Photographs by Anjuli

fix.

i saw it coming a ways off. the way you see brake lights forming like a chain reaction coming at you from a mile away and before you know it, everything comes to a stop. by the time sam got home from work, i was done. really done. i laid on my back, one hand holding in Noelle’s pacifier as she screamed in her swing, while also holding off my boys who came at me like wild animals begging for food, tv, and a basketball game rematch. the day slowly went downhill after our play date and my back (hurt from bouncing my baby) and heart felt like mush. sam came home, released noelle from her prison, i mean swing, held her in one arm and played basketball with the boys with his other. i laid on the ground for another 30 minutes.

he put the kids to bed and i sat by the fire, he came out and asked what i wanted to do the rest of the evening. i wanted to go to sleep. it was 9:00. i didn’t want to talk about anything. didn’t want chocolate or even another episode of friday night lights. i was just so.tired. he nodded and starting shutting down the house. locking doors, closing windows, and i crawled into bed. i didn’t want to cry or talk or do the dishes. i just felt like the day needed to be done.

when we first got married this scenario would have gone much differently. i would have tried to explain the mushiness and you would have tried to fix me. i would tell you how hard the day was and you would try to make it all better by saying or doing something. you would instruct me on how i could do things differently or provide a solution or new formula that would inevitably produce a different outcome. i would get frustrated because i wouldn’t want to be fixed and you would be frustrated because you couldn’t fix me, change me, or make it all go away. we would go to bed, backs turned against each other, leaving a great divide between us. but today was different than 6 years ago. i guess we’ve grown a bit.

instead, you came to bed, turned off the light and asked if you could read to me. you knew i didn’t want to deal with the frustrations and failings of my day. you knew i just needed someone to be with. you read out of the book of Mark. you read about Jesus and the way He came to give life, hope, and love. you read how Jesus healed the paralytic. the story about how four friends broke open a rooftop and dropped their sick friend down to Jesus to be made clean and He did just that, made him clean. i thought about how often you have been that kind of friend to me. the kind that makes a way for me to see Christ when i am unable to see Him myself. i asked you to keep reading and i remembered how reading the Bible used to make me feel guilty, but being here with you, reading to me and wrapped in your arms, made me feel warm. and i fell asleep with my heart still fractured and unfixed. but you’ve learned to stop trying to fix me because fixing used to be about what you could do. and you’ve learned that fixing isn’t about doing. because people aren’t like cars or sinks that can be put back together with new tires and a wrench. people get fixed by a deep presence. a deep abiding love.

p.s.  even while a slew of our friends are heading out to party at Pizza Port for valentine’s day, i’ll be happy sharing a booth with you at Applebees (using our gift card from 4 yrs ago) … you and all the other 15 year olds on their first date.  happy v-day babe.

is it just me or does he look like he just walked off the cover of a j.crew magazine. common now.

last day to vote for my photograph to be on the cover of a bridal magazine: click here. THANKS!

the little things.

i debated long and hard over this purchase. in fact i walked around that deviously placed pyramid of mouth-watering-chocolates at Sprouts at least 3 times before i successfully walked away. stores are smart. they create a gorgeous display of all the goodies right smack in the front of their store. there is no way to avoid this fierce tower of power that greets you head on when those automatic doors swing open.  i had overcome my temptation, or had i. there i was checking out with my basket full of groceries and i paused. i asked the clerk to wait. i ran back to the mound of chocolate heaven and snatched the tiny box of chocolate mints. with all of my resistance and fortitude, i had lost and sprouts had won. the clerk chuckled when i threw them onto the conveyor belt, i brushed it off with a rushed excuse about nursing and sugar and something about how i deserve a little treat for myself. $5.09 was added to my final bill and i began scheming about where and how i was going to hide these from my kids and husband.

where my $5.09 went:

bribing, (yes, i bribe, i mean, reward my kids with candy. go ahead judge me, i deserve it) my kids to stay in bed.

hiding, in the pantry for a much needed time-out after a disastrous trip to the park (3 kids pooping at the same time requiring 4 diaper changes, a pair of under ware trashed, 4 outfit changes (including mine), a bath, a million wipes, and cleaning poop off of our carpet)

convincing, my friend, sara, to stop by and forgo her trip to target because i had her favorite chocolate here and i needed a real adult conversation

devouring, with krissa while our five kids ran wild and we made dinner and the little ones had a dance party.

crying & laughing, with my husband and his sister, as we sat counter top high in the kitchen, sipping on mojitos at midnight last night.

it’s the little things that make life a little more special. isn’t it?

this year.

dear friend,

happy birthday. you may wake up today and feel a sadness instead of joy. this year may be one of those that you rather forget. you’ve lost, you’ve fought,  and you’ve battled some pretty painful demons this year. and on this day, your 32nd birthday, you may feel that this year has fought all the fight out of you. it has been endless, this year for you, endless. too many tears cried and too few hands to hold them. too much loss and too little hope. too many nights alone with fears racing in the darkness and much too little light bringing the goodness of a new day. a lot to be hated and  much you still hate.

i wish i could tell you that year 32 will be a better year and that all that was lost will be restored. i wish you knew how much and how many love you. i wish you knew that this year won’t be forever, but that you will carry on. that the waves of pain will move you into a new season. today is not your forever. i wish you knew that even on the days you feel like a bad mom,  you are actually an amazing mom. amazing because you are there, you are loving, you are holding, and you are teaching those little people that you aren’t ever.going.to.leave.them. i wish you knew that the sting of loneliness inside your chest won’t become a cell, but will become for you a womb. a carved out space  for you to rest with the One who breathed life, hope, and purpose into your soul 32 years ago.

happy birthday dear friend. i see in you a strength that is humble and a heart that is honest. the roots of your courage reach down deep into the core of your being. though crises comes you never sway from truth, faithfulness, and integrity. i see in you a beauty that has awoken in the face of hardship. a beauty that is resilience, confidence, and steadfastness. i see you and i hear you.

happy birthday.

p.s. you make the most incredible scrubs, most delicious spaghetti sauce, and make me laugh harder than any other human being on the planet.

p.p.s.  i’m sorry i couldn’t get tim riggins to come to your birthday party. i’ll try again next year