My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

15 years. 

So thankful I’ve gotten to hold this hand.

His Hand. 

God has been our rock, our center…and we have been very blessed. 

Now we hold many hands, each a gift from God. Each a reminder of what started when he grabbed my hand 20 years ago. 

Happy Anniversary my love. 

Grace took this picture of me today when I was at our godson Nate’s Lemonade stand. Look close enough and you will see my best friends face. 

Amy. 

Amy was Jonah’s first word, after Mama and Dada…she would sit with him and knock two blocks together until he could say it…”A…my. A..my.” 

We met when we were 16. 

We bonded over Baby Sitter Clubs books, cool t shirts, and how we voluntarily would always be a little different. 

She is the coolest person I know. There is no one I know that even touches on the immense  coolness factor she creates. 

The most giving. Even when people take and take, she will continue to give openly and freely. 

She is so appreciative. Of people. Of others. 

She is so brave. She got sober almost 14 years ago…and she never looked back. I stand in awe always and forever of that. The day she changed the course of her life with courage. 

She has about a million BFF’s…but it’s because everyone wants to be her friend. Everyone. 

I love the way she bounces when she walks, when her hair is curly and messy in a bun, with her maxi skirt and flip flops. I love the way her eyes smile. And I love the way she laughs. 

When I saw this picture and I looked closer I saw my laugh lines, I’m so proud of them. Amy has contributed to so many happy days of my life. And big days…She was the first person to know I was pregnant with Daniel(Dyp was on duty). She is the only person I’ve ever flashed my boob at during a water aerobics class. She has farted on me. We have laughed so hard we’ve peed our pants. She was the one who came to my house after we lost Mary and helped me pack away all my baby stuff and all my maternity things…and then brought me clothes to the hospital when I was in labor on the saddest day of my life. She danced with me at my wedding on her birthday, and I danced with her on hers. She always prays for me. Always. 

I am so thankful for her. So so thankful…

If you ever meet her you’ll want to be her friend…you’ll think she’s funny, charismatic, and you’ll want to buy anything she’s selling. But look closer and you will see one of the most radiant people you will ever meet. 

Happy (almost) Birthday Amy. Thank you for being in my life. 

You want to know what it’s like to have three sons? 

  
There you go. 

Life. Happens. 

And once in a while you realize your kids have been documenting the little things…

  
Grace took this picture of Jonah making her a sandwich. But seriously?! Who is that huge person? When did he become all tall and stuff, and teenager looking??? 

After she documented his act of service…she took a selfie(or10), 

Then Daniel made a Virgin Mary on his finger…
  

And Micah got really into his lipsync solo. I mean really. 

Lately I’ve had the strong urge to remember all these little things because they really are the big things to me…a brother helping his little sister. A little sister capturing it and then giving her Mona Lisa one dimpled look with her messy hair. A child who is always himself and so creative. And the reminder to dance and lip sync and give it your all…every single time. 

Every single day we have a chance to get into life…really into it. 

The little things. The big things. The real things. 

Life Happens. Really. 

(joyful mysteries note: I met Meredith at a retreat I spoke at. She was everything I like in a person- kind, real, creative. Her Real has been an absolute game of trust, and I am amazed at how brave she is. She has the best smile and she is incredibly intune to who God is calling her to be. I am grateful for the gift of her words and real today…also today is her birthday- Happy Birthday beautiful Meredith.) 

Peaches. 

I am up to my elbows in peaches.
We live near the Harry & David peach orchards, and every year they host “Peachapalooza”, where they sell their seconds to the locals for twenty cents a pound. It’s a crazy, wonderful day—hundreds of people gather bright and early in the parking lot, where they have crates upon crates of peaches. Then, at 7am they yell “Go!” and everyone runs to the crates and fills up their boxes of peaches. The limit is 200 pounds per person, and plenty of people hit the limit for each person in their family, including the infants. This year, we took home 150 pounds, which is more than we’ve ever ended up with before, and seems like a deceptively small amount while they’re packed neatly in boxes and sitting on a wagon.

Let me tell you though, four days later…150 pounds doesn’t feel like such a small amount. I’ve made freezer jam. I’ve made peach margaritas. I’ve dehydrated peaches. I’ve frozen peaches for smoothies. I’ve made fruit leather (I’ve done it successfully before, but this year it failed). I plan to make cobblers and bread and my grandma’s peach-almond pie.

Yesterday though, I decided to try to can peaches, because I know my husband likes them. I have canning equipment from my mom and grandma, but have never done it before because frankly, botulism scares the shit out of me. But for some reason, yesterday I decided to give it a go—all by myself, on a day when my kiddos were particularly crazy. Of course.

Four hours later, every part of my body was covered in peach juice. My fingers were so wrinkled that they looked like I’d been in the shower for hours. My youngest daughter Becca was screaming that she was ‘too tired for a nap’ while at one point my oldest daughter asked me what “T-E-Q-U-I-L-A” spelled. A jar inexplicably exploded (but did not break) while in the canner, and peaches were floating everywhere. Literally every surface of my kitchen was sticky. Finally, the last batch was done, and it was time to clean up, make dinner to eat in the car, and run off to t-ball.

Our sink has one of those hose sprayers that you can pull out, and I’d been using to help wash out the various bowls, pots, pans, and utensils that you end up needing to can. It had worked fine all day yesterday, but when I went to use it for the last time, I could NOT get the sucker to come out. I pulled. I pulled harder. I slammed the sucker back down and tried to pull again. I just kept pulling and pulling, and swearing up a storm, but nothing was working. Finally, it occurred to me to wash my hands, open the cabinet under the sink, and take a look. The hose was wrapped around something, and it was stuck. It just needed to be unwrapped.

And if that isn’t an illustration for my life, I’m not sure what is.

Anxiety is something that I’ve struggled with for a while, but for a long time I didn’t know what it was called. Once I realized that there was a name for what I felt like, and I met with my doctor and created a self-care plan (and actually followed that self-care plan), it was better for a long time. Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Around late-spring of last year, my anxiety felt pretty out of control. I went to the Mom’s Retreat where I met Kristin, and I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest the entire time, because I wasn’t with my husband and daughters, and without me there to be vigilantly watching, they weren’t safe and would probably all die. I hadn’t been following my self-care plan very well, so a few months later, I started doing the things that are important, for me, to keep anxiety at bay. And it helped some, but not as much as I remembered it helping the first time around.

Months later, in a really scary series of events, we found out that I had a giant thyroid tumor, along with a genetic mutation that predisposed me to thyroid cancer. The biopsy showed that the tumor was likely benign, but because I’d previously had a different form of cancer, the immediate recommendation was surgery to remove either half of my thyroid or my entire thyroid, depending on what it looked like during surgery.

The next few months until the surgery were a constant battle against anxiety. I worked hard at implementing all aspects of my self-care plan, daily. The fellow moms that I met with weekly for Bible Study were huge blessings in that way—praying for me constantly, checking in with me, not letting me isolate myself and shutdown.

But I was still—secretly—a little mad at God. How could he let me go through this again?! WHY?! What could possibly be gained from another surgery, more medical bills, and possibly another cancer diagnosis?!

I woke up from the thyroid surgery, and felt warm for the first time that I can remember in my adult life. I also didn’t have an elephant sitting on my chest. I kept waiting for that elephant on my chest to come back, and for me to resume the daily battle with anxiety, but five months later, it still hasn’t.

I didn’t know it at the time, but later learned from my endocrinologist that your thyroid is hugely influential when it comes to anxiety. The tumor that was sitting on my thyroid must have been depressing my thyroid function, and we just didn’t realize it because my levels were still all considered “normal”. Now, the half a thyroid that I have left is functioning better than my whole thyroid was before, and I feel like a completely different person, in every way. It was like God reached into that cabinet under my sink and untangled something that I hadn’t even realized was stuck until He un-stuck it. And I am so thankful.

   
    
 
I’m Meredith. I’m a wife to Justin, Mom to Lizzy and Becca, Lutheran, Native Oregonian, photographer, aspiring cook, and big time lover of books. 

I like Bones. Non-fat Caramel Lattes. Purple Iris’s. Phillipians 4:6. Cherry Coke. Top Chef. Justin playing the guitar. My Family. Knitting. Chicken Piccata. Wakeboarding. The Ocean. “Mumford and Sons.” Turquoise. Matt Maher…to name a few. Learn more about Meredith at her blog… http://www.vivalabuenavida.blogspot.com

(Joyful mysteries note: please tune in tomorrow for our guest post.) 

Curly. Miker. Grandma. MJ. Muscles.       Marty. The Micah-phone. Micah. 

In a space between despair and hope…you came into our world. 

I held your small olive hand and stared into your newborn baby eyes and I knew…we’d be okay. 

You are all boy, and all sugar. You hide from the spotlight but it finds you. You are too sweet, too witty, and too incredible for it not to.

You still fall asleep wherever you go, and watching your joy playing baseball as your curls curve over your hat, or seeing you laugh with your whole soul are images I’ve captured and wound tight against my heart. 

In a space between despair and hope…you came into our world. And for the past nine years I have loved and cherished  the gift you are to us from God. 

Your life is Such a gift. 

Happy Birthday Micah Jeremy. 

She is, and will always be the funniest woman in Comedy. She was the reason I went into acting. She’s the reason I’m not afraid of how unattractive I am when I laugh, because it feels better to laugh than be worry about being pretty. 

I love Carol Burnett. She is gracious, in the best way. Talented, in a humble way. And allows other people to use their gifts and works with them. I want to be just like her. 

“I’m really not that funny in real life. But I’m the best audience one could find. I love to laugh.” -Carol Burnett 

I know this isn’t profound or insightful. But my real is I’m exhausted. I didn’t even really want to share this…The past two years my health has been incredibly precarious as I’ve dealt with unexplained extreme fatigue and weight gain. I’ve seen good doctors and a doctor who gave really bad advice. I cannot even begin to explain the attack this all has had on my self worth. 

An attack I’ve allowed. Over and over. 

But this morning started off with more blood tests after some serious fasting.  I am under the care for the first time in a long time with people who believe me, who hear me. We already have had some answers and explainations(incessant ice chewing +constant bruising=anemia). I am even going all Hippy and seeing a naturopath as well. And I am so grateful for that.  Because for a long time I became afraid of telling someone that something didn’t feel right, because I was afraid they wouldn’t hear me. Because they hadn’t in the past. 

But…

I don’t want to be exhausted all the time anymore. Or freezing in the summer. I want to fit into my clothes. And I don’t want to be so tired. 

And it’s scary to write this. Because as “real” as this is it has consumed too much time and I feel a helpless. Really helpless. 

But I’m working from the inside out. The past year I’ve worked so hard from my heart out- and I’m praying that God gives answers. 

And then I saw this picture. My favorite “Carol Burnett” sketch…where she is Scarlet O’Hara and makes her dress out of the curtains and I laughed. 

Because laughing feels good. And it’s good for my selfworth. On days like today where I’m exhausted, where my parenting is pancakes and watermelon(what we had for dinner) and I’m wearing my sweatshirt outside watching my kids ride scooters wondering if I can wait another day to do laundry…because they don’t fight as much when we’re outside. 

So maybe we’ll wait on laundry, 

Or maybe we can just wear curtains…

What I love most in the World is God. I don’t know if other people are like that, like I am. I just want to serve God so much. 

I want to meet the Pope someday. 

I’m excited for Middle School, but I’m afraid I’ll get lost because it’s so big. 

It makes me happy when people are nice, and when I’m with my friends and family. It makes me mad when I ask people to stop doing something and they keep doing it(Grace). I love close competitions but I love hanging out with my friends more. I love soccer, baseball, altar serving, and to dance. And I love just messing around. 

 I met my best friend Britt in first grade- I like him because he’s nice, athletic, funny, he commits to what he does and we both love God. My other best friend is my brother Jonah, he’s so funny, he loves God, he’s smart and athletic, and he likes to hang out with me and is never afraid to try new things. 

I used to want to be vegetarian but I like hamburgers too much.  I could eat the Bigfoot sushi burrito and macaroni and cheese everyday. 

I’ve gotten in three fights because I was sticking up for people. I will always stick up for people I love. And especially my faith. 

I love Pugs. And I want a Pug named Puggy Pio, after Padre Pio. 

My name is Daniel, and that’s just who I am. 

Yeah I get it.

You don’t feel comfortable. You don’t have the clothes. Your clothes don’t fit right anymore.

You’re too sensitive. You’re too hardened. You’re too extroverted. You’re too shy. You’re too…you.

Yeah I get it.

You said too much. You screwed up. You cried. You were all the parts of yourself that you try so hard to conceal. All the scars and the shades.

You aren’t perfect or pretty enough. Your head wasn’t high enough. The stress shows on your shoulders and you can’t seem to stop thinking about it all.

Yeah I get it.

You’ve got bills and worries. You’ve got doctors and no answers. You’ve got weeds mixed with grass. It’s too hot to workout, your coffee is cold, and you ate the potato chips.

You don’t really fit in like you used to.

But you don’t really want to anymore.

And that scares you.

I get it.

Because I’m right there with you.

I’ve been there. I’ve done that…once, twice, and repeat.

But that’s not our whole story. We can’t keep thinking that every time we have a good day that’s the fleeting moment. We just have to grab tighter to the good ones.

I remember the first time a Sunday was good- after almost a year of Sunday’s where I was drowning, holding my breath-under cloudy water- ears plugged- heart pounding…but then the next Sunday was good. And I decided that I’d grab Sunday’s and I would love them.

I would love the sunlight waking me up. That I would love the busy getting ready for church.  That I would even love the kids arguing, because that meant that I had a houseful. That I would cherish that I had to help one of them find socks, even if they were in their drawer right where they always are, because I was needed.  That I would love being the last one ready and out, thankful that my love always gets them in the car so I can have a minute to get ready alone. Thankful that we can sit together, and pray together, and be together…and I can hear the music- and listen to the Word, and that my kids know God…loves them. And when I clung to that…that joy, that want, suddenly Sunday was different.

But so was I.

Because I was happy in the right here. Right now.

Not looking to when life will be easier and less lifelike, but Life right now. Because the answers aren’t necessarily in the right here, but you are.

Because life shouldn’t be just about looking forward to all of the things coming up, or waiting for life to get easier. Life should be about seeing the right here- and being right there.

You won’t love every minute of it.

But when you’re not focusing on finding a spouse, fitting into a size, looking at all the other lives that have less weeds, and less junk mail…you can be busy living your life.

Not a perfect life, but a lived life.

Yeah, I get it.

This morning I woke up, and I thought about today’s post. And I thought of all the reasons you don’t want to read what I write. All the reasons I’m not good enough to even have this blog. I thought about every thing I lack. I thought about my flaws, and wondered when I will measure up…but then I remembered this Revolution of Real wasn’t my idea. This was all God. And he has my life in mind…he knows my real.

And my Real is in right Now.

And God has called me to this…

Yeah.

I get it. Because I’m too me.  And so today, I almost didn’t write.

But I looked around.

I grabbed the good stuff. The right now.

And I began to write about a life I’m living.

And here you are…

Look around. You are Here.

Right here. Right now.

Live.

“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make everyday. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves to be seen.” – Brene Brown 

I longed my whole life to be seen, but it wasn’t until I became real that I started to really see.