Hold on to me 'cause i'm a little unsteady....

i have so much going on this week that it makes me tired and gives me anxiety and i already feel like i'm going to vomit. so let's just pray it all works out and i don't talk myself into destruction. 

the world may be broken but hope is not crazy

The way that laughter
cuts the air, ricocheting off the silence
filling spaces that felt forgotten is a
promise
that life wont break
your spirit. 
for everything a season,
but laughter is for such a times as this
and where there is laughter
there is infinite hope.

You run me down right restless and wild.

I love everything about the end of the year. December is probably the prettiest month. (but like, don't tell October, cause she's my girl and I don't want her to feel bad).

But the snow and the sparkles and the glow of December is literally unbeatable. I also like reflecting and projecting.

2017 was a strange little bird. It was full of a lot of life-giving, smiling inducing, instagram worthy moments. But it was also hard, and strangely disappointing. Due to my general laziness this year, I apparently didn't choose a word to go focus on, which, turns out didn't kill me, so it's probably okay.

What, then was this year about, I mean if it wasn't a word, then what was it? I don't know that I have an answer. It could be about establishing myself. It could be about trying and effort and putting myself out there in a way that led to more friends, and new friends that weren't because of someone else.

So many it was about creating my own little world and for the most part, it's been super lovely. Although I've come to expect that not everyone I let into my little corner of the world is going to be amazing, but giving them a chance won't kill me and that is a lesson I apparently needed to learn.

Not everyone is going to break my heart, but not everyone is going to be a gem either. The effort. The trying is what's important. The fear of rejection was pushed back ever so slightly. Forward momentum is forward momentum. I'm not picky.

So I guess that's what's to be learned here. I stood at the beginning of 2017, holding out my heart in the palm of my hands, offering it to whoever would take it and it didn't kill me. It actually did the opposite. It's been a good feeling to offer the world, or at least part of it, my heart again.

also, i discovered instagram story so my life is forever changed.

Which brings us to 2018. So far, things are on the up and up. I've been thinking about what I want 2018 to look like for months now. My words this year are basic, maybe a little odd, but will point me in a direction that looks more like Jesus.

Word one: Witness. I want to pay attention to what's happening in and around me, and the people I love. I want to see them and see the good that is being birthed in them. I want to spend more time looking at all the places God is at work. The broken places especially. Beautiful, good things come out of the broken places, and I want to be paying attention.

Word two: Celebrate. The world has enough critics. I want to spend time celebrating the life, the opportunities and the people that cross my path. My natural inclination is to affirm and celebrate people, so this seems easy, and I hope it is mostly. But I'm looking specifically at how to celebrate from a place of brokenness.  When life feels hard, and the overwhelming message is a negative one, how do we celebrate what's in front of us? How do we celebrate the people we want to punch in the face. What kind of love does it take to say "may it be so" and celebrate in the midst of a storm?

(Not that I'm prayin for storms. No thank you. GTFO with the storms.)

And finally: Amen. It's not a noun or a verb. It's an exclamation. It's uttering that something is true. What would look like if amen isn't just the what you say to end a prayer? What if it's an attitude? What if how i live and what i say says "amen" to who God is and what he's doing? I don't even understand what this means quite yet, but i'm excited to find out. "In heartache or hope, i swear i'll say...amen"

Winter....

Like a true mid-westerner, born and raised in both blizzards and sweltering heat, I can't imagine living anywhere where it can't be 70 degrees one day and snowing the next.

I live for the drama, but also the symbolism in all the seasons.  As i'm sure you're all aware, i love a good life metaphor.

We all know that Fall is my most favorite. It's my oldest, sweetest friend. Fall is for homecomings. But it's winter that concerns me most today.

Winter is magical. Winter is for home. It's for cozy. It's for belonging to a place and people. Winter is for family and traditions and for the world feeling a little bit smaller.

People are kinder in the winter. They hold doors open, and shovel each other's sidewalks and chat about the snow and cold or whatever winter weather is happening. Let's face it, it's never the same and that's kind of why we love it. The holidays help. They center us and calibrate us to what's important.

Winter in quiet. I live life on full volume and in ALL CAPS, and winter provides a lovely opportunity to slow down and quiet down. To listen, to wait, to pay attention.

My best pal is preaching her first sermon on Sunday. I'm so excited. And it's happening in winter. I feel like winter is our season. It was in winter that she first rescued me from a car accdient and let me sleep on her couch. It was a funny set of circumstances that lead to me sleeping on her couch for a whole week, and wearing all her clothes and helping move her mom in the dead of winter in January. It's been winter where she's rescued my heart a billion times. It's where my family ornaments hang on and with theirs. It's where the kitchen feels cozy making Grandma's Pearl's sugar cookies. It's where millions of conversations and Saturdays were spent at the table. It's when we've sold mugs, and made handmade Christmas decorations that made a big church lobby feel like a throwback to Christmas' of a sweeter time. It's where a room full of women were challenged to find their joy and to keep choosing it. It's been in winter when we marched for all of the women that came before us and the women who walk with us.

I may not remember the specifics of what has all happened in our season but I do know how it makes me feel. Winter is significant always. Important things are birthed. foundations are laid. Seeds are planted so that when spring comes, life starts all over.


This is such a sweet time. I'm so thankful.

a work in progress...literally and figuratively.

I was 8 the first time I had a "good enough." Thought. It came on the heels of my dad asking me what he thought about him having a girlfriend. He asked it so casually as we were walking and I was so young that the implications of this question were almost lost on me.

Why wasn't my mom enough for him? why wasn't I? What was missing that home couldn't give him.

And, if I had to pick a defining moment from my life, that would surely top the list. But the thought kind of crept in like rolling fog, or frost, or the way sunsets so quickly, yet slowly go from brilliant yellows and pinks to dark blues and greys.

And then it just stayed. It hung around like cobwebs or fruit flies. Not life threatening but present enough to be annoying.

and I carried it with me. It manifested of course in a lot of different ways. When I was young, it was rule-following, and good grades and being so nice. Desperate to be good enough for my parents, for my friends, for my teachers...desperate to find be good enough to make them stay, to make them love me.

As I got a little older, my desire to please my parents lessened as I became more aware of their brokenness individually and together. The more I felt pitted against them, the more I searched for acceptance in my peer group. When being the nice girl wasn't working, i let go of my filter and said anything and everything that came into my head.

I discovered I was funny, but I also discovered that I could be incredibly mean, and while in my gut i knew that wasn't who I was, it was working.

but it only worked for a while. I went to college and realized that I wasn't as worldly and i thought. I was pretty innocent. My chastity certainly wasn't a badge of honor. So college chip away at it. Kissing boys, going further than I wanted but not too for, drinking too much, pretending that none of this bothered me. I fought a battle in my head, I wasn't wildly fond of being hungover, fighting the pressure of being or doing what people wanted to expected of me.

The truth is while some of it was fun, some of it wasn't. Some of it made me feel less than when i was shooting for good enough.

I never felt good enough. I don't think I feel good enough now, to be honest.

Then i moved to the cities. I was searching so passionately for a place to belong, that i did whatever people asked of me. This season was a bit trickier. It's easy to know that kissing boys you don't know and drinking too much to fit in is not a great choice, but volunteering, serving, being kind to people has it's own weird unhealthy underbelly.

I didn't know that i was slowly killing myself. I was slowly turning into a shell of who i was. The best parts of my gone because I was so willing to do whatever people wanted so they wouldn't leave.  So i would be good enough for them to stay...

and as you would expect from any story, things fall apart, the center cannot hold. You can juggle and say yes and do whatever until you cant. Something breaks.

And you find yourself on the kitchen floor begging for directions or a map or a way back to who you are, only to find that the truth is you're not good enough and you never were.

But because God is graceful, i don't have to be. I can simply be. If you can figure out who you are and what you're living for you don't have to keep reaching for "good enough"

I'll never be smart enough, love Jesus enough, be pretty enough, or skinny enough, by my standards or the world's for that matter, but I'm becoming more okay with that because I am loved. I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, i am an image barer and is enough.

Jesus was good enough so because we weren't.

Nowadays i fall somewhere in the chill about life and freaked about my life. Every time someone else gets engaged has a baby, gets a boyfriend....has forward momentum, my good enough bullshit sneaks out.

Maybe I'll find a sweet boy to marry, Maybe i won't. But either way, my value is the same.

This story isn't sad. I was never assaulted, I have a good relationship with my parents,  my parents are still married for better or worse, I am loved, i have a job and a life that is lovely, but it's not without it's hiccups.

The pursuit for good enough could have led me down a very differnt path, but it didn't and for that i'm thankful.

Detours....

I spent the evening in St. Paul tonight, which was great because St. Paul recalibrates me and inspires me. And, if I'm honest, I've been in need of a little inspo, so I took the opportunity.

And that's where the first of many detours come in. First, I wanted to go to the new spyhouse, and I did, except that it's literally a closet and it was overrun by college kids who I can only assume by their disheveled appearances are either in the throes of finals or just super mega hipsters who don't shower and are next level organic.

And either could be true because I just read Into the Wild and maybe they did, too and they're all on some transcendental journey.  All millennial hipsters aside, it was too crowded for this 30 something private school teacher who was just there to work on some churchy things.  So, took a detour over to Ninas, which i love, but wasn't feeling it. So over the Wabasha Bridge, I went, to the ever faithful Amore Coffee.

This is where the real detour comes in. Normally, I just take the High Bridge to Amore but it's closed forever. (Not really, just for a bit. They're fixing it so people don't die, i think. Whatever it's inconvenient). This bridge issue forced a detour over the river and through the woods...actually it's probably more over the river and up a bluff? I don't know landforms, I'm just taking a guess. All i know is that it's poorly lit, windy, and basically something you'd see in a horror movie.  Needless to say, I was annoyed.

I finally arrived at Amore, got minimal work done for reasons that had nothing to do with the atmosphere or the detour, and then I headed back from whence I came.  This time going down the bluff...(i don't know, it just might be a hill, how do you know if it's a bluff?) But then right there, through a clearing in the trees were all the lights of the riverfront/downtown/cathedral/capitol. I AM OBSESSED WITH THE CITY AND IT'S SKYLINE.

It was beautiful and I had a stop and take it in for a second. I almost never go that way because the normally the bridge isn't under construction so I rarely get this view of the city.

And i'm smart enough to spot a life metaphor when I see one. My life has not gone as planned. I'm not married to a nice boy and i don't have kids. I'm not teaching in the inner city, Dangerous Minds style (oh, hey 90's throwback). i don't have precious little house in the city with hardwood floors and built-ins.

I don't know if that will actually ever happen. I've taken some detours and without them, I would not have this view of life, and people and Jesus.

Well, damn. In this time, (advent, duh). I think it's important to acknowledge that this is not the life God intended for us. So we wait, we prepare our hearts, for Jesus. In that waiting, we have expectant hearts which are met by a tiny baby. Not exactly what we wanted, but exactly what we need.

Our view needs to shift from our plans, our missteps, our expectations. We need to look through the clearing and see Jesus, coming on the horizon. A promise kept. A new path born which will lead to the cross.

Because of this baby, how will we choose to see this season? how will it change the way to see out lives?

I don't know, but i'm waiting to find out what this season has for me, and maybe you too if you're open to it.

Also: My advent playlist is so good.

There's steeple bell ringing from the church that saved my soul....

All the cool kids write about the Table. About cooking, about how making something that feeds your people is a holy experience. How many times have you read that the table is a place to be feed and seen. Physically and spiritually.  So many times.

And it's about creation. Taking something God has provided, a harvest, and making it something beautiful and delicious. How many times have you read about the smells and textures and felt like you were there. So many times.

It's a cliche, an old hat, and something that we could probably write off., if it wasn't the most true thing in the world.

Because absolutely everything anyone has ever written about the table and kitchen and the act of cooking is a billion percent true. It's beautiful and holy and cathartic and cleansing and perfect.

There is something about the whole experience of cooking. Like from fram(ers market) to table.

The act of carefully choosing ingredients. The smell of basil and garlic, the way that good bread is soft and flakey, and the colors of everything. The vibe of the farmers market is a simple one. It's uncomplicated and organic. It's proof that we long for the days of simplicity. I have a deep respect and reverence for farmers, their job is a hard one, but perhaps the most important one. One that is dependent on God's provision.

Planting, and harvesting, and seeds and growth. IT'S FREAKING BIBLICAL.

The prep of eating is almost my favorite part. I LOVE being a sous chef. I love cutting and stirring and measuring. More than that I love the conversation that goes with it. It's sometimes idle chit chat, some times it's deep and meaningful. It's always memorable. It's full of laughter, and questions and connection....AND I LOVE IT.  It's also full of music. Sometimes it's worship music, or acoustic, or oldies but it's always the exact perfect vibe for the occasion.

I learned so much about cooking and life and God around the cutting boards in the the kitchens of the people who've gone before me.  Even back when I was little and I baked with my mom and grandma.

Maybe its such a holy experience because it engages all your senses.

Once it's done, gathering your people around the table to talk about whatever, sometimes it's silence because the food is that good,  or because the season is hard and words come slowly, sometimes you talk so much your bites and few and far between laughter and stories that are co-authored, and tag-team told.  Sometimes wine flows freely, sometimes we're just looking for the comfort of go-to meatloaf and mashed potatoes so mend broken hearts, other times we're cutting cake, pie or brownies or some other sweet treat because we are celebrating each other, and how far we've come and how faithful our God is.

After the food is done, and plates are cleaned, we linger for just one more story, one more laugh, savoring the moments that are here. What if lived our entire life like it was one long dinner. What if we stayed around long enough to savor, to reflect, to help clean up. What if we said yes to one more glass of whatever your having. What if we weren't in such a hurry all the time. What if the table...wherever it is, whatever it look likes was enough for us.

The table, the kitchen it's all sacred space. Holy ground. There is something that happens there that you cant replicate anywhere else.

If there is anything this summer is teaching me/reminding me of, is definitely the things that fill me up and give me life. It's a summer of getting back to my roots. So much of that is the kitchen and chopping and listening and learning.

The truth is, that I've been out of sorts a little. Slowing getting back to the core of who I am, and what i've been discovering is that I've needed to see God in places outside of church. I've needed to feel God in places where he's felt absent. I need to get my butt back to church, certainly, but I've needed the feel sacred spaces again.

It's been a beautiful journey back to myself, I don't know that I'm there completely, but I'm getting closer. The desire to love my people (and everyone, really) well is alive and well.

These are Holy Days and I'm so thankful.