On Belonging

I was talking to an out-of-town friend recently about whether she's enjoying life where she lives. She said it's been hard to feel like she fits in, that she yearns for community.

It got me thinking. Some things never change with us girls. I've determined that seventh grade lives on in all of us to one degree or another. Sure, we've moved beyond zippered Guess jeans and permed side-ponytails, but the issues are basically the same.

I've also determined that there's a difference between fitting in and belonging.

Fitting in connotes a blending in, a certain amount of conformity, being like those around you. Belonging is quite different. We belong to our families, for example, but we can be wildly different from our siblings or parents. We belong to all sorts of groups and sub-communities but it doesn't mean we're like everyone else there.

The truth is: We may not fit in where we belong.

And if given a choice between fitting in and belonging, I'll choose the latter.

But it hasn't always been that way...

Often wondering if I was something of a misfit, I've struggled to fit in. Sure, I could make friends and navigate social waters easily enough but on the inside, I felt misunderstood, different.

In the past I've overemphasized certain commonalities with others that are actually secondary at best. And when I couldn't find the common, I strived to be someone I wasn't and it always felt like work.

At 37, I'm learning a lot about how God made me, thanks to some divinely-appointed guidance along the way. I may never fit in but I don't feel weird or sad about it; I've made peace with different.

Another friend who recently moved is trying to make peace with location and I wonder how many of us are in that boat with her. For 8 years I've lived in this area. I'm sort of an urban girl at heart, yet I can see cows from my backyard and I drive by a few Confederate flags on my way to Wal-Mart.

Also? I'm not a football fan. At this point, 90% of my local readers will disown me. That's because the adjacent college town is known far and wide for football. The world stops spinning once the tailgates fold down in the fall. So you see, I've struggled to fit in here.

Oh the fretting and negotiating that's taken place between this fussy girl and her patient God. Yet He has been nothing but loving toward my picky self. He has tenderly shown me that this is where I belong. He brought us here.

Slowly, I'm learning to trust His sovereignty. And honestly, I would be sad to leave now. God has gifted me with a kaleidoscope of people over the past 8 years. I would have seriously missed out if I'd focused solely on the fitting in part.

Maybe you feel the same way, trying to make peace with where you've been placed or feeling like a misfit. And if you do, I hereby give you permission to let go.

Quit striving to fit in and embrace the freedom to belong...

Somebody may need just the sort of different you'll bring to the table.

Do You See What I See?

Cupcake and I cozied up to the kitchen table after his nap yesterday. He sniffed out the chocolate I'd already been munching on while he slept and I felt guilty for not sharing. I knew a post-nap treat would delight him to no end.

As we chatted and nibbled on frosted brownies, he waved confidently and intentionally to someone outside. I stared through the big bay window but saw no one.

Who are you waving at? I asked

The trees, he replied.

I stared again through the window and beheld what I hadn't noticed five seconds prior: waving trees.

Sure enough, a warm southern breeze was rippling through the air and the tall pines and oaks that line the back of our property were bending and bowing and well, waving.

I just didn't have the capacity to see it at first.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: the eyes have it.

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Unwrapped with Emily {Chatting at the Sky}

Gratitude

I've had A Holy Experience delivered to my inbox for quite some time now. Something about Ann's writing redirects my often muddled perspective back to the sacred ordinary. And every post is poetry, pure and simple. She has a gift. I'm so thankful she shares it with the rest of us.

Each Monday she makes a gratitude list. Today, on a random Monday, I have decided to join in. I've always been prone to dwell on the have not rather than the have. Practicing gratitude doesn't come naturally...but when it does come, perspective shifts. I am kinder, more content, more apt to see the beauty in the everyday and the blessings just waiting to be gathered up.

So here it goes...

1. breezy, low-humidity July day, a welcome respite for us southern folk

2. neighbors

3. room enough for us all in our cozy home

4. sweet tea in the afternoon

5. hot pink, which {hopefully temporarily} boldly streaks my daughter's hair today

6. a sweaty morning run with my friend and running partner, followed by Starbucks

7. The Prodigal God by Tim Keller. The message will change you.

8. My husband's precious grandfather who went to be with Jesus Friday night. We'll never know how many prayers he offered up on our behalf.

9. a husband who continues to love me even though I am prone to muttering and moodiness

10. the backyard "golf course" where I'm watching the boy play as I type these words

11. my camera and lens and the generous one who gifted both

12. local peaches and blueberries

13. the Cross

Ann said it perfectly today:

If you've made it to the Cross -- then no matter what's up ahead, the hardest part of life, it's falling there back behind you... Whatever today holds --- Jesus came. We're living in the reign of Grace!

I can just see you now.

Taking a deep breath... and smiling the whole long day.

What are you grateful for? Go on, make a list in your head or jot it on a post-it for your fridge. A smile is sure to follow.

Michigan Love

We just returned from Michigan, birthplace of my beloved husband. Over the years it has become a beloved place for the children and me as well, southern-born though we are. For us, Michigan represents rest and beauty and family.

It also represents junk food hedonism. I consume my year's quota of potato chips and soda in one week. Sadly, the junk food detox has begun and I have nursed a headache for 72 hours. I could silence the pounding with more Dr. Pepper and a full-size bag of Doritos but then I wouldn't have next year's hedonism to anticipate.

Before we left, I asked Blondie what she was most looking forward to. She couldn't name just one thing. She said, staying up late with cousins and getting a can of soda out of the cooler on the beach when it's hot and catching turtles...

As her list continued, I realized that for all of us, Michigan vacation is really just a bunch of little things that all add up to one big anticipated summer tradition of fun and memories with those we love.

Somehow a tiny lake and hundred-year-old family homestead pull all of us in like a magnet from Michigan, Minneapolis, Chicago, Indianapolis, South Carolina, and California. For a week we catch up on the past year and marvel at how one another's kids have grown up in such a short time.

Cousin Phil puts on the biggest family fireworks display you've ever seen while the kids wear glow necklaces and eat s'mores and become drowsy by the glow of the campfire and the eventual ebb of the sugar high.

Every year we return to our own house and I am sad for the better part of a week, torn between two locales that both feel like home.

There are certain places that settle firm into your heart and take up residence when you're not aware...soul places. If the Maker has truly set eternity in our hearts, soul places surely must be temporal spots here on earth that point us to a glorious final destination.

The Michigan homestead is a soul place for me.

My hope is that Heaven has a dock and a spring-fed blue lake and most importantly, the presence of those I love so dearly.

Calorie-free potato chips wouldn't hurt either.

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More photos

{because I took 300 and

simply must share a few}:

Our family. Hard to believe I've been part of this gang for nearly 15 years...

Brownie goes kayaking...

And you all know this pictorial buffet would not be complete without the Cupcake. He fell fast in love with Orange Crush, evidenced by the smeared, syrupy neon stain around his mouth.

If you look closely you can still see it. I nearly scrubbed his lips off trying get him clean for pictures.

Until next year...

Productive Procrastination

I have a strange habit of starting unnecessary projects right before a trip.

Something about the loathsome task of packing creates an uncontrollable urge to clean out closets or wax my upper lip. Thirty-six hours before vacation, I feel strangely justified in completing projects I could have done months ago.

This irrational and familiar pre-trip pattern annoys my husband to no end as he patiently asks:

Are you packing or organizing?

What does the label maker have to do with our trip?

Why are you painting the trim?

The simple answer is, I don't know. Also? Why am I most productive when it's most inconvenient? Why do the urges never visit first thing on a Monday morning of any given week?

Maybe the solution is to stay in a perpetual state of travel until my house is the way I want it. Travel. Unpack. Get ready for another trip. Clean out the garage the night before. Repeat.

If I could bottle productive procrastination, I would be rich.

Does anyone else have this bizarre disorder?

Aargh Mateys!

She needed one hoop earring and a striped shirt. He asked if I had any eye-patches. The other He just wore whatever they draped him with and jumped up and down with delight.

It's all part of a funny phenomenon that's been unfolding after dinner lately, a creative camaraderie with a rather odd cast of characters...

A bossy but benevolent 9-year-old...

A compliant and creative 6-year-old...

And a 2-year-old who does everything the big kids do with spunk and unbridled enthusiasm.

Somehow they all find common ground in the magical land of make-believe. Stay here for long after supper-time and you might find yourself aboard a pirate ship made of bed-sheets and kid chairs.

I don't know what's inspiring them so. Maybe it's the freedom of summer or the sweltering Southern heat gone to their heads or the contentment brought about by full tummies and a day of sun-drenched play.

And while I do love my role as mommy bystander, watching them play makes me wish I could travel back in time and join them as a fellow kid. If they tried to include me now, I would just be the clunky and awkward grown-up who wrecks up the ship because my head and body are, well, grown-up size.

I didn't say "no" as they foraged through the attic for pirate clothes and strapped patches over their eyes with construction paper and band-aids. I tried to play it cool as they made swords from vacuum cleaner attachments and drew elaborate treasure maps with markers that left smears on the kitchen table.

Ordinary household junk magically morphed into perfect pirate gear. I just watched and eavesdropped and marveled.

Apparently I wandered from wonder long ago...

But three makeshift pirates have a way of leading me back home.

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Linked with Tuesdays Unwrapped {Chatting at the Sky}

Because Sometimes a Lens Isn't Just a Lens...

The camera fairy recently gifted me with a new lens for my birthday. I was surprised and elated beyond measure. Of all the things I have {not-so-secretly} longed for, this was it.

This simple and uncomplicated little lens does something my standard lens doesn't do so well: it blurs the background. Photographers call it "bokeh."

I call it beautiful.

For someone who thinks about a million different things at once, focusing on a singular subject while all of the rest blends into a blurry calm is so very soothing...

I call it lens therapy.

There's something about this lens that captures the ordinary and makes you marvel at its beauty.

Here are a few of my recent therapeutic moments.

{My niece, Cora, and a rare moment of stillness...}

{This makes me miss my sister. I got to see her recently and we drank a lot of these and ate nearly two rounds of Brie in just two days. Heaven.}

{Brownie}

{And finally we have a very sweet and delicious, albeit messy, Cupcake...}

{I've decided his hair is the swirly frosting.}

{And in case you're wondering, the lens is a Canon EF 50mm f/1.8 II.}

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Linked up with Tuesdays Unwrapped {Chatting at the Sky}

The Eyes Have It

My eyes saw a spray paint lid, a ponytail holder, and a handful of weeds.

Her nine-year-old eyes saw an artful, diminutive arrangement of beauty.

I like her eyes better.

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Linked up with Tuesdays Unwrapped {Chatting at the Sky.}

The Great Summer Spruce-Up

{I apologize in advance for the glarey photos...I am too impatient to wait for better light.}

We finished school a week and a half ago. As my reward for teaching a kindergardener and third-grader at home while keeping a two-year-old from eating cake-scented candles {which he did while I completed this project}, I set about the important business of some long-overdue cleaning redecorating.

Mine is not a house blog but sometimes I want it to be. Seeing as how there are no blog police to handcuff me if I digress from my usual randomness concerning kids and personality tests and birds' nests on my front door, I am going to live on the edge and show you pictures of my newly-remodeled-for-summer hutch.

This first summer spruce-up project just so happened to coincide with a "collections" linky party hosted by none other than The Nester. I think she's totally right about home accessories; complimentary or similar items can work their decorative magic so much better when grouped together. No need to be one of those martyr accessories and stand alone.

I am not a decorator in real-life but I sometimes play one at home. So a few mornings ago, I cleaned out the contents of my rehabbed hutch, grabbed an armful of white stuff from my stash o' junk in the attic, and strapped the hot glue gun in its holster.

As much as I loved the sweetness of Blondie's tea-sets snuggled up alongside mine on the shelves, it was just not the look I was going for long-term. Besides, she's getting her own room this summer and I promised her a little place of her own for tchotchkes.

The top shelf is a tea and coffee set that my parents brought back to me from Germany ten years ago.

It's very sentimental and very lovely and until I put it in the hutch, very unused. In fact, I bought this thrift-store hutch with that tea set in mind. Now it finally has a place to shine and I do, in fact, sip coffee from those cups.

The rest is just a collection of dishes and frames and stuff from nature that I played around with until it looked nice. Those little mini cake-stands are thrift-store candlesticks with white plates hot-glued glued to the top. And while I would love to have mini-cakes on those mini-stands all the time, sea shells and sparkles are more practical and less fattening.

I took The Nester's advice {from one of her posts a while back} and framed up some little trickets to mix in with the stands and shells. Old frames, scrapbook paper, and hot glue...that's it. You can frame a baby spoon, a piece of jewelry, your two-year old, whatever suits you.

The whole collection is sort of summery and beachy and a little bit French, which just so happens to be my favorite blend of pretty. And it didn't cost a dime. Ooh-la-la!

As much as I love diagramming sentences and long division, 180 days of staring at numbers and helping verbs will make a girl crazy for a bit of freshening up at home.

So stay tuned...I have a feeling there's more to come.

Now hop on over to The Nester's Party!

Right, Left, or Middle?

A 20-question magazine quiz recently brought about some all-too-familiar over-thinking. You'll be happy to know it wasn't about choosing a loyal BFF or whether one is attracted to bad boys versus the straight-laced sort. My magazine quizzes these days are decidedly more grown-up. Thank goodness.

The June issue of Real Simple featured "Organizing for your Personality." A brief quiz reveals whether one is left-brained, "those who think in words (attention, list makers!), do a lot of advance planning, or approach challenges in a rational, linear way" OR right-brained, those who "are visually oriented," who "tend to think in images rather than words, focus on the big picture rather than the details, and go through life in a somewhat seat-of-the-pants (a.k.a. scattered) way."

Before I do the big reveal, a bit of background...

I have long tried to reconcile my affinity for lists and label makers with my penchant for spontaneity and creativity. How is it that I can plan weddings or as one of my professors stated on a reference, "run a small country" yet not get a kid to soccer practice on time or banish the never-ending clutter?

Why can I not read a map? If someone gives me directions, it needs to be in list-form {turn left here, go 1/4 of a mile and turn right on this street.}

My light switches are labeled...

Yet I've chosen to write this blog post instead of tackling the dishes.

My baskets are organized {and yes, labeled.}

And alphabetical order makes my heart race {in a good way}...

Yet daily I do battle with the spontaneous, haphazard, absent-minded, and creative urges that thwart my Type-A ways and good intentions.

I feel as if my brain, not knowing whether to go right or left, could use some direction, a concrete label to give it an identity....which is why I took the quiz.

The truth of the matter is, I'm somewhere in the middle. Shocker. My score revealed 5 points for left-brained and 3 points for right. Funny how a simple quiz confirms what I already knew but am still reluctant to embrace. It seems easier to be one or the other.

Free-spirited artist types probably don't lament their inability to live life in a linear, labeled way. Likewise, the Type-A sorts likely don't go through their organized, matching, alphabetized existence and wish they could fly by the seats of their pants a little more.

This isn't the first of my personality inventories that defies solid categorization. My Myers-Briggs shows that I am smack in the middle of E and I...which is where I sit in the other sections as well. While some would say I'm balanced, I simply feel confused and fragmented, torn between two seemingly disparate selves.

E.E. Cummings wrote,

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.

Or in the words of my mom, a wise advice-giver in her own right,

You be you.

Easier said than done.

I'm sure the editors of Real Simple never intended their little quiz to result in such existential musings, but it helped me realize that living from a place of authenticity isn't easy for most of us, especially when we tend to inhabit a middle kingdom. For someone with an affinity for label makers, the inability to label or categorize oneself is, well, disconcerting.

Much like my kitchen, this isn't one of those posts that has a neat and tidy ending.

The journey towards the true self is just that, a journey.

And it's probably best to leave the label maker at home.

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So I'm curious, which direction does your brain go?