Happy Thursday, friends! It’s the last day of the first month of 2013. We are 1/12 done with this year already. Wrap your brain around THAT mess. Anyhooooo…
Look! He’s so cute!
THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:
The #overcomethelie Twitter party last night. We had so many participants spreading the truth about self-love. It was amazing! We ended the night trending at #4. Incredible.
Lionhart. I’ve been doing volunteer work for this organization for a while now and I couldn’t be more ecstatic about the things happening there. It’s amazing. Check it out here and spread the courage around!
Amazing and encouraging lunch meetings with friends and mentors.
Talking music, art, and the like.
Expanding my culinary expertise by way of pureeing my son’s baby food myself. (See also: humility.)
Watching good friends play live music.
Dax’s new “go-to” face. Not sure why he’s really into chewing on his bottom lip right now but it’s tres adorbs.
Reading lots and lots of books.
Tickle fights and laughter with my husband.
“Sesame Street” on Netflix. (YEAH I KNOW American Pediatrics Association, no screen time until Dax is two but can’t we please make an exception for Elmo?!)
Also football? I mean the SUPER BOWL is this weekend, you guys…
Emails from good friends with the phrase “TMI” in the subject line.
“You’re so lucky you’re with me. No one else would ever put up with you.”
My high school boyfriend’s squinted green eyes were pointedly affixed on my sunken face when he said that. I burst into tears and lowered my head to the ground while I sobbed because, in my shame, I believed he was right.
He uttered the same message to me every day for two and a half years. Maybe not in the same words. Maybe not even with words at all. Maybe he’d just use his body to say those things. But, regardless, the message was clear.
Looking back at 15-year-old me who, for whatever sad, desperate reason, decided to give this guy a chance, I wish I could slap me. I must have been blind. This guy wasn’t attractive by any means. He was tall and awkwardly lanky, with unruly reddish-brown hair that was usually styled with heaps of goopy Pomade into some horrendous version of a mohawk. He had braces that held together a cluster of visibly decaying teeth and the gauges in his ears reeked so bad I couldn’t get close to him without wanting to vomit.
But he had a voice in my life. A voice that lied to me. A terribly influential voice that penetrated through to my malleable core.
I felt so trapped in that volatile relationship. I wanted so badly to leave, but I feared that, were I to muster up the courage to finally break free, I’d first get the snot beat out of me and then, ultimately, be alone forever. That’s what he made me believe — that I was unworthy of love and that he was doing me a favor by being with and abusing me daily. How noble.
I never actually broke up with him. He ended up breaking up with me because he slept with one of my friends (which was probably the best thing to ever happen to me, for real). And though the ties to him were severed, the emotional damage was done.
The lie he told me made its home within my fragile heart, a cancer that would eventually spread throughout the entirety of my spirit. It wasn’t until a year into my marriage that I learned that the lie I’d been told so long ago wasn’t true.
Every morning when I roll over and see my husband I am reminded that I am worthy of love.
Every time my son reaches out to me begging to be nursed, I am reminded that I am needed.
Every time my eyes fall upon Mark 1:11, I am reminded that I am God’s beloved, in whom He finds great joy.
These are truth. These are reality.
These are the lifelines to which I hold tight, despite the atrocities of my past. These are the truths that have helped me overcome this lie.
What lie do you need to overcome?Join us TONIGHT at 8PM Eastern for our Twitter party to celebrate the truth! You are loved. You are important. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Here’s a link for more information.
A quick Google search tells me that the average person can see up to 5,000 advertisements a day. That’s a little more than 208 an hour.
Whoa.
That may seem unrealistic at first, but if you think about it, it makes sense.
In the morning, your alarm clock rouses you. You get up, take a shower, and get dressed. Already, you’ve seen the brand names of all your shampoos, body washes, and clothes you wear. While these products aren’t currently trying to sell themselves to you, you’ve already bought them. Your brand loyalty is being cultivated.
Then, you get into your car and drive to work. On your way, you pass billboards, signs, and placards all vying for your valuable consumer eye. Then you get to work, sit down at your cubicle, and open up your Internet browser to check your email. The page you’re blankly staring at recycles a handful of ads based on your past web experience.
At the end of the day, you get in your car and go back home and plop down on the couch to relax. You flip on the television and scroll through channels while flickering ads quietly trigger the firing off of millions of synapses in your brain. You consume an hour or two (maybe) and then hit the hay, all to wake up the next day and start it all over again.
If the average person sees that many ads a day, how many lies do you think the average person is told a day?
Now, I’m a communication major. I have a lot of friends who, after graduating college with me, went off to be very successful advertisers. So I’m not about to bite the hand that feeds me. But if every coffee company claims to have the best coffee out there, like they all seem to say in their ads, at least one of them has to be lying, right?
We are told so many lies each day.
“Wear X brand so you’ll be sexy.”
“Buy Y makeup because it will make your skin flawless.”
“Your looks are the best part about you.”
“Your looks are the worst part about you.”
The truth? You are fearfully and wonderfully made just how you are.
It would be so nice if we could get society to stop lying to us. To stop telling us that our worth is found in outward appearances and things we buy. But that will never happen; we live in a broken world.
But we can’t sit idly by as this happens. We’ve got to take action.It is our responsibility to overcome the lies we are told each day.
Next week, we’ll be teaming up to encourage one another and women all around the globe through inspiring blogs, Facebook posts, and tweets and we want you to join us.
I’m so excited about the change that is about to happen in so many women’s lives. We, as women, have overcome so much throughout history. Now, it’s time to overcome the lie.
Happy Thursday friends! My heart is quite full this week. I can’t really explain why, but over the past five days I’ve just sort of walked around Tallahassee in a stupor, finding beauty and love in every thing and every person I see. I can’t stop finding great things to love about my life here. It is so inspiring.
THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:
SNUGGLE ATTACKS!
Curling up on a familiar couch with familiar people watching familiar hobbitses.
Reading and discussing books with my incredibly intelligent lady friends.
Encouraging lunch meetings.
The weather. OKAY I ADMITTED IT SOMETIMES IT’S NICE TO BE A LITTLE CHILLY OKAY.
Carbs.
Vegan “butter”.
Moving to my new cubicle by the window! I swear the view and natural light has done wonders for my spirit.
The Avett Brothers.
Painting… with a twist!
Wine.
Vegan ice cream.
Trips to the farmers market.
Fun with pureed carrots.
Reading about a dude who sat down to eat with bad people because He loved them so much.
Good books.
Catching up with old friends.
The piano.
Cuddling my sweet boy.
My husband’s nerd voice.
Cute finds on Etsy.
Three day weekends.
Lazy days on the couch in front of Netflix.
See also: lazy days with books.
Encouraging bible studies.
Eating out. Like, all the food.
My husband — he seriously is my favorite person on this planet.
“You never laughed like this when you had Mirena.”
That’s what Dan said to me Tuesday night. He was so right.
Sorry to keep harping on it, but I’m so thankful I got that thing out. I’m also thankful that my life is so amazing that I have so many reasons to laugh and smile.
THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:
Bibleinanight Night.
The smiley poop Emoji.
New pregnancies. New births, as well! #babyfest
Tearful worship.
A birthday hair treatment.
Quick but jam-packed bible studies over coffee.
Lunch with Sydney at T-Flats and the hilarious conversation that always takes place with her.
Spontaneous tickle fights on the floor of E3Kids. (My husband is the best.)
Haphazardly planned breakfasts at Cracker Barrel.
Playing with Dax at bath time. He is so fun!
Dan and Dax visited me at work! For no reason! (Typically it’s because Dan needs to bring something to me/get something from me.)
Great music.
Naps.
Serendipitous run-ins at Redeye Coffee.
Seeing my awesome primary care doctor and my counselor back to back.
Using art to heal.
Raw, honest, candid, and enriching conversations over iMessage.
Giving Dax sorbet for the first time! (He wasn’t impressed, but it was funny nonetheless.)
Walking from my work to my lunch destination to give me the illusion that I was living in a big city again. (It also helped that the weather that day was mimicking that of London and Chicago in the fall.)
Texting a friend all morning and then running into them on my lunch break.
This, particularly in the wake of the horror that took place last Friday.
White elephant gift exchanges, especially one in which a Justin Bieber toothbrush made an appearance.
gChat.
Harry Potter-themed insults.
Hearing someone say, and I quote, “You need to write a book next year and self-publish that SOB.”
A few of my blogger friends write about the songs that influence their lives on a daily basis, so I thought I’d give it a try today because this song has been the fragile thread holding me together for the better part of two weeks. I’ve written about this song before, but it tends to be my go-to tune to pour into my brain whenever I come into times of self-doubt, loneliness, and fear. I’ve been violently thrust into the throes of these emotions lately, and so I’ve been trying to actively seek refuge in art to effectively surf these unrelenting waves of pain.
Monday, I believe, I pulled this song up on my iPhone, stuck my earbuds in, and pressed the “repeat” button and let myself fall into it.
When I got into my car, I plugged my phone into the auxiliary port and turned the volume all the way up and actually worshiped. Like, for really real worshiped. In my car. With my eyes closed (only at stop lights, of course) and hands raised.
It’s now Thursday, and I’m still here in this space, running down my phone battery in the name of spiritual health.
The melody is simple, but I wouldn’t call it catchy. It’s not a song that, in my opinion, is easily “stuck” in your head. I think you have to intentionally put it there (as opposed to the likes of “Call Me Maybe”, for example) and I’ve been trying to do just that. The words are small, uncomplicated, and unobtrusive, but extremely powerful in times of defeat.
To all who are looking down / holding on to hearts still wounding
For those who have yet to find it / the places near where love is moving
Cast off the robes you’re wearing / set aside the names that you’ve been given
May this place of rest / in the fold of your journey / bind you to hope / we will never walk alone
In the shelter of each other / we will live / we will live
And Your arms are all around us…
God has given us each other / and we will never walk alone
Whenever I discover a really great record, I listen to it to death. I remember when Plans by Death Cab for Cutie came out, I put the disc (what is this “disc” I speak of?) in my dashboard CD player and listened to it whenever I drove for the better part of eight months. The boy I was in love with at the time found this irritating.
“You always listen to the same songs,” he lamented. “You’re so boring.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m boring. But I’d like to think that, as a writer and a musician, I happen to understand the power of words and music and that I intentionally expose myself — albeit repeatedly — to the good stuff because good art has the ability to, if you let it, seep deep within your DNA. To become a part of you for the rest of your life. There are still pieces of Plans, for example, that, whenever I hear them, bring me back to that time when I was “boring”. With the opening riff of “Soul Meets Body” I can still feel the hot, sticky summer air flooding my Mazda 626 and I can still smell the mold in my tiny student apartment. I can remember what it felt like to know that my soul and my body were, in fact, different things and I can remember being in love and not exactly knowing why.
By listening to the simple, repetitive, beautiful words and music of “Shelter”, I can feel hugs from my husband and scruffy, hasn’t-shaved-in-a-few-days forehead kisses. I can see encouraging text messages from my pastor. I can feel a smile creep across my face at the sight of any one of my amazing friends. I can feel the warmth of God’s embrace. I can actually feel grace. I can feel this grace I read about and know that it is real.
Our tears aren’t ours alone / let them fall into the hands that hold us.
Let them! Let them!
And Your arms are all around us / and we will never walk alone.
The last words of the song are “never walk alone”, not preceded by the “and we will” part.
To someone who is listening to that song for the first time, it may seem that it is one last mention of the very repetitive refrain. But to someone like me, who has listened to the song so many times that it is almost white noise — someone “boring”, I guess — I see it as an intentional call to action by the lyricist.
Never walk alone.
Yes, God gives us a shelter. He gives us community in which to do life. But it is up to you to seek it out, to intentionally grab people in your life and boldly ask them to walk alongside you. Even when it is hard. Even when you are hard to love, you have GOT to let yourself be loved because, damnit, that’s what this grace thing is all about.
So, we’re knee-deep into the season of Advent and I have yet to acknowledge that on my blog. While I do mention my faith on here from time to time, I try not to blog exclusively about it because I’m a bloody coward and don’t want to lose my Atheist followers. (SHOUT OUT! Love y’all!) But, as a woman of faith, sometimes there are things about my life that are totally, completely, 100% wrecked by Jesus and, at the same time, super bloggable.
This post is about one of those times. Sorry if it offends you or whatever. I don’t mean to do that.
We cool? Cool. [Atheist/Christian approved fist bump]
Being a non-denominational gal, I typically shy away from stuff like Advent. But I have been actively participating in Lent the past few years, so I figured why the H not, because Lent is a lot harder than Advent, in my opinion. If I can refrain from straightening my hair for 40 days and learn something about God, I can probably learn something about God in the days leading up to a holiday where I know I’m gonna get a butt load of presents. #winning
My daily devotional time (that’s just a fancy-pants Christian-ese way of saying, “reading the Bible and praying and journaling every day”) has been through a guided set of scriptures put together by a friend in my bible study. Typically we start out in the Psalms, either crying out to or praising God for pain or for joy. Then we read some Old Testament major/minor prophet goodness, then hit the Gospels, then call it a day.
Monday’s chunk out of Isaiah is all about Judah’s guilt and judgment by God. Without getting into too much detail, Judah is a little brat. And God is tired of it.
A lot of the time when I read these stories, I find it hard to connect with them. After all, I’m not a drunkard, I’m not an adultress, and I’m not a murderer. I’m a good little Christian girl, trying my hardest to stay under the judgment radar. But when I read this excerpt, it clawed its way into my heart and hasn’t left since.
What sorrow for those who drag their sins behind them
with ropes made of lies,
who drag wickedness behind them like a cart!
— Isaiah 5:18
While I’ve never killed anyone or had an affair, I felt as though the writer was speaking directly to me.
In recent days, some interesting things have developed in my personal life. (No, before you ask, I’m not having marital problems and my child is completely healthy.) I can’t, in good faith, blog about these things so candidly because I wish to protect the other parties involved. But I will say this — going through what I’m going through right now has made me realize that, like the sinful Judah, I tend to drag my past hurts, failures, and sins behind me, tethered to my weary ankles by the deepest, darkest lies I’ve ever heard told.
You have failed at relationships. You have failed at a lot of things. You are a mess and everyone around you is about to find out.
Advent is a time of “active waiting” — that is, actively seeking the savior that is bound to somehow be born to a virgin (which, side note, after giving birth I’d like to say that it’s completely unfair of Mary to have to go through the BS that is childbirth without at least getting some action first) and allowing His grace to be enough.
For me in this moment, active waiting looks like this:
Allowing those who love me to actually love me
Allowing those who know me to actually know me and still actually love me
Basking in the grace I receive everyday, not because of anything I’ve done, but because of what He has done
Not giving a f___ what others think about me, as my good friend Nora, the self-proclaimed monk, has told me.
What sorrow for those who drag their sins behind them. What joy for those who die to them and rise to Grace!
I took last week off of the blog for the holiday. Hope you’ll forgive me for that. But despite losing sleep over a teething four-month-old and my own unnecessary hormone ingestion (blog post in the works) I have so much to be grateful for! Let’s get to it.
THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:
He’s finding his hands! So cute.
Getting to spend Thanksgiving with my mom! She drove all the way up here for me! (Okay, let’s be honest — she drove up here for Dax. And who can blame her?)
Seeing a doctor that finally listened to me about my issues with my IUD.
Days at home with my boy.
Lunch at Red Lobster.
Encouraging text messages.
Leftovers.
Melted marshmallows on top of pumpkin pie. GENIUS!
Gratuitous Emoji use.
Making music with good friends.
Salt and vinegar chips.
Coffee.
Birthday celebrations.
Our amazing nursery and our friends!
Bathtime.
Jammies, particularly those of the “footy” persuasion.
Beer.
Starting and ending my work day by nursing the boy.
Our baby boy is now three months old and, unfortunately, has decided he’s too old for naps. A 30-minute snooze here, a 45-minute conk-out there, but nothing substantial. It’s quite the challenge to get this boy to lay down AND STAY DOWN for an hour or more, despite his obvious developmental (and emotional) need for quality shut-eye.
I suppose he takes after me in this regard. I gave up napping at just eighteen months but Dax, the overachiever that he is, is trying to beat me on this one.
During the day, he’s happy as a clam to go nap-less. He smiles and coos, causing us to get dopey-eyed and do the same, all the while distracting us from the imminent doom that awaits us come bedtime.
When the sun goes down, our son’s blood pressure rises along with sizable shrieks of protest. We change him into his snuggly pajamas and try to avoid bursting into uncontrollable sobs as we clutch the angry, writhing child who, somehow, becomes stronger than us at night, against our weary chests and attempt to rock him into oblivion.
As my spirits sink, I find myself dejectedly repeating a plea in my head:
Oh, Dax, if only you would rest. If only you would shut your little eyes, stop screaming, and let yourself fall asleep once and for all. You would be such a happy child. You would be so safe. So sound. If only you would stop fighting me and just find rest in my arms.
After what feels like an eternity, he does finally nod off into the deepest, most restful sleep possible. He face-plants on our bed for hours and hours, completely still, as if he wasn’t just a mass of flailing arms and legs mere minutes before. And each time I think, See? Isn’t this better than fighting me? Isn’t this rest better than the anguish and pain?
I imagine that, as he ages in infancy and gets more accustomed to our bedtime routine, this will get better. And then, when he’s old enough to understand the implications of rest and sleep, he will resume the bedtime battle, as if he is suffering from amnesia in only one tiring and frustrating way.
As I transition through this identity crisis (that is, going from the go-to girl for everything to a 100% committed mom) it’s hard to find my center. It’s hard to focus on the good, rather than the bad. It’s hard to not be bitter about having to work, or not being able to be involved in the things I used to be involved in, or that my friendships have to be much more intentional now that my free time is basically null and void. Consequently, in my prayer time, I have found myself calling out to God selfishly, sinfully, demanding, “Why is my life ___ way as opposed to ___ way? Why am I ___ kind of person and not ____ kind? Why are things happening the way YOU want them to as opposed to the way I want them to?”
Last night, as I was falling asleep and praying this familiar prayer, I heard my own voice respond back,
Oh, Lindsay. If only you would rest.
My heart stopped. I went still. I listened some more.
Oh, Lindsay. If only you would rest. If only you would stop fighting Me and let Me love you. If only you would realize what plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. If only you would close your eyes and stop fighting Me. If only you would rest.
fueled by diet coke 