Orange makes everything better.

hello.

2011-03-05T23:55:00.000-08:00

i miss it here... this blog, this tiny space. this place is a secret. i don't post it on facebook or twitter or any other form of social media. it remains a space for me and maybe 2 followers in the world, which are probably my mom and sam. i grew into myself here. i grew into an artist here. and i grew into a mom here. i created here, cried here, and struggled here. i fell in love with photography here. i guess i lived here for the first year of my son's life. i remember spending hours (not an exaggeration) on blogs... falling in love with color, design, and do-it-yourself projects. i'd spend every moment of manoah's nap scouring blogs and becoming inspired. i miss it here now. i miss who i was. i see my frailty as a young mom and striving artist. i like who i was (which is ironic because most of these entries are about how i didn't like myself!) i kind of wish i could go back to my 26 year old self and whisper in her ear,
"it is going to be alright. you will be alright." and i'd give her a hug.

hello again.

12

2010-04-11T21:49:00.000-07:00

there may just be a few who remember that day. the one with the orange juice, and the avocados, and the unwanted babies breath. and how our tears fell like the rain that showered us on that day. he adored her. she met him at the alter. and before God and others and me, they said they would love each other forever and ever. they promised they would. the promises of a lifetime of devotion and compassion and passion all bound in the hands of each other and their loving Savior. we sang, and they sang, and i could hear my mom singing. and we ran out to meet them... laughing. how we would laugh. and when no one was watching them danced, but i was watching.

my how beautiful she looked on that day. my how deeply he looked into her eyes. oh my, and how they loved each other on that day. and they promised they always would. and on that day 12 years ago they promised. how was it that they forgot. and many now may not remember, but i do. i remember.

460 east 6th ave.

2010-03-05T08:15:00.000-08:00

what this home has been for me.
a place that in the most discouraging times of life, God rolled out the red carpet and said, "welcome to the home of your dreams. i see you. i know you. i love you"

a place that in the most devastating of times, God created a kingdom to absorb all of the rage, all of the tears, and all of brokenness.

a place that in the most joyous of times, God gave us a home where the candles would shine brightly from the crawford ceilings and the music would resound from the hardwood floors.

a place that after a long night up with my boys i could find rest on my porch swing and watch the neighbors pass by, with my cup of tea in hand.

a place that was given to us for a time. a place that will never be forgotten. a place that is etched into our journey.

sunday.

2010-01-27T22:55:00.000-08:00

i sat alone at church on sunday. watching. looking. wondering if there was a soul in this place that my soul could connect to. i sat and i sank deeper into my chair. and then a familiar face invited me in. she looked at me and said, "it is so good to see you." i smiled, i turned back to re-engage in the worship. and i felt warm tears welling in my eyes. and i thought to myself...

it feels so good to be seen.

to love another is to see the face of God.

5

2009-12-08T23:57:00.000-08:00

my center. our center. his center in me. i am an expert at avoiding the true restlessness that i so often feel. i run and push myself, i turn, i cover, i hide from all the very things that are me. and then in these rare and still moments i am called home again. i am drawn in. i am reminded of who i am and who he is. there is no fear. there is no shame. and i am left in awe. there is a stillness that comforts my anxiety and a familiarity of a place that i have been so often before. i am seen. i am known. and i am loved.

waiting.

2009-08-14T15:47:00.000-07:00

if you wait long enough, the moon will always rise.

my 4:00 tears

2009-06-24T22:50:00.000-07:00

(my letter to Oprah- please build us our dream house!- does it sound too desperate? 12:27 am- i should really be in bed)

Dear Oprah and Nate,

my 4:00 tears. i felt them creeping in. the slow burning sensation of water filling my eyes, combated with my stubborn determination to not let these tears manifest into reality. With my un-napped 2 year old bouncing on my head, and my newborn tucked away asleep, I indulged in my 'mommy veg-out' hour session of Oprah. Yes, when i happen to look at the clock and it is anywhere between the hours of 4 and 5, i make my way over to the couch and pay a visit to my old friend Oprah. Today's show was Nate 'the decorator' giving a family their dream house makeover. While watching the house be transformed i felt it, the tears... they were coming. Some might attribute such a breakdown to the postpartum emotions, lack of sleep, or my body strung out on too much caffeine, but i knew it was none of these. It was that moment in life when you see the dreams you once clung to with such passion and fervor, now cloudy and somewhat hard to remember. Those dreams- the ones you stayed up all night dreaming with your husband to be- Those dreams that gave you a purpose in life- Those dreams that touched you so deeply that they made you scream, 'this is what i was created to do!" Yes- those dreams... the ones that brought on these tears. it was those dreams that now, may actually never be realized. My 4:00 tears.

I (a stay at home mom) married Sam (a middle school pastor). I met him when i was 9 and married him him when i was 25. From 9 to 25 a lot happened, but it is enough to know that I married my best friend, twin soul, and man who is a better human then i will ever be. We started dating in December and got married the following October 2005. Those months were a whirlwind of planning our wedding, but mostly planning our lives. Here is how our dreams went: get married, have some children, and live our lives- full, big, intentional, and brilliant... to care deeply about the hearts of people, share the love of God that is given to each human being, long to see lives healed from brokenness and pain, we imagined being present with people along their journey, and dreamed to see people come alive. We've both invested our time into an education that would allow all these dreams to become realized. These dreams would be manifested through our home. A place for our children, but also community. Our dream house would be a place for our neighbors and those in need to find a home. Our home would be a place to open our doors to those without a place to call their own. Through an in-home counseling center, our home wouldn't just be an institution, but a space for restoration and healing.

It is likely that my tears came from the reality that this dream has faded with time, young children, a home where we rent the upstairs with our aged landlord living below. Our sons sleep in our little walk-in closet, we can't fit in our kitchen, our children can't play and run in the house because we don't want to wake our elderly landlord, we were given a piano that can't be played because it would be too loud, and there is little space for our friends, family, or community to even sit and enjoy a meal together. We are thankful for our lives and know that we have so much more than so many. Our space is small, but i love to make it feel like a home. We have always wanted people to walk into our home and, just by looking around, feel like they know us. Pictures of our families cover the walls (children, grandparents, and great- grandparents) along with personal artwork that holds our history, objects on shelves that each tell a story, and pieces of 'us' that hang in the hallway. I love to create spaces for people to feel comfortable and at peace. We don't dream of granite counter tops or luxurious upgrades, we dream of a place where someone can walk in our door and experience a home that is true, earthy, and inspires their own meaningful existence... a place where they can be real... a place that touches their own longing for a home, not just in walls, but the home inside of them. Homes bring healing and this is our dream. Our at home counseling center is a dream that lives deep within us.

We are normal people. No huge tragedy to speak of, struggles with addictions, or death. We are just your normal young family that dreams of living extraordinary lives. I am sure there are other families that need their dream home more than us, more deserving, and have suffered much more. But these are our dreams and our dreams require a dream house. A house that is unique. One with a separate entrance for private counseling, a large family room for group counseling, a kitchen that can hold larger crowds and can prepare bigger meals, an area outside that incorporates nature, a good size eating area inside, a living room that feels separate from the family room (allowing for multiple group counseling sessions to exist at the same time), and our children's rooms upstairs allowing a space for them to feel at home even when others are in their home.

This is our story and our dreams. watching Oprah today was a painful, yet beautiful reminder of who i am and long to be, even when those dreams seem a million miles away. My tears today opened me to the dreams that live so deeply inside of me, so deep that sometimes they feel lost. My 4:00 tears moved me to write this and writing this helped me not let go.

Sincerely,
Anjuli (please build me my dream house!) Paschall

-I am sure there are so many grammar mistakes, but i am just too tired to re-read this painfully long, desperate plea, shot in the dark, letter to Oprah that will never be read by her. To all my blog friends out there- if you read this- bless you and good night :)

tuesday's if onlys

2009-06-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

if only... we had our own home
if only... Manoah would nap
if only... i could be who i want to be
if only... i didn't hide my heart
if only... i could live centered
if only... someone would do my laundry
if only... i was the person i really want to be (yup - this one is a big one)
if only... i could figure out how to use my blue tooth
if only... we had a backyard
if only... i knew how to pray
if only... Lost would be back on TV and never ever end
if only...i remembered how things once were
if only... Sam and i could go to Hawaii
if only... my headache would go away
if only... i could get rid of every yucky feeling inside of me
if only... my hair would grow faster
if only... i could cook
if only... i could stop biting my nails
if only... i wasn't so competitive
if only... i could paint the walls blue
if only... i had an ice cream cake in my freezer
if only... i could re-live my wedding day
if only... i could take back those words i said
if only... i could have said those other words instead
if only... i believed Jesus loved me
if only... i could lose this baby weight
if only... i didn't feel guilty about things i'm not guilty for anymore
if only... i was better at playing with Manoah
if only... i could say what my heart really longs to be spoken
if only... i could teach my husband to read my mind
if only... i could eat pasta for every meal
if only... my tuesday's if only list came true.

Marley and Me.

2009-05-30T15:19:00.000-07:00

Last week i had a baby. a little precious boy about the size of a peanut. i've watched Marley and Me about 100 times since coming home from the hospital and it still makes me cry. maybe it is something in that movie about a couple growing old, having kids, realizing life wasn't panning out the way they expected, and a two year old toddler Manoah- i mean dog named Marley- that doesn't want to obey. I feel tired, my body is in recovery, my house is too small, and i am secretly wondering how i am going to do this when Sam goes back to work in 2 days. and tears fill my eyes because i know i can't in any sort of beautiful way survive life right now on my own. and i guess i've just wanted everything to be done well- to fit into some sort of pretty package and have others admire this mom who has it all together. and how do i be me and a mom and be connected to God and people and my husband and friends and kids? what does a true integrated life look like? and i suppose life just isn't panning out all the ways i imagined it would. i've been in my pjs for a good few days straight and i don't want to change. three things i guess... one- maybe i haven't really embraced what it means to be a mom, two- maybe i am becoming who God wants me to be, three- i love my life- even though it wasn't the way I planned it to be. I guess in some way i am becoming more okay with my messy heart and messy house- yet there is still some serious resistance. so this is a messy blog but i am running on little sleep. i'll end with a quote from my new favorite movie, "life is way better than i planned it- i'm kind of done with planning." - Jenny Grogen.

where have i been?

2009-03-23T22:49:00.001-07:00

To answer that question is a difficult thing... i'm physically still here in my little old home in Escondido and my heart has been- lets just say on a journey. These past few months have been filled with sadness, grieving, and all kinds of joy. A furthering journey into the heart of Jesus' love for me. and although this path can at times be still and confusing, i am present with Jesus as He unfolds the tangles in my insides. I apologize to all who have kept checking here for a post to only see the same words and pictures on the screen. I'll be better :) I've started a photography business Photorange Photography, been growing a baby in my belly, and trying to teach my two year old not to hit, share, and to be nice to doggies. As for projects here are two that i am post here for you today...
Rachel, my dear friend, who put together my photography website charged me next to nothing and an art project in exchange for her work. So i made her a quilt from beautiful Amy Butler fabric. Thanks Rach- love you! check out my photography website!
The ring on tied to the blanket is hand engraved by a fabulous artist i found on Etsy.

and...

Here was my Christmas gift to Sam. Frames filled with our story since getting married almost 4 years ago. I know it is hard to see, but each frame holds the significant events from each year of marriage. My mom gave me good advice which was to keep track of each year of our marriage so that when we are old and have lost our memory we can remember our love story. thanks mom!

Peace, love, and more blogging to come!

small

2008-11-23T09:59:00.000-08:00

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

moving rooms

2008-10-06T16:32:00.001-07:00

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.

2008-08-24T13:31:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-07T13:41:00.000-07:00

(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...

2008-08-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-30T15:26:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

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

happy 4th

2008-07-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-04T09:24:00.000-07:00

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

3 day transformation.

2008-06-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-06-20T22:17:00.001-07:00

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 :)

2008-06-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

my chairs that fell from heaven

2008-06-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-06-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

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

made me cry :)

2008-05-12T11:43:00.001-07:00

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...

2008-05-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-04-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-04-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

"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.

2008-03-23T09:39:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-03-19T17:40:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-03-14T16:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-03-01T22:09:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-02-28T15:40:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-02-18T21:14:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-30T21:52:00.001-08:00

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...

2008-01-03T21:45:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

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.

a walk.

2007-11-30T14:49:00.000-08:00

since having Manoah i have changed. Something in me became deeply lost, confused, and disconnected. I knew a name i had never known or identified with before, mom. The name implies one who nurtures and soothes, one who loves and comforts. I became flooded and lost in my own days, which felt endless, and my nights, which never lasted long enough. I got a job, which i was dispassionate about and worked more for an escape than for a need. I thought of starting a business, which lasted for 2 weeks. I thought of an invention idea, which i spent several wasted hours on the Internet. I started this blog, and another, and another blog- searching endlessly on other blogs to create the perfect blog. My mind wondered and dreamed of moving, of a house, of a better job, or or or anything that wasn't here. i guess it is easiest to say i was lost and trying somehow to find home again.
i went on a walk last week. one in which i felt the courage to face my own lost soul. Manoah had just pooped out his diaper and clothes and now i was walking and praying my heart out load to Jesus. in this walk and in the strangest of ways, Jesus touched me. as i stopped to let manoah crawl around i remember a thought i had while pregnant, "after Manoah is born i want to play tennis again." in response Jesus said to me, "that isn't your life anymore." Tennis, college, dating, grad school, mentoring, teaching, young married, ... all these parts of your life are no longer me. Loving Manoah is sacrificing me for him. I suppose this concept may come easy for others, but for me change is long and hard. i hold, actually grasped onto the past believing that all that is good and right and how things should be - are in the past. I have a hard time believing the the future holds equal if not better good for me. in the oddest, and simplest ways, my heart finally made sense. I had been so resistant to motherhood... to letting go of me and not embracing the newness and the goodness of this present season. would i let go of the past? Would that mean i would lose myself... that somehow motherhood meant losing myself? the answer is easy- yes. Yes i will let go and yes i will sacrifice, but no i will not lose me in the process. i actually believe i might in fact find more of myself that i didn't realize was there before. I suppose the depth of me goes down deeper than anyone can ever imagine. i forget that though. i forget that Jesus made me endless and in every sacrifice there is truly love. and i really love my son. and i want to still play tennis, but that isn't who i am. a mother is not actually who i am . i am beloved.

a little bit more a little bit more.

2007-08-28T18:43:00.000-07:00

So i love Target commercials! I can never get their jingles out of my head. So have another Etsy artist i love. My friend Mindy is having a baby girl (you must check out her blog, she is super talented) and we have searched Etsy looking for perfect baby artwork. I think i found just the 'perfect' that i am looking for. She is an artist out of London and here is some of art that i just love. Please please please look, then buy some of her work! When i have a girl, (someday) she will be my pick.

redo your walls

2007-08-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

wallpaper will not escape my mind. somehow everywhere i go i image what paper i would use and what walls i would redo. i am crazy about this new old fad. there is certainly a part of me that screams "YES!" redo every wall with the most outrageous colors and patterns, but then the rational part of me whispers "moderation." So because we are still renting this beautiful 1930's home i will restrain from covering all the walls with crazy, yet moderate patterns... instead i just live vicariously thru the internet. i found these fantastics prints at Secondhand Rose ... go crazy because i did :)

nice pictures.

2007-08-16T17:35:00.001-07:00

i found a good find on Etsy. i was on the search for something cute and i found "dazeychic." i like her style- simle and sweet. take a look at some of her other illistrations ... love. a.

a cup of tea.

2007-08-13T21:06:00.001-07:00

Tea somehow has a magical way of soothing my soul. A hot cup of tea is one of the first thoughts i have when i wake up. i am sure my mothers love of tea has had a profound impact on my same love for it. She not only perfected the taste of tea, but insisted that tea could only be served in a delicate tea cup (mugs were out of the question). i have recently been on the search for the perfect tea set. I saw these tea pots and cups on the Anthropologie website and loved them. the color green is so warm and inviting and the handles are so creative. this set of tea pot and tea cups are now on my wish list. i can just imagine drinking a cup of chai tea on my deck with a friend.

Decor8 contest.

2007-08-10T10:16:00.000-07:00

i had the most difficult time learning how to make a collage out of four different pictures. Decor8 is having a contest... choosing one piece of stationary and 3 other pictures - making one piece out of the four. this is my poor attempt at making something creative. but i learned something, so i'm content. check out the other entries:

http://decor8.blogspot.com/2007/07/fabulous-stationery-contest.html

inside.

2007-08-10T08:57:00.001-07:00

everytime i open my blog i see my words "i just absolutely love jesus" and my heart wonders if i do, if i truly love jesus. i know for certain i love the gifts of god. i love the peace and love and joy i receive from being in communion with him, but i suppose that my own words search my heart concerning the reality within me that i may not love christ truly if i had not all the gifts. i know my motivations are drenched in pride and my own search for glory. would i, like pete deny my savior if the opportunity arose, or like Job would withstand an endless faith even when all the goods are gone. it makes me sad to see the truth of who i am because i know my love for Christ is so fragile and hinged upon the forms in which i believe he ought to love me. am i on this journey for all my days... that one day i might wake and realize i love Christ for Christ's sake and not just loves sake or the sake of my own? i do find in all my me-ness and this endless need in me to be 'okay' that jesus is gracious, he calls me home, a deep place within my soul. for it is in the darkness that he is most present and he makes his home inside of me.

a summer yummy

2007-08-09T21:22:00.001-07:00

a perfect delight (thanks cooking light magazine!)

fresh plums + goat cheese + basalmic vinegar =

a delicious summer side dish. loved it- hope you do too!

My apron in the picture is from Anthropologie. a fine gift from sister Malina. somehow when i wear i feel like i was made to cook.

vibrant.

2007-08-08T22:12:00.000-07:00

i love the color pink. mostly the vibrant, jumping out of the norm, screaming "look at me i'm alive" pink. i saw these flowers at trader joes and they were a must buy. i recovered a set of these chairs given to me and sam last spring. the experience was a gift. it opened my mind up to the world of reupholstering. next on my wish list is to buy old armchairs and find fantastic fabric and simply go crazy re-doing them into something amazing. One thing at a time (at least thats what sam always says). as for now, here is a taste of what brought me joy today. love. a.

Tuesday at the Market

2007-08-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

Every Tuesday i do my very best to make it down to Grand street for the Escondido Farmers Market. i love the freshness i feel when i am there. the farmers are kind and friendly. just a different experience than vons. i loved the colors of these fruits- they just make me happy.

Adorable.

2007-08-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

i can't help it, i just think Manoah is absolutely adorable. i gave him a bath in the kichen sink while Sam was picking
oranges from our tree outside.

Finished!

2007-08-05T22:20:00.000-07:00

With bloody pooked fingers and endless broken needles, i present to you the bag of all bags. I had great ambitions to start a purse/ bag business and this was the first project i sought to complete. It was painfully difficult and maybe my business dreams have been shattered, but i had some good laughs and bellows of frustration making this piece. I'd like to thank my mom for her blessed patience in helping me with this project. And of course, thanks to my Manoah for modeling this bag for me. So anyone want to buy my first bag (baby not included) ?