small

Oh great God are you small enough to hear me now.

moving rooms

A few days ago Sam and i decided to move a few rooms around in our tiny place. It reminds me of when i was young. When all of my sisters would get the brilliant idea to switch rooms and roommates. We would stay up late and move all our furniture around and tryout out the dresser and desks in new places. There is something to this process that feels so good, a cleansing, a change. It is kind of like tricking yourself into thinking that you are in a new living space, even though the walls and the home are the same. Really, sometimes you just gotta move the couch and buy new pillows, and put the table in the corner at a slant. Here's the thing though, our house is dismantled and i don't know how to put it back together again. The pictures are off of their walls and the shelves are stripped of books and colors. oddly my home mirrors my heart.... as if the things that are a mess in my life don't know how to put themselves back together again. i am tired today, and yesterday and before that. i've given all i can, and i feel so done. it is a sad feeling to say goodbye and to close a door to a life and a friendship and parts of me. but sometimes this happens. The walls get all broken, and the chairs remain empty, frames lose the life that once danced inside them. and the days of sisters laughing and singing falls to a whisper. changing rooms and picking roommates loses its youthful splendor. night falls and sadness rises. and all the rooms are left undone.

four years.

this month marks four years. Four years ago, the Olympics, august, the heat of summer, and the lowest moments of my life. Four years now since i spent those painful, yet glorious weeks alone with just me and Jesus. I battled out the sadness and the loss, the years i went unnoticed and the times i slipped away. we talked, laughed, drank tea, fought and cried- all as if He, Jesus, was sitting beside me on the patio of that deck. i remember watching the sun set every evening and with it my heart sank with the fears that the darkness of night brought, but rejoicing with another long day passing and me still surviving. Me still surviving. ME. In all the violence that took place in my heart, soul, and body, the ME inside was found. She, Anjuli came to life, She became whole. She became one. Four years now since those three weeks in Washington. I distinctly remember a thought i had at that cabin, "God i can't believe you had to bring me to this cabin in Washington, You alone knew that being here was the only way that i would find healing, I can't believe you really want to heal me." i was astonished God knew my heart so deeply, so closely, so profoundly. He knew that in no other circumstance would i find the healing that my heart so desperately needed. i couldn't believe He wanted to heal me in the places of wounded-ness that i had so carefully and meticulously covered. It was that place of pain inside of me that i had slowly come to accept as a forever wound. One that would follow me to my death and be finally at peace only there. this pain i had accepted as a reality that would never ever go away.
...i sat in a room with friends last week. holding my breath from sharing myself with them. I closed my eyes. silence. i felt the nudge inside of me to open my mouth and let my heart out. and there i felt this thought again, " God could you really want to heal this place in me? the hurt, the brokenness, the bleeding that slowly spills into my everyday?" It was the same thought i had four years ago, "i can't believe you really want to heal this hidden place in me. this pain that i had accepted as a forever wound, deep inside my middle" I opened my mouth and my heart came out with my tears. i was loved. i am being healed.
It has been four years and i love who i am and i love who i am becoming. i love that Jesus is with me, within me, loving me. Four years since Washington and the fence and the fears. Four years since i wrote those letters and buried them in the sand. four years. four years since i cut my hair off and starting listening to my voice and being okay with being completely alone. four years ago i became alive for the first time. and this, becoming alive and awakened to life beauty and God, still is in me and moving me... so in some way, all and nothing, has changed.

our vineyard

(John Gorbet's grape vines)

(from our local Farmers Market)

(a vineyard in Southern France)

Recently Sam and i have been on an obsessive streak when it comes to vineyards. We have the blue prints drawn up and the spot located that will hold our future vineyard. I guess i have dreamy visions of a scene from the movie "A Walk among the Clouds." A terrible movie- which i would never recommend, all but the one scene where the whole village is together jumping bare feet on the grapes- that will someday become delicious wine. Everyone is laughing and dancing and pushing each other around- all covered in grapes! love it :) a stomping grape party- who's in? I found some old vineyard and grape pictures to inspire us all in this dream :)

Fun...

and we all like to have fun.

If you post your name in the comment section or email me, I will do the following:

1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.
3. I'll pick a kind of alcoholic beverage to share with you.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.(if possible. if not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me.)
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what actor/actress you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
8. If you play, you MUST post this on your blog.

who wants to play?

i feel in love with Sam today. part 1.

I remember the night that Sam told me that he had driven out to coast, dug his hands deep in dirt, and stood alone feeling the earth between his fingers. It was one of his late night drives. The kind that happen when he is wrestling with anxiety and his only release is a long drive, in any direction, windows down, and the taste of fresh air to his lungs calming his rapid thoughts. I secretly hoped that his anxious thoughts included me and his passionate love for me about ready to burst through his chest, but lets be honest, i bet he was trying to contemplate the meaning of life and how his fingers to dirt may permanently effect the topology of that landscape for eternity. I can just see him now. His red truck parked along some lone highway and Sam down on his knees running sand between each finger and watching each grain fall from his hand and back onto the ground. He does this over and over, and all the while praying the mysteries of God under the dark and starry sky. I think this is a good intro for Sam. If you don't know my handsome man- this is a good start.

I believe our story started years before this day, but seeing this picture of his hands reminded me of how wonderful and altogether silly my sam really is.

This is part 1 of our love story: "I feel in love with sam today"

Spring 1999. The fire alarm blared throughout my dorm room building. Darkness had already settled in on our oceanfront Dormitory, Young hall. My college of choice happened to be located on the beautiful San Diego Coast. From my room (o-2) i could literally taste the salt water on my lips. 150 college Freshmen poured out of the dorms, carrying books, towels, and miscellaneous snacks. Like little mice the chattered rose with confusion and anticipation- why were the sirens interrupting our stressful thursday evening? to quiet our restless questions our Resident Director explained the Fire Drill and the plan of escape in case of a 'real' fire. To combat our frustration with this false alarm- he opened the back of his truck and unleashed dozens of Krispy Cream Doughnuts (if you haven't had these- go to the store and buy some now! AMAZING!) This story is going somewhere- i promise. That night is embedded into my head for this reason. As a freshman in college i had left my home and ventured away to face the world on my own (okay- i only moved 30 min away and i went to a small private Christian college) but it was a big deal okay :) That night i had several of my friends from home spending the night and checking out the school and applying for the following Fall. Of those friends was Sam Paschall- my childhood friend... best friends with my best friends brother (did you follow that? my BF is Krissa- her brother is Robby- Sam's BF- got it? good!) Anyway- Sam was there visiting with a few other guys and my good friend Beth. Up until that night- the fire drill night- i had never once thought of Sam more than him just being who he was- Sam. Skinny, toothy smile, big hands, small body, big feet, rambling stories, secret handshake, silly -Sam. he was never ever anything more to me... then on that night with the krispy Cream doughnuts everything changed. That night he became much more- a potential. You see after having the group down for the night my neighbor (in room o-1) asked me about him and commented on Sam's - here you go- "hotness!" yes- she said it "sam is Hot."- that comment threw me off because i thought she must have been talking about someone else- Sam? skinny Sam Paschall? "uhh- yeah- he is pretty good looking i guess?!#)(@*!" and there it began. Sam moved from childhood 'boy next door' to "he is so hot, lets go buy some hummus and have a picnic on the beach' (i am not sure what that means or where that came from :) all i know is that from that moment on- Sam was stuck there- in the back of my head and every Christmas, summer, fall break- I wondered if i would see him... my potential.

Please pray.

My Nephew Jackson is having open heart surgery in one week. Please pray.

happy 4th

Sam and I prepared for Independence day well this year. While at Blockbuster a few weeks ago we rented the HBO series called John Adams. Okay-we are history nerds, but i am not ashamed- i loved every minute! There were a few nights i couldn't even sleep and Sam got mad at me because i couldn't stop talking about the series. I have a freaky fascination with the history of our Nation and how in the world these men- G. Washington, J. Adams, T. Jefferson, etc. contained the knowledge to lay such a brilliant foundation for America. These men weren't perfect by any means, but they did a darn good job of getting America off to a good start. Freedom. I believe that every human heart screams for it. I remember years ago watching Brave heart on my lap top till 3:00 am. The moment that Mel Gibson screams "FREEDOM" tears came pouring done my face. We want freedom so badly that we will do anything to find it or fight for it. Men will stand confidently in front of a moving tank, or burn themselves to death wrapped in their nations flag, freedom was written correctly by Thomas Jefferson, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."- somewhere in all of us we just know that this is true.

I guess that is why i love the forth of July (good food and fireworks are nice too), but i just remember the foundation that our country was built upon. I know America isn't perfect, but i am thankful that Sam and i have the freedom to decide if we want more kids or not, we can vote, and follow our dreams (as dreamy as they seem to be), we can worship God without fear of government control or death, i can (as a woman) wear a tank top outside and let the sun shine on my face, i can get an education or not get an education, i can take dance classes, and raise Manoah in a world with laws that protect children.

Go rent the series- you won't regret it. here is a fun fact: did you know that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams both died on July 4th - the 50th anniversary of our nation. Jefferson died in the morning and Adams in the afternoon. It is told that Adam's last words were, "Jefferson lives." implying that Adams saw Jefferson and together entered heaven. pretty cool.

new pics with my new cam.

I love my new camera (EOS 40d)- Thank you economic stimulus!

3 day transformation.

Before.

After.

With the generous help of my mom, we tranformed my patio. day 1- pick the fabric. day 2- cut out pattern from the old shredded swing overhang and create a pattern for the table cloth. day 3- sew overhang, pillows, and table cloth. Easy, fun, and the results... PERFECT!

good night Manoah.

with Manoah sleepy in his car seat i sang to him. when manoah gets tired in his car seat he always says "mama" and reaches for my hand. With his little chubby fingers gripped around my thumb i sang. a few songs from musicals like Cats and Miss Saigon, kid songs, and then to old hymns that my mom used to sing to me. before i knew it, i felt tears swell in my eyes. "Oh Lord your Beautiful your face is all i seek..." and "Trust and obey for there is no other way to be happy in Jesus..." and Come thou Fount of every Blessing..." My heart ached. I felt these words and the melodies pierce open my chest and touch this child inside of me. i am not sure what exactly touched me so deeply- that my mom once sang these words to me as i drifted to sleep and now i am singing these songs to my son or if i felt the presence of God- perhaps both. as i type this now i think that in some mysterious way as a child i had a special relationship with Jesus. Jesus was real. Jesus was really my friend... i felt Him. i knew Him. i knew Him like He was in the room, at the table, sitting beside me, and actually inside me- deep deep deep inside of me. i knew He loved me. this is what i felt as i was singing to Manoah- like i was a child being in the presence of an old dear friend who loved me. and it felt so nice. a little and a lot like coming home. something familiar and warm and right. something deep, simple, profound, and peaceful all at the same time. something that made my heart echo "yes and hello."

i parked my car in the driveway. picked up Manoah. He rested his little head on my shoulder and drifted slowly to sleep.

Read the previous blog :)

my chairs that fell from heaven

The day after our plans to buy a cute home fell through Jesus dropped me a gift from heaven. You see, i have been looking endlessly over the past few months to find the perfect used wing back chairs to recover in beautiful fabric. My search always came up empty. Criagslist and garage sales never seemed to have the chairs i wanted. With the pursuit of buying this home my mind became consumed with how i might decorate and paint the walls of our new house. My hopes grew and grew until i couldn't sleep at night because i was planning Manoah's high school graduation party in our future back yard. The moment Sam and i walked out of the Lender's office my heart settled at the bottom of my chest in despair. We drank coffee together and discussed how it wasn't the best thing for us to do right now, we finished our coffee, got back in the car and life would move on as usually.
The next morning as i was piling Manoah into his carseat i looked across the street and saw a community yard sale. I pulled Manoah out and walked across the street. and there it was- the chair i had been looking for! I bought it right then and there! Since i had Manoah I asked if they could move it over to my house when they had the chance. In the mean time i hopped back on Criagslist and looked for a matching chair. I looked and found nothing that would compliment my new great find. Hours later i walked out of my house and found that not only was my chair there, but it had a companion... another identical chair!
I guess in a small way i felt that those chairs fell from heaven. It was like Jesus was saying to me, "don't worry about not getting the house, I will still take care of you and the smallest of your hearts desires." I love when God does things like that... He knows my heart and surprises me with wonderful gifts. He knows me.
The chairs are off at American Upholstry being recovered and i can't wait to get them back. As soon as i do- you will see them here :) I found the fun fabric at www.joeldewberry.com

a lot for a monday.

my head fell heavy on my pillow last night. my eyes were tired and dry from many tears. i had a long day. Rachel's (a beautiful friend from college) boyfriend Joe died last week and yesterday was his memorial service. the odd thing about the sunday service was remembering how only two weeks ago, on a sunday, i sat with Rachel around my coffee table and chatted about her love for Joe. around my table i could have never imagined that only two weeks later she would be sharing those same words for Joe in front a microphone dressed in all black.

her words were spoken with such sorrow and love.

God it was a beautiful service with beautiful people and music and a beautiful message. he was an amazing man. he seemed to live a life that very few even dream of living- one filled with romance, adventures, deep relationships and endless conversations.

Last year Rachel and Joe traveled around the US and everywhere else in a van. If you have sometime take a look at their blog www.vandownbytheriver.blogspot.com
You will see some of the most beautiful pictures and read some funny stories.

I met Joe once and i feel so sad that i didn't know him better. i think we could have been friends.
love you rachel.

done.

i am done! here is my family tree project. it was simple and fun and a really reflective experience. Here it is- canvas covered in suede brown material. colorful buttons with brown embroidery thread. it is hard to see from these pics but each button holds the name of each family member from the Paschall and Maneevone side with their year of birth. The center tree is Sam, Manoah, and me and a lot of empty branches, someday to be filled with names (we hope!) In all, the project cost around 25- 30 bucks (i already had the material). It was so interesting writing all the names on each tiny button... and thinking these are names of people who have lived before me. They had full meaningful lives. They laughed, ate, cried, and played. They are my family... shared blood, traditions, and genetics. life- it is a crazy beautiful thing.
thanks for joining me on this creation journey. Love.

my husband. the preacher.

yup. thats my husband. I'll be perfectly honest and say that he is awesome. he spoke last sunday at church and it was the best sermon i had heard in a long time. he spoke on Humanity's deepest longings. if you have some time you can listen to him too- http://208.106.176.178/mhc_sermon.asp

love you sam.
Anjuli

recently i have feel as though i have been living on the outside.
i don't feel much deep inside me. i mean deep deep down where i am usually gripped by passions and convictions and truths... recently ... i just do not feel moved. I feel life from the outside. i cry, but i only feel the tears on my checks, but not my soul weeping.

this is a numbness from the inside.

i went to a concert last night and heard some really beautiful music. music. the sounds of instruments and melodies contain some profound magic that drills holes in hardened hearts and saturates even the most solid of surfaces. i guess i just felt, for a moment, my insides again and it felt really good.

phase 2.

another taste of my family tree project.
more to come.

made me cry :)

So i am a fanatic 'SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE' fan. I love this show! It makes me really really happy. I discovered that the dancers from this show teamed up with American Idol crew and pulled off this amazing performance. Yes, it made me cry with excitement- i don't care if you judge me for my shallowness... I wept and they were happy tears :)
check it out for yourself (grab some tissue!)

http://www.givememyremote.com/remote/so-you-think-you-can-dance-on-idol-gives-back-video/

family tree...

i've been contemplating for months now how to create this next project. i have wanted to make our family tree (Maneevone's and Paschall's). And like most great projects, creating this piece came to me when i wasn't even thinking about it. and when i started creating this piece in my head i tossed and turned all night with excitement. so here is a small taste of what i hope will be a beautiful project, one with deep meaning, reflecting a life time of memories... stay tuned.

Lost.

Since sam was sick two weeks ago, i did something i said i would never do... i got into a new tv series. We have been borrowing "Lost" seasons 1-3 from my good friend and staying up absurd hours of the night watching people shooting each other, blowing up hatches, finding the 'others', and fighting their own personal demons. To be honest, i love this show. The show does an amazing job of displaying so accurately the truth of human nature. Each character faces trials and through flash backs of their past we understand the choices they make on the island and the struggle they go thru to overcome their past mistakes.

anyway, I've just been thinking about Lost and how i have felt lost a little myself. I sat in a circle with some amazing people last week. I shared a piece of my story and they reflected back to me what they saw.

One woman responded- "i see you not as a pebble skipping on the wrestling currents of a river, but a strong solid rock settling on the rivers floor. You carry depth about you Anjuli"

and another shared. He is an older gentleman, Russian and full of wisdom-
"hold out that picture of your son."
(and i did).
Look at him-"What is he doing?"
"nothing" i responded "just sitting there"
"And do you love him?"- he asked
"yes- i love him very much"- my heart warmed and filled with love for manoah as i looked at his picture, tears filling my eyes
He asked- "i wonder if God feels the same way towards you- even when you are doing nothing?
(hum...i got it- and tears rolled down my checks.)

Sometimes i get a little fuzzy in the brain. I definitely don't see myself as a strong and steady 'rock' or one who is always loved deeply by God. But i'll tell you this... it is real nice to have people just take the time to want to see me and love me and remind me of who i am.

and about Lost. I get so freaked out at night that i can't sleep. i imagine the "others" are outside our house and are waiting to take me away to their huts and stick needles into me. As my good friend reminded me "Anjuli the Others are on an island far far away.. you don't have to be afraid."
Thanks for that reminder :)

Watch Lost- it will open you up. but be prepared to get addicted.

my latest project.

"Actions done in God bind not the soul of man."


Sam turned 27 last week. I wanted to create an image that would be a constant reminder to him of the ways God made him more alive this year. So here it is. happy 27 sam. thanks for spending it with me :) i love you...

"Those without wings should not camp above the abyss. You are camped there. You have wings."

easter.

Today is easter. i feel little, yet i know that His death has given me life. i still feel like i am trying to muster emotions to try and give today more significance. today is something because it is bigger than me. and though i don't feel its depth in this moment, the truth is that i believe that God's Spirit weaves His way into the threads of my being- and in his grace and providence leads me, calls me, and draws me deeper into Himself- into His love. so though i feel little i am okay with that. i remember how i was blind and now i see. that he saw me. he saw the heart i had so hidden, the room where i became so silent, he saw me weeping on the floor of my college dorm room, saw me starring out the rainy window, he saw me when i waved goodbye, he saw me sitting alone in my car in the dark at the beach, he saw me when i said yes, he saw me spill open my heart when i was so afraid, he saw me when i thought no one else could.
and he sees me today-
even if i can't see Him very well.

My son is one.

I love him because...
he is as adventurous as anything
he loves tangerines
he dances to any sort of rhythmic sounds (including his dads singing)
he loves balls
climbing stairs is his idea of a ride at disneyland
he can throw an ugly temper tantrum
he is a human vacuum cleaner, eating anything in sight
he burrows his head into my lap when he is sleepy
he loves veggie tales
he is happiest in the dirt and mud
outside is like a kingdom of the unknown which he must conquer
he loves waking up unexpectedly in the middle of the night for no reason
he is a gift

he is Manoah

happy one year buddy!
thanks for spending it with me.

my band aid heart.

it was as though i saw my heart... deep, thick, and pulsing. there it was in a messy fleshy sort of way. and on my heart were band aids. they were there holding together the parts of my heart that had been ripped apart. yes- one friendship, one rejection, one loss, one walking away, one no goodbye, and one never had. yes, the parts of my heart that were once filled so beautifully by these loves. attachments so deep into my soul, ripped away and now replaced by band aids. band aids corroded, wet in blood, and hanging on by their last ounce of stickiness. i feel my powerless efforts to force the band aides back into place- i pound and i pound the flailing flaps of the band aids to stay down. the littlest stimulus will puncture my band aid and the blood comes gushing out uncontrollably. i replay the incessant arguments, imagine different scenarios, practice endless dialogues, or defenses that may have worked or might work to change the way things are now. yes- i am desperate to plug up the holes in my heart.

and all the while my heart beats away, even stronger, ever louder.

maybe my band aids aren't working anymore. maybe my wounds are deeper than i like to realize or feel or admit. maybe i hate that i still hurt and hurt and hurt from these lost loves. maybe i am afraid that if my band aids fell off... i might bleed my heart away.

washed feet.

i sat hunched over on the kitchen counter with my feet dangling in the sink last night while sam baked oatmeal cookies. Warm water running over my feet is one of my greater comforts in life. in the moments when i am most overwhelmed with 'me' you can find me with my feet submerged in a tub of hot water. after a long and difficult week of fighting off the flu my body craved relaxation. as sam and i were chatting i realized a familiar feeling rush over me, guilt. what am i doing? i should be the one baking. after a whole week of sam caring for me and sick manoah, being double duty at work and at home, here i am just sitting here while he is baking (of all things- baking- the stereo typical women's role). instead of experiencing or seeking to understand my guilt, with all of its frightening roots i said this, "thanks for making those cookies, they look so good." here's the funny thing about me...

i said thank you, not because i am truly thankful (bc i am) but even more than that, i said thank you because i didn't want to feel guilty. by saying 'thank you' i free myself from my guilt. i do this all the time. all the time. i feel guilty. guilty when sam gets up with manoah in the morning or the middle of the night, when i don't play with manoah enough or watch tv when he is awake. i feel guilty for letting him cry to sleep or when i go and pick him up. i feel guilty about driving too much and getting my 'list' accomplished with little manoah just strapped into his car seat or a shopping cart, or stroller. i feel guilty when sam comes home and i don't have a clue what to make for dinner. and when we finally decide what to eat he ends up cooking most of it. i feel guilty when he changes diapers or cleans up around the house. and for all these 'guilts' i brush them away by saying "thank you." somehow thinking that if i can say "thank you" first or fast enough then sam won't get upset or angry. my 'thank yous' pardon my guilt. and for a moment i think i am free.

a wise sage once told me that the only thing i am guilty of is not receiving the love of God. and although i still don't understand this fully in my heart, i believe it to be true. if i believed that God loved me i wouldn't live in fear. if i believed sam loved me, just being me, than i wouldn't be afraid of not pleasing him and losing his affection. love is hard to receive. love is a gift and sometimes i just don't believe i deserve it. perhaps if i can earn or deserve love than i can also take credit for it, and so creating in myself an idol of 'me.'

jesus washed the disciples feet. each of them, including Judas. peter couldn't not receive the gift of love. Jesus replied to Peter, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." Jesus continues, "i have set you an example that you should do as i have done for you." unless i receive God's love for me- His entire and deep, abounding, unending love for every weak and glorious thing about me, i am not free of my guilt and the 'shoulds' that haunt me.

jesus washed the dirty feet of his friends. he knelt down on the dirty ground and dipped each foot into a basin of warm water. his hands held each foot, receiving them as they were. he had a towel tied around his waist and dried the remaining water off of their feet. he stood and moved to the next disciple, one after another, after another. he held them in all of filth of who they were, in the most unworthy places of their bodies. he knelt, came low before them and washed their feet. jesus washed their feet... all sinners, and yes- one murderer.
he knelt and washed feet.

a lot to say a little thing... i resist so deeply my feet being washed...really it is my heart pleading politely to sam and to jesus, "don't love me. thank you. and please don't wash my feet."

the truth is i am tired of saying "thank you."

Peaceful Places.

Our home is a constant work in progress. We just moved things around again for the 100th time. Sam got a good work out. Here are a few shots of my favorite spots.

My kitchen project. I bought the main wood piece at Michaels and painted it taupe and antiqued the edges. Every kitchen needs a chalk board. The verse is Ps 28:7 "The Lord is my Strength and my Shield." We've needed a little extra strength here this week as we all fought off the flu. The iron hook hangings are from Anthropologie. It is hard to see but the glasses in the center box are filled with coffee and each of the cups have a letter on them- S (for Sam). A (Anjuli). M (Manoah)- spelling SAM. Fun huh? I just realized that the other week and had to capitalize on it.

Beautiful Flowers.

I struggled trying to fill up this shelf. I searched the house and found a mixture of blue objects. My goal is to fill the blue goblet with shells Manoah and i find the next time we go to the beach.

my first isaac.

I fed him from my breast for the last time on Monday. I laid Manoah down in his crib and at the alter. My first Isaac. I laid him down in his crib and at the alter and i walked away. I walked away. i hid my face in the arms of sam and i wept. i wept for me. i wept for Manoah...wept for the first moment i ever held him, wept for the joy i found in calming him when others could not, wept for his fingers that tugged on my hair as his tummy filled up, wept for his wondering eye that caught mine as he drank in comfort, wept for his tiny face burrowing deeply into my chest.

My first Isaac. My last feeding. My first laying down. My first letting go. My first Isaac. One week now. Manoah has forgotten. My breasts have not. they ache and pulse in pain... filled, but now to stay full. My first Isaac. my last feeding.

this helmet mom

i am done. tonight and every night, day, and moment after i refuse, resign, and remove this iron helmet fasten so tightly to my head. this helmet i have worshiped and invited onto my body. this helmet covers my ears. it seems to protect me. it seems to conform me. it keeps me from confronting me and my creator. this helmet locks me in place and steals my freedom. i hate and love the way it fits me and for the fleeting moments it whispers to me that i am safe. the helmet carries with it generations of pain and a society that is so muttled in sin that it licks its own bloody wounds to find pleasure. i put this helmet on 10 months, 17 days, 7 hours, and 42 minutes ago. at the moment of his birth i became- this helmet mom, with all of its heavy burdens, and black chocking guilt, with all the anxiety and the fear of lack of anxiety, with the voices of a million other moms screaming -"this way,that way, my way, wrong way" with the cries of my mothers abandonment, and her mothers abandonment. With all of it and them, this helmet digs into my skull, it pulls clamps down around my ears and over my eyes, the helmet has chains that lock around my mouth and tighten around my throat- i can not breathe. and after all this i realize that i can't see my son. he is there, but so far away. there are these walls and layers between us. i can't smell the warmth of my sons skin, feel his sticky hands on my face, i can't hear his constant glorious babble, i can't kiss his soft forehead. i have forsaken these precious treasures in exchange for this helmet mom- the helmet thickens every moment that i let it go unnoticed. tonight- again, with many more days to follow- i remove this helmet. i say no thank you. i stop. i don't want this helmet anymore. this helmet is filled with poison and it is corrupting my soul. i say no thank you to the voices that run rampant in my mind, no thank you to my 'shoulds' and 'oughts', no thank you to my mom, no thank you to the nameless eye that i seek to please, impress, or find applause, no thank you. yes please to freedom, yes please to my son.

a million things...

and a million more. always a million more things to do and a million things left undone. what kind of life is it living from one busy task to the next. i've heard, " that if you have little kids then, that is just the way life is- busy." God i don't want that life. i really don't. i don't want to live life frantically, by a 'to-do' list, or trying to cram 100 different events into one day. i refuse. to be honest- i really shouldn't be writing this blog post right now. i should be taking a shower while Manoah sleeps, i should be working on the two books i need to be editing, i need to pay bills, plan out tomorrow with Manoah, write a letter to Sam, pull out the dry clothes that have been in the dryer for 3 days now, pump, pick out my messy home,and most importantly pluck my eyebrows (am serious about this one). i think about the next week ahead of me and i everyday feels the same way- does it ever end? When my list gets longer and longer, i hope desperately that Manoah will be good, fall asleep when he is supposed to and not need me as much so that i can multi-task. in a sense i wish him away. how insane is that- i wish my son away so i can accomplish something to which i have placed greater significance on. that is insane. While i was working tonight i received an email from an old friend (bless you). something about her email touched me so much. to sum it up- she basically said i wasn't alone in my struggle. I honestly feel like everyone else has their life all put together in these amazing and beautiful packages- and me, i am a mess 99% of the time. I really never know how to love Manoah well, i am a terrible cook, my home is never clean, and to top it off i really believe that i am forgetting how to have normal conversations that don't involve babies, poop, or sleeping. Maybe it was just that fact that someone out there struggles too that brought tears to my eyes. Someone to confirm that being a mom, wife, and woman isn't an easy thing to reconcile. i don't want to live my life from task to task. i really don't. i want to live in the freedom of the Spirit within me and not controlled by the stress and anxiety of the clock screaming at me " hurry-you don't have time!" i don't ever want to wish away my son just so i can finish a load of laundry. maybe it sounds silly- but i really want to learn how to play with Manoah- to get down and dirty- and simply play. i want to be with him. to really just 'be' (in every sense of the word). all the other one million things are just not as important.

thin

sam is gone. he left saturday for a cabin in Washington to find jesus. i am alone. it is a strange thing being alone after not being alone after two years of marriage. i long to be alone, but once Manoah is asleep and i am alone with my cup of tea i realize something- i am not sure who i have become. i am not sure if i like myself that much. i mean- everything i've wanted and aspired to be/become, i am not she. i feel thin. my words come a thin place. when i speak my words don't feel thick, they feel frail and tired and insecure. i am consumed with guilt most days. i am living out of a place that needs to please and impress others and i have forsaken my own soul. i act from a place of neediness and not centered-ness. i am afraid of hurting, offending, betraying, and not living up to the shadowed expectations of others. i am living out of a shell of shallowness. i am sorry. sorry. i am not living faithfully to who i believe i am. i am thin and i don't like who i have become. i am sorry to my husband for not living out a life of centered-ness, but self-centered-ness. i am sorry to my son... i fail him greatly to not be who i am created to be. i am sorry to myself, that i have allowed myself to let my soul become so unattended to. i am sorry to jesus. my soul longs for you, and yet i have found satisfaction from a cluttered mind and divided heart. i feel thin and so afraid. i miss wholeness and my middle. and it all makes me very sad.