautiful woman who is living out her calling. And I count her as one of my dearest friends, even if twelve time zones separate us.

beckyandmel1P.S. Someday I’ll tell you the story of why we took this pic where we did…it may or may not be in the book. 😉 

And with Becky comes her wonderful hubby and this sweet little boy. Becky said it best…We wanted our kids to like each other. We had no idea they would love each other so much. Mae and M had two weeks of play dates and pool times and friendship-building, even though they’re young. What a gift…and I have to whisper something to you. One of the hardest things on Friday, as we got ready to leave, was watching the two of them say goodbye. They both cried, and this mama wept. My daughter is learning at such a young age how much it hurts to say goodbye.

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And, yet, we choose to open ourselves to the goodbyes because we want this kind of life for her…the kind that sees beyond her own backyard and embraces the world and the beauty it holds.

There were so many people who reached out to us during our time in Indo, making time for coffee (I seriously drank more coffee in the last two weeks than I have in my entire life.), dinner, hugs, chats, adventures. Sharing life with these precious friends is a gift, and I’ll take it and breathe thanks, even if it means that years separate visits.

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We stayed with some wonderful friends and so loved reconnecting with them. One of our favorite days was spent with them…they took us to the angklung show, something Tobin and I had experienced several times and were thrilled that Mae got to see. She even got to dance at the end of the show with a sweet girl, the one who beat out her friends for the chance to dance with our girl. That blessed this mama’s heart, too.

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The time we spent in Indo flew…and there are stories, lots of them, to share. Stories from airports, stories from surfing, stories from pausing to breathe and reflect. As they start to spill out, I’ll post them…but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and all that’s going on in my heart feels about like the size of Italy. 😉

As we were flying home yesterday (or Friday, or whenever because, really, the days are all mushed together right now) I was just talking to God. It was a conversation I wish I could have recorded because I’m not sure of all I said, but even just a day or so later, I’m already seeing how pieces of that conversation are revealing what’s next for me and what He wants. And those plans…while they don’t look at all like what I thought they would…well, I think they might be even better.

On our last night in Indonesia, many of our sweet friends came together to love us, and as we squeezed in, trying to get one photo of all of us together, I was reminded of this.

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye this hard.
–A.A. Milne

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For all of the heartache moments and streaming tears, for all of the wishing and wanting to have it all in one place, for all of the blasted tissues I went through on this trip…

I would do it all again.

I would open myself to the reality that my life will always be a series of loving two worlds…and always missing one.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Selamat tinggal, Indonesia…but just until next time.

Sig

When I Really Should Finish Packing…

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…and because I’ve got one, uber-messy, suitcase wide open on the bed…I’m gonna blog instead. 😉

Hey, I’ve got five hours before we leave for the airport. It’s. ALL. good.

And so here I sit…on the hallway floor, leaning against the wall, out of sight of messes and reminders of what I should be doing, and instead…

Letting you know what’s really on my heart. It’s been awhile.

Tonight the three of us are headed out, just one layover and 31 1/2ish hours separating us from a place that holds a piece of my heart.

It hasn’t always been the pretty piece of my heart…but it’s an important one.

The reasons we decided to go back for a visit to Indo are really too numerous to count.

To visit friends and our beloved pembantu.

To take our daughter there so she can see it and know what Indonesia actually is.

To rebel against this ridiculous winter we’ve had. (Ok, I just had to throw that in…not really. Tickets were purchased mostly before the freezing, too-much-snow, madness began.) 😉 I will fully admit that Bali is included in our agenda for a few days, though.

But the real reason…and one that went so unspoken in our house for so long…is this.

We need closure.

Almost four years later, there’s something missing.

I think a lot of it comes down to the way things ended. Pregnancy, leaving the country separately, so many unknowns, a hard last year…it was just time.

And while my 32-weeks-pregnant body couldn’t exactly run out of Indonesia, I sure did my best.

These last years have provided so much time for reflection. For processing. And, yes, for writing.

There is currently a rough draft of a book that I hope and pray will see the shelves of a bookstore near you soon. 😉

But that book…it touches the good memories. A few difficult, but mostly the good. The funny. The ones that are easy to share.

The truth? Is that there’s a lot more that needs to be added…but before I can go there, I need to go back.

I don’t expect any deep, philosophical conversations about the time we spent there to happen. Nor do I really think that going back that far and revisiting hurts is a good way to spend our limited days. But I do think, if for no other reason, my feet need to touch Indonesian soil again so I can say a proper goodbye.

The kind that says, thank you. Thank you for all you meant to me. Not, thank you for giving me so many reasons to want to leave.

My heart is a bit raw when I think of leaving our lives here for two weeks to go back…and yet, I know there is so much good waiting for us. The smiles and hugs and hearts of people who mean so much, the beautiful green and mountains, reminding me of my Creator and the One Who loves us completely. The conversations I can’t wait to have over coffee. (Indonesia makes some gooooood coffee.) And, yes, the outlet shopping. (Oh, come on. You know me, right?) 😉

All of those are so worth it, too.

So I guess, in all of this rambling and putting off the packing, I’m letting you all know that I have no idea what the next two weeks look like.

I know they don’t include a lot of blogging or social media. Or texting. Or, really, being connected too often.

In fact, my time away looks just like that. Away.

Time to breathe and enjoy the moments surrounding me with my precious husband and daughter. It’s truly a gift, and I plan on embracing it.

So if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry.

And if you miss my words, know that I’m busy living the moments so I can tell you the stories later.

I love you all and am so grateful you are part of my journey.

Now, back to packing…though, really. Wouldn’t it be awesome if the suitcases could actually pack themselves?!

See you again soon. :)

Sig

The Pain…and the Good…of Still

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People who know me well…well, they know a lot of things about me.

And one of them is that me + ferries (as in, the boat kind) don’t get along.

At all.

It really all started back in 2006…and probably before, but I just didn’t know it. 😉

My husband and I were living and working overseas in Indonesia. We did okay financially, but we didn’t have a lot of extra money to do extravagant things often. However, we made it a point to travel over each Christmas break since, at that time of year, it was far too expensive to go back to the States. We had fun…Bali, other parts of Java, the beach.

And one year…Thailand.

Oh, my friend Becky and I had the most incredibly fun time planning that trip. We started in October to be sure that we could find the best possible deals on absolutely everything…from hotels to quick, in-country flights, to even leaving the country.

You see, in Indonesia, non-residents who are residents (if that makes any sense) have to pay every time they leave the country. $100. And on our salary, that was a lot.

But Becky and I discovered that by taking an in-country flight to Batam and, from there, taking a ferry to Singapore, we’d only have to pay $50 each.

Score.

With that, and some good bargain-hunting skills, we managed to book our entire trip…eight flights and two ferry rides per person…for around $350 each. Not bad. :)

We flew into Batam late on a Friday and found a place to crash for the night. The next morning we took a taxi down to the ferry terminal, had some coffee and pastries, and bought our tickets for the ferry.

All was happy happy…because I had ZERO clue as to what was coming. None…

Today I’m over at God-Sized Dreams, talking about seasickness, stillness, and what I learned from it. Join me here? :)

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A Tribute…and a Goodbye

My sweet grandma passed away on Tuesday morning.

She was 93.

It shocked me and shook me more than I thought it would. It has taken a few days to even be able to write about her.

And the life she lived.

You see, my grandma wasn’t a normal grandma. Or mother. Or friend. Or, really, human being.

I am not calling her weird, though I’m sure she’s laughing right now. 😉

She was a mother of TWELVE. Not completely uncommon for that generation, but still. TWELVE.

She was a widow at 49, many of her children still at home, her youngest just seven years old.

She went back to school and became a nurse so she could support her family. Though our conversations never really went there, I’ve heard from a lot of people that she was pretty darn good at what she did, too. Somehow, I can totally see that.

She was a volunteer, always helping out at her church’s rerun shop.

She went on mission trips every summer to the Appalachian mountains…until she turned 80.

Yes, 80.

She was a grandmother to 29.

A great-grandmother to 69.

A great-great grandmother to 11.

And when I read these things about her and I see the woman she was and the way she lived and loved…I’m just inspired.

Inspired, not just by what she did, but by the love in which she did it.

It was never about her.

Most of my memories of her are from when I was younger…from the times we would spend at the old farmhouse.

But just a year or two ago, I was back in Creston and stopped over at her house to visit. While we were chatting, I noticed a photo of her with my grandpa that was sitting out…they were both young, in their 20’s, and my grandpa was in his Navy uniform.

I asked her about it, and she started telling me more about my grandpa than I’d ever heard before. And as she spoke, she got this teenager-in-love twinkle in her eye.

I asked, Was he cute?

And she giggled like a little girl. Well, yes.

I think I melted a little here. :)

And we talked about him a little more before the conversation went somewhere else.

I’ll hold that memory dear and close to my heart for the rest of my life…that sweet conversation that took place between granddaughter and grandma, just the two of us. That glimpse into her heart from a place I rarely saw.

She always made me feel special…like I mattered, even though there were so many of us. Well, it’s true. There WERE a lot of us. (Really, you should see what her two-bedroom house looks like when everyone is there.) 😉

We were all special to her…we all mattered.

And she left behind a legacy worth celebrating…and a lot of people who will miss her so much.

I love you, Grandma.

GrandmaAllenFlorence Catherine Allen
September 20, 1920-March 4, 2014

You can read my grandma’s obituary here.

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Five-Minute Friday: Choose

Friends, it’s been too long, and I’ve missed this community of heart-sisters and friends. And so today, I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday. If you’d like to jump in…grab a timer, set it for five minutes, and join me!

The rules: Write for five minutes. No editing, revising, overthinking, or backtracking. Just write. Then leave some comment love for the person who linked up before you…and anyone else because that’s the fun and the heart of the community!

Today’s prompt: Choose

I made a choice tonight.

To come back to write for Five-Minute Friday.

I’ve taken several weeks off, and it has nothing to do with anyone in the community…friends, my sweet sisters, you bless me. And I’ve missed you.

But I’ve also been having a doozy of a time with writing.

I call myself a writer, but for some reason I have struggled…battled…to get those words out.

And so I ran.

Not too far and not too long, but I ran just enough that I could give myself an excuse. I didn’t want to go away, but the choice to stay felt too difficult.

And you know what?

That choice made me miss all of you.

Miss the Thursday nights we used to tweet late into the evening and then spill our hearts through drooping eyelids. Miss the laughs and jokes and comments we shared.

It made me miss my community. A place I find home.

And it reminded me that community isn’t because of ability or the amount of words we can splash onto a page or, even, how beautiful we can make them sound.

Community is about making the choice to show up and love, every single day. No matter what.

Friends, I’ve missed you. And I’m sorry I ran for a little while. I might not be back every week, but I’m not going to run anymore.

Because my community…my family…it means too much to me.

And I choose to be here.

Five Minute Friday

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Coffee For Your Heart: On Death Grips and Inspiration

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We’re sixteen days out.

Sixteen sleeps, as I tell my girl.

It’s crazy…craaaaazy…that in just two and a half weeks, our family of three will be boarding a plane bound for Indonesia. (Only for a two week visit…just in case you thought we were moving back. Nope.) :)

To be honest, I don’t think I’ve fully processed all that will actually go into an opposite-side-of-the-world trip with a toddler. I know there will be extra packing and more organization than normal needed…gone are the days when we can toss things into suitcases the night before and call it good. Now I actually have to plan what she will need, not only while we’re there…but while we’re on the plane. While we’re in the airports. While she’s up at two a.m. and running circles in someone else’s house, thanks to the inevitable, sleep-stealing, jet-lag.

I have gone over and over potential details of this trip in my head…meaning I’m pretty sure I’m missing a lot. (I need to just Make. A. List.) 😉

But I’ve planned surprise activities and gifts for Mae. (A huge thank you to the dollar section at Target.)

Lots of snacks. (Hello, endless fruit snacks and goldfish. Hypothetically, of course. Of. Course.) 😉

New headphones so she can watch movies and play games. (The first flight is 14 hours. The second, nine. Plus a stellar eight hours in the Doha airport. Yeah….)

My goal is to do everything in my power to keep her busy, entertained, and blissfully unaware of what happens when the plane lands.

Because here comes the confession. 😉

I’m not a great flier. I do fine once we’re in the air, but the takeoffs send my heart rate up, and the landings? Well, they send it through the roof.

It’s pretty safe to say I hate landings, which is so weird and ironic, because those landings mean we’ve finally arrived, and the fun can begin.

But I still loathe them…and freak out far more than a person should.

Though the takeoffs make me nervous, I totally plan on grabbing Mae’s hand, comforting her if she’s scared, being close and letting her know that her mommy is there as the plane soars into the sky.

She thinks we’re taking the plane to heaven…goodness, I hope not. 😉

But the landings…well, that’s where I might get selfish and hand it ALL over to my hubby. I’ll be too busy trying to calm my own heart, attempting to keep my pulse inside of my body, hoping I don’t break my fingers as I death-grip the armrest.

And that will be hard for me…I know it. I will struggle as my three year-old sees fear in her mama, up close and right in front of her.

It’s not something I’m proud of…but I also know something. I’ve been on a gazillion flights…I think, last time I counted, we are hovering near the 200 mark.

And I know…I KNOW…it’s not going to be different.

I’m not going to magically have a calm heart and be all chill when the plane hits the runway and, most likely, does a hopefully-only-little bounce. I can pray, and I know He will give me the strength to get through it.

My Father knows how good my prayer life is when a plane is about to land…but He also knows that’s how I face fear.

I’ve been thinking about fear and how I so often view it as a weakness.

But it’s not. Really, it’s just an opportunity to lean on Him and not let that fear overtake me.

And that’s what I’m hoping my daughter sees in me when we have the first of six landings. And the second, the third, the fourth…

When I think about people who inspire me (though I’M not necessarily inspired by ME) I think of those who stare down fear and rise above it.

And that doesn’t always mean the death grip is released and the heart rate returns to it’s usual, whatever number.

It simply means there’s a trust that God is bigger than all of it. Because He is.

I think of a sweet friend and mama who is raising her six precious kiddos alone. She’s so brave as she lives a life that looks different from what she planned, and I’m sure there are times when she is afraid and times when her kids might even see that fear. But she faces it, she trusts in Him as she walks in Grace, and she inspires a lot of people.

I think of a friend who is facing unknown right now…scary unknown. And he chooses joy and trust in the midst of it, knowing that God’s plan is always the right one. That? It’s inspiring.

I think of a dreaming sister who fights for her family and for what’s right, even if it comes at a cost. The days can be hard and the future blurry, but she walks on in faith. And she inspires me.

And I’m hoping that maybe…maybe…one day down the road, my sweet Mae will see the death grip and the shaky, sweaty hands of her mama as inspiring.

Someday. 😉

In the meantime, I’m gonna fight that fear…because He didn’t give me a spirit of fear.

He gave me a reason to lean on Him.

Our Indonesian adventure with a toddler is just 16 days away…bring it on!

This time, as a family of three…and I. Can’t. Wait.

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I love my sweet friend, Holley‘s, new link-up! Her Coffee For Your Heart: 2014 Encouragement Challenge is just what it sounds like. Think of Wednesdays as that day where I just share some encouragement…and you can pretend that we’re sitting at a table over coffee, just sharing life. Sounds like a great way to spend Wednesdays in this space. :) I hope you’ll hop over and join us!

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