Stepping in to Lent

In 2013, same as the four previous years, I worked at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  As most of you know, that was a life-changing experience for me.  I still keep my identification tags from that day, hanging on the coat-rack near our door, as a reminder of that day and all the memories and emotions it held - as a reminder of how beautiful life is - how frail it can be - and to choose love not fear any time I have that choice.

Recently, my oldest son, S, has discovered those ID tags, and loves to wear them around the house.  He knows nothing of the memories that they hold - he was only three months old at the time, and thankfully home with daddy.  But watching him wear them around the house - gleefully and playfully enjoying a new toy (under watchful eye, don't worry) - has reminded me on a daily basis of the ways in which God takes what is broken, raw and exposed, and fear-filled, and weaves hope and life and redemption throughout.  The ways in which the grip of fear has been and is being loosened, and new life is seeping out - in me and in others.  And it is a good and beautiful thing.

God loves us far too much to leave us as we are.

And he takes even that which represents death and fear to us and in us, and truly is death and fear, and brings new life, hope and redemption.

And constantly invites us to step closer and let Him be at work.

For me, Lent, or the 40 days leading up to Easter, starting today, is one of those seasons where I join with millions of others in history and present time, to intentionally step back and ask God to prepare me to receive new life, hope and redemption.  Where I consider earnestly - what might be the places in which He wants me to grow - and what practices might I be able to put into place to give Him space to do that - to remove distractions, or to add practices, so that ultimately, I can hear Him more clearly, and be shaped and stretched in the ways that he wants to shape me and stretch me, for His glory, my sake, and the benefit of others.  If you are Christian, and it is not a practice that you are accustomed to observing, I would encourage you to ask questions and learn more - I have found it to be a worthwhile discipline and practice - and something that extends far beyond self-control or just doing things that we should already be doing.  Rather it really is an invitation for Jesus to meet us and transform us.  To empty us of the idols that we have worshipped and depended on in his stead, and to fill our empty places with his presence and his fullness.

Disciplines should challenge us - but not overwhelm us.  They should be meaningful and doable - few in number - and places that are authentic to where we are and where God is inviting us, not others.

As I been processing through my "vulnerability" and "real me" series, and become more aware of the areas in my life that I long for Jesus to speak into, Lent has fallen very aptly.  So here's what I think some of the invitations for me are, and the practices that I am going to (attempt to, with grace) put into place during this season of Lent:

inviation: Move towards community for the sake of transformation not validation

discipline: delete facebook from my phone for this period.  

I don't think facebook itself is a problem for me - but the very quick access, any time I want it, tends to allow me to check in constantly, pat myself on the back based on how many "likes" or comments I get - to seek quick validation or connection rather than real relationship - and in general, feel more connected to people than I actually am.  Removing it from a "instant fix" will force me to more actively decide if it's necessary to post something or check in - and hopefully enable me to be more present where I am.  Believe it or not, anything not on my phone takes much more effort, thanks to tiny, grabby hands which love computers and especially the caps lock button.  :-P The goal in its stead is to connect directly, via text or phone or chat or in person with real-life friends who know me, can and do challenge me, and with whom I can "do life" together in meaningful ways.  And to commit to honesty and transparency, rather than image maintenance with them and in my social media appearances.

invitation: to continue to grow in an understanding of who I am, who Jesus says that I am, and what that causes me to do and how it causes me to relate to others.

discipline: be intentionally faithful and present in introspection and community.

Committing to continue (regularly) journaling, praying, reading, writing (introspection), and inviting a few close friends to pray alongside me, committing my own vulnerability and openness, and asking them to share with me constructive direction, re-direction, laughter, and companionship (community).

At present, I'm figuring out a book to read, as part of that intentionality - as I already read daily, it's not adding something, merely focusing what I read.  I am considering one of Richard Rohr's books - "Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life," or "Wondrous Encounters: Scripture for Lent" or "Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self."  If you would like to read along with me, I'd love company.

invitation: to say meaningful YES's & NO's - to my sons, and to God, as well as to others

discipline: no idea yet.  

The thought behind this is that often times I find myself spiraling into patterns of always saying YES or always saying NO, for convenience, for order, for self-protection or self-image, without there being much discernment or risk or wisdom in the process.  Maybe the discipline is as simple as taking a meaningful pause before answering YES or NO or even just asking God for daily awareness of my YES's and NO's.  This is still TBD.

Even though Lent technically started today, I am just now starting.  Grace abounds, but so does the invitation to faithfulness.  So right now, I am going to be faithful, and go ahead and hit that little delete button on my phone.  Eeeek.  So much harder than it sounds.  

May this be a transformational season for us all!  I look forward to looking back and seeing the ways in which God has once again taken that which is fear and death, and brought forth life and hope in its stead.

And I would love to hear how you are observing Lent, if you are...

Real Me, Right Now: setting goals

This is the fourth post in my current series on vulnerability; if you missed earlier posts and are in the mood for some heavy or just some real, you can catch the series introduction here, or follow along with the previous posts, which follow after it in February with the same hashtag.

Since last time ended up being a giant *splat* of lots of things, this one will be a transition post, as we move forward in self-assessment, both struggles and gifts.

#RealMeRightNow

Last time I wrote, I shared about coming out of the storm, of waiting with hope, and asking God to speak truth over me.  To show me the way forward, to speak into my emptiness, and to remind me of who I am all over again.  And that was and is true and good, and where I am: still waiting.

My tendency, with my loving (please read sarcasm) to emote-ness, once the "crisis" has passed with all its unsettling emotiveness and chaos, is to also let the urgency of pressing in and moving forward pass.  And thus my task is always to press in.  To continue to actively and interactively wait in a place of expectation and hope,  to build a foundation and begin to move forward, rather than to settle for mediocrity and a lack of crisis in the exact same place.

As I have pressed in, this has felt like the invitation:

"To set reasonable goals" in order to faithfully "Use the gifts that I have already been given."
"Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up."
Say to the Lord, "I am your servant, may it be with me, as you have said."
"In community, with dependence on friends."


//7

I am great at setting lofty goals.  Truly excellent at setting goals for other people, in particular my best friends and my husband. No sweat, whatsoever. Not so good at setting reasonable or healthy goals for myself.  Mine are typically too big, too small, or not realistic for my context or season in life.  I am not so great at setting goals that are not self-serving or self-aggrandizing.  And definitely not good at walking the long, slow walk of following through with life-changing, core-shifting, big-enough-to-be-goals, servant-hearted goals.  And I really have no idea how to do that in a holy, healthy, and God-honoring, God-partnering way.

But that feels like the invitation for now.

I've asked some of my closest friends to pray through this with me, to help me set reasonable goals - knowing me and knowing my strengths, knowing what gives life to my soul, and what I can offer that brings life to others as well.  Given them permission to speak truth to me, and to listen to God on my behalf.  And I'm pressing in as well, seeking, for the first time in a long-time, to set healthy, non-new-years-resolution-ish goals.

I have no idea how to do that.

And this feels weird to say in a blog-y setting, but, what the heck, we're taking risks, right? Moving forward in vulnerability?  So here we go:

If, as you read along, as I share some of my strengths, you prayerfully feel like there's a place where I should press in or focus a "reasonable goal" - please tell me.  I'd love to receive that (with grace and discernment) from you as well.

- KD

Real Me, Right Now: out of the storm, waiting in hope

So I have to confess, I was surprised this week...

When I started the recent series on vulnerability (#RealMeRightNow) talking about things I'm actively struggling with right now, rather than past tense - I expected it to be good for me.  I even expected it to feel a little weird, awkward, or perhaps even a little exposed.

I was not expecting the internal chaos that ensued.  The larger, more central issues, which were illuminated and laid plain by simply opening up that door.

I was not expecting to feel undone.  And to have the torrential downpour of emotions that I was unaware were reigning (see what I did there) under the surface suddenly flood externally.

I was not expecting the anger and ugly and loneliness and tears that I found.

I was not expecting the guilt and insignificance that I would feel at voicing current struggles when there are so many bigger issues out there that I should be wrestling with instead.  Or the ways in which I would want and need others to come alongside me.

But.

Neither was I expecting the catalyst that it would be for change.  The ways that it would force me to face things that otherwise would have remained under the surface, lost under diaper changes, meals, day-to-day busyness, and this most recent Snowmaggedon.  The ways that it would require me to step back, go off-line and talk things through with my husband, my closest friends, and with God.  The ways that community - true friends - would rise up around me.  The ways that I would have to make a choice - step in, or step back - true consolation or false - hope or emptiness.  The invitations for growth that I would receive as a result.  And the good, forward moving conversations with Jon that would occur.

Suffice to say, this has been a hard week.  A risky one.  A lonely one. And one with many tears.  But a rewarding one, as the chaff burns away and the heart is revealed and refined.

All in all, I think it's worth it - every bit - to be honest and open (with discretion) in the here and now, the good, the bad, and the in yet-to-be-determined.  How's that for a promo?  But for real.  I mean that.

//3

As a disclaimer, I firmly believe that one should never become consumed by solely ones own personal struggles.  They are minuscule compared to the larger issues at play in our world.  I can name for you countless other things that are more significant, more blog-worthy, and a better use of space and time, than my personal struggles.  This is a fact. And I will and do and will continue to, write about those often as well. But.  And I am wholly convinced of this - until we face ourselves - until we wrestle with our own demons, our words about larger issues, will largely fall empty.  Those who are the most effective in addressing and facilitating change in the world, and calling out the best in others, are those who are neither captivated by nor ignorant of their own hearts and struggles.  They are the ones who have faced themselves, know themselves, and are committed to the work of transformation beginning with themselves first and foremost.   The wrestling with the rest will follow out of a heart that is willing to be softened, willing to listen, willing to be changed, and willing to act.

So yes, friend, it is worth the space and time to begin with yourself.  Don't end there. Don't stay there. But absolutely begin there.

So here's where I am, and what I'm learning, realizing, and struggling with, right here, right now:

//4

Being a stay-at-home mom is an incredible gift - it is also an incredibly lonely, and often thankless job.  I love it, and wouldn't trade it for the world - it's the most full and beautiful job that I've ever had, but it's also the hardest job I've ever had - and it's nearly impossible to feel like you are succeeding in it.  As someone who is often times not super in touch with her feelings, the reality is, in the haze of young children,  I haven't really taken a good evaluation of myself lately, haven't noticed how hollow I have been in the absence of external evaluation and affirmation - until this week, as I attempted to give voice to present struggles.  As I voiced my own need for affirmation, all of a sudden, it was as if the external scaffolding of "I'm fine" and "if I can't see it, it's not there" was pulled back and without it, the internal void was revealed.  I was, and am, a mess.

//5

And I have never felt so alone.

It was as if all of a sudden, the last 7 months of not really noticing, or paying attention to my heart, feelings, and needs in the midst of caring for the needs of two very adorable but needy little people - the last 7 months of the beautiful and oh so good but often times lonely task of stay-at-home parenthood - came into full view, washing over me like a heavy flood of ugly tears.  Pair that with a toddler who has recently discovered his will, the word "no" shouted at high volume, and the value of a good temper tantrum, and an infant who is newly crawling and once-again teething, and let's just say that there were lots of tears in our household, all around.


//6

In the midst of that, a lot of anger began to rise to the surface, in particular with a few very close friends and even my husband.  How could they not notice?  After all the ways that I have gone out of my way to care for them - why had they not cared for me in tangible ways?  Why hadn't he fixed this? Why were they missing me now, as I reached out online, and directly?  In the midst of my loneliness, and need for affirmation, I began to lash out (in my heart and head - the wisdom of processing space and discretion was still present, thankfully) at those that I felt should have been there.   Should have noticed.  To blame.  To be jealous of the affirmation and encouragement that these and others received where I felt a lacking.  And to feel in my heart the very strong desire to cut off ties, to push them away, and to rage with all the pent up emptiness and hurt that I was feeling.  It was/is ugly, friends.  Really ugly.

But.  Praise the Lord, there is a But.

But, as all of this, all of my ugly, my heart, and my under-the-surface emptiness and storms began to rage in the open - all of a sudden, I had to deal with it.  I could no longer ignore it, be ignorant of it, or "just wait for it to blow over."  This is one of the gifts and the beauties of vulnerability:  it opens a door for the winds of change to begin to blow.  Until we face ourselves, change and healing can only be in part.

I had to choose: push through by myself (because that was working really well, from my puddle on the floor complete with toddler companion and infant scavenger) or invite local, every-day, in person friends to see my heart, my needs, and my mess, and allow them to care for me? To pray for me.  To encourage me.  And to point me back to what is true.

The friends (and Jon) that I invited in, they did.  They cared for me.  In real and tangible ways.  And it was, and is, a beautiful gift.  They watched my children, they prayed for me, they spoke truth over me, they hugged me, and they let me rage in healthy ways.

I had to choose: hate my friends who had not seen me, not known what I was going through and not cared for me well in that or deal with my own inner void.  Allow Jesus to redirect my neediness to him, and let Him meet it, speak into it, and give me wisdom for how to deal with the feelings of hurt from friends.

As I turned inwards, and looked towards my own heart, my own void, and my own needs - it became clear that the larger issue was my own void, and not the absence of those friends.  In fact, it became clearer to me, that they were in their own trenches and rough patches.  That their absence had nothing to do with me - that they simply were preoccupied with their own chaos.  And I began to hear the invitation from Jesus, to simply love them wildly, and in the ways that I longed to be cared for, without requiring reciprocation.  To see them, and move towards them, rather than away.

Please hear me, truly, that I am not opposed to confronting a friend in love - in fact, it often is my first impulse, and often, when done for their sake not mine, is the first step to fighting for a friendship and truly loving the friend - but in this place, it has felt like it is neither true to what God is doing in me, nor true to what God is doing in them.  Instead, the invitation for me was one of trust, and pressing in, in radical love.   This is an active journey, as I struggle to figure out what that means.

Like Elijah, I am in the cave, waiting for the Lord's presence, His question, and His answer.  I am still lonely.  Still needing a renewed understanding of who I am and how I am loved.  The void is still there.  And I am still waiting.

But in truth and vulnerability, it has been laid bare.  And in the now-apparent emptiness, there is all-of-a-sudden space, and light, and opportunity for growth.  And so now I wait.

But instead of with anger, it is with hope.  And an invitation to love.

Instead of alone, it is in the company of friends.

And that is a gift.

#RealMeRightNow

Real Me, Right Now: affirm me! tell me I matter!

This is post number two in a new series on vulnerability.  Over the course of ten blog posts, I will be sharing five present time things that I'm wrestling with, as well as five strengths or things that I really love about myself.  If you are up for it, feel free to join me... or not!

For the longer overview, check out the series introduction or the first post!

#RealMeRightNow

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This one feels a bit more risky, and a lot more ugly, but here it is none-the-less...

I'm a 3 on the Enneagram (the need to succeed) - and man, is it showing these days.  Most people crave affirmation and support and encouragement, and want to know that they're doing a good job, but for me, especially when I'm not in the most healthy places, I crave it more than most.  More than that, I want to know that I'm doing a good job, enjoyed for who I am, and writing, saying, doing things that matter.

For threes, often times, our biggest fear is failure (not succeeding, not mattering, being abandoned, letting people down, etc) and right now - being a snow-bound, stay-at-home mama (and often feeling like not a great one at that), writing a (slightly!) less than vastly popular blog, between "prestigious" jobs, trying to figure out where our community is now and feeling the loss and transition of some of our friends - in the midst of all of that, all of those insecurities have reared their ugly heads up loud and proud.  And I am really wrestling with wanting (and feeling that I need) that affirmation that I'm doing okay.  That I'm appreciated.  That I matter, not just for what I can do for my kids, or the sacrifice that I am making for them - I know that matters tremendously - but that I as a person, still am doing something that matters.  That I have worth and value.  (Sound familiar?  I'll give you a hint - this is my recurring battle, from whence the title of the blog itself actually came.)

I become more needy and demanding that others affirm me and commute worth to me with their words and actions.  My core understanding of my value and worth becomes less stable - and as such, I look to others to stabilize me instead.  And get angry when those closest to me can't meet the felt need inside.  [Freedom for all: no one can actually meet that need, don't worry. It has very little to do with you.]  Or get jealous when others seem to receive the affirmation and attention that I want.  Or I become tit-for-tat with my affirmations and care of others - "if I do this for you, then I expect you to do the same for me."  And bitter when it is not reciprocated.    It's ugly, friends.  Deeply ugly.

Lest you think that affirmation and attention are actually what I need, let me just clarify that they aren't.  But it sure feels like what I want.  Man, does it ever.

I've been here before, and I know that the path to health for me is actually to turn inward - to actually face myself in silence and solitude and a quest for solid truth about my identity and worth, outside of success, public feedback, applause and admiration.  To continue to press into truth, vulnerability, and real relationships.  To heed the invitation to hear again that "I am called beloved" "daughter" "delight" regardless of what I do, say, or achieve.

It is an invitation for transformation, this struggle - it always is.  And it's a good thing, ultimately, this place, because it precedes a healthy, rooted, true place without all the trappings that I attempt to claim as my worth -  but it's a hard place to be nonetheless, because all of the scaffolding on which I place my identity and value and worth, feel like they have been removed - and what is left is the ugly places that I go to instead.  And, while I know the rooted place, and know that's what I want, that that's good, I'm not there yet.

But sharing this, publicly, while still in process, is a small way of claiming the very real hope that I will be there once again. #RealMeRightNow

real me, right now: adventuring vs. order

I wrote a long post earlier this week about this new series on vulnerability, which you can check out, if you're curious about what and why I'm sharing these next few days.  But the gist is - as someone who shares often, and offers advice often, from past struggles or lessons - I realized that we often do this only when we reach resolution or "lesson learned," and as such, often times lose the opportunity invite companionship and encouragement or have that true, transparent, honest look at the "real me" in the presence of friends.  And in that, hear it said over us, "you are called beloved, yes, even now."

As someone whose "life's ambition and daily challenge is to learn to live as a woman with peace in her presence, and out of the confidence that I am called beloved," I am endeavoring to be more open also in the present and active unresolved places also (with context and discretion), as a way of owning the "real-time" me (both ideal and non-ideal aspects) without shame.  I'm currently reading Changes that Heal, by Dr. Henry Cloud, psychologist and author, and this quote talking about the dichotomy between our ideal self and our real self, was striking to me in this regard:

If we adopt a judgmental tone, of condemnation and wrath towards what is real, then we have a divided house.  Our ideals will judge and condemn our real self into non-existence.  We will use shame, guilt, hiding, denial, splitting, and other defenses to hide the real self.  Whatever we do not accept in grace will be under judgment and condemnation and we will hide it behind a psychological fig leaf.  If we adopt a loving and accepting tone toward our real self, there is hope for transformation.  If we are able to accept the parts of ourselves we do not feel are ideal, then those parts will be loved and healed.  They can begin to grow in ways never imagined.  Acceptance is the answer to the dilemma of the ideal versus the real.  That is grace. (Changes that Heal, p. 238)

Over the course of ten blog posts, I will be sharing five present time things that I'm wrestling with, as well as five strengths or things that I really love about myself.  If you are up for it, feel free to join me!

#RealMeRightNow

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As a parent of two very curious, very active little boys, I am wrestling right now with how to find the balance between encouraging creativity, enthusiasm, and adventurous hearts, and just plain old wanting some semblance of safety and order and maybe occasionally quiet.  The parent that I want to be longs for the first, but the parent that I am craves the latter too. I often times feel like I can choose either letting them be creative explorers, mess-makers, and enthusiastic adventurers OR keeping things from breaking constantly, in order to not find [for totally hypothetical example] them (the older) on chairs trying to cook on the real stove with real knives (he's fine, don't worry!) or (the younger) under chairs trying to chew on whatever cords he can find.  I can either say "no" and "please be careful" always often (and have obedience and some order and a semi-bored toddler) or I can let that go and feel a bit like I'm losing my mind with all the chaos, but bless his/their enthusiastic, creative, explorer selves.

I know it's a balance, and never all either or, but I end most days frustrated either feeling like I've "not let them do anything even mildly dangerous or adventurous" and have had to constantly say no all day or like our entire house has been destroyed by their "helping" and "exploring."  I don't want to squelch their enthusiasm, but I often struggle to "let it go" or discern what a "healthy level of explorers' risk" is, for a two year old in particular.  [This is without even beginning to touch the very real lack of creative energy I currently have with two littles and the tangible mom guilt of "not being creative enough" or "not doing enough pinterest-y educational activities with them to offset the high levels of energy in healthy ways."] All this exacerbated in real time because of their ages, napping needs, and the massive amounts of snow outside at present, often leading to adventures (out of necessity) being indoors.  #RealMeRightNow

New Series: Vulnerability

Dear friends,

Have you ever noticed that we tend to talk about struggles, learning curves, rough patches and lessons (learned) only after they are, well, learned, beaten, overcome, etc?

There's something beautiful, and perhaps delightful, that we want to share hope, encouragement, advice, and diamonds in the rough that we've uncovered the hard way - so that someone else can be encouraged, or learn the lesson a bit easier than we have had to.  In a world that is full of discouragement, brokenness, and hardship, there is something quite beautiful and good about seeing triumphs and struggles overcome.  Please don't get me wrong; I wholeheartedly encourage and bless "battles won" stories.  And I will read them, celebrate with you, weep with you, and empathize as I'm able.  True hope is always a good thing.

But.

Have you ever noticed that we don't really talk about "struggles" or "rough patches" when we're in the thick of them?  When we don't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet?  When we don't know where we're going even?  When we're treading water, lost in the dark, overwhelmed, uncertain or even just confused and in need of direction... or maybe just sad.  Even if we still have hope - real hope, not denial or avoidance of the issues - we don't talk about it until that hope has been realized.

Of course there is wisdom to discretion in where and when we share.  And of course there are things that we struggle with that are not ours alone, and thus not ours to share.  And certainly, we wish to avoid whining or complaining and do our utmost to maintain a positive perspective.  Given.

But if we happen to be people who preach vulnerability and honesty regularly - those who share struggles in the past tense willingly, if not always easily - and very certainly, if we are those who often find ourselves offering advice out of our "past lessons" - can we not also be willing to share (with wisdom) those that are still "in process"?

My hunch is that we don't because we are deeply afraid that we will be greeted with fast fixes and easy solutions, and not really heard.  That we'll be judged.  That the clock will start ticking for us to figure this out. That maybe our worst fears are true, and we really are the only ones who are still wrestling with this.  Or maybe people just won't know how to respond and it'll be "a conversation killer" or we'll be labeled "the girl who is ______" or maybe it'll just be really awkward.  We'll get a pat on the back, some stock advice, and then others will either move on, or dwell there forever not allowing us to be the dynamic human beings that we are and actually grow and find our diamonds through the rough.  That the real vulnerability of putting our raw selves out there will leave us just that - raw, vulnerable, and exposed.  And even more alone than we were before.

Lest you think I am waxing poetic, using far too many words, as usual, let me be clear: this is me.  I am excellent at being open about struggles, once I am through them.  Or have a plan.  Or feel that I have learned a [valuable] lesson out of them.  But not so great about real-time transparency.

And while that keeps the waters clearer for everyone else, I don't know that it's always the healthiest pattern for any of us.  See, I think we wrestlers - and I think that actually includes most of us - more than any wisdom or advice, we need to know that we're not alone.   That struggle, that rough patches, are okay.  That we make it through them, that there are others ahead of us on the journey, absolutely.  But we also, like AA members, need brothers and sisters who are beside us in the journey, wrestling together, as well as those ahead of us, and those we lead as well.  And often times the only way we find those companions is by giving voice to where we wrestle, in present tense.  Inviting companions on the journey, if you will.

In all fairness, on the other side of the proverbial vulnerability coin, we (I, at least - I'm assuming I'm not the only one?!) are also hesitant to talk about our strengths and gifts, places where we do have wisdom, things we love about ourselves - perhaps because we don't really have the vernacular to do so without sounding arrogant or boastful.  I always feel a little embarrassed and feel like I need to qualify any statement of that nature.  Or, in my less healthy moments, plant hints so that someone else will say it about me so that I can humbly bow my head and politely deny it, and then instruct my minions with my wealth of knowledge and wisdom.  [sound familiar?] At which point the strength has become neither helpful to someone else nor a healthy appraisal of self.

But this is also vulnerability - and a healthy, humble, and honest assessment of self.  And if I can be honest - this one is far harder for me to do than the former.  But a healthy exercise for me to do nonetheless. [try it: what do you love about yourself?!]

Perhaps you are better at one of these than the other.

So where am I going with this?

I have this crazy idea that I'm going to start something new here... 

... that I'm going to take the first step, hoping that some of you will follow after, and share - in real time - five current places of wrestling for me.  And five current things that I consider strengths in myself, that I love about who I am and the ways that I relate to others.  One a day, over the course of ten posts. [but no promises that they will be consecutive days...]

I promise, I will do this [in a paragraph or two?] briefly.  Without attempting to summarize or come to a clean conclusion.  And conversely, without embarrassment or qualifications.

They will be a wide variety of wrestlings and things I love - some bigger, some smaller - all weighed with discretion for contextual appropriateness before sharing.  But each real in its own wrestling and blessing.  I totally thought these out this morning while waiting for my annual well-patient OBGYN appointment.  [TMI? Probably.  But I totally did just so you know.]

Perhaps you will follow along.  Perhaps you won't.  But if you do, I hope it will in some small way encourage you.

Because it is in fact vulnerability, may I make one teeny tiny request?

Should you happen to share a similar struggle, or have already been through it, and feel you have wisdom to offer, perhaps a well-received response would be along the lines of:

... Offering empathy and encouragement - avoiding pithy and trite phrases as much as possible.  Consider how you can bless gifts and struggle with your words and your responses.

... Not minimizing active struggle by jumping straight to solution or advice.  Leaving the ball in our court as to whether we're ready for advice, or just need to know that we're not alone.

And if you are willing, would you consider sharing out loud, in social media, one thing that you really love about yourself (#WhatILikeAboutMe)?  And maybe one place that you are actively wrestling?

Let's see what happens.  But here we go...

6 months and oh so adorable!

Happy 6+ months, E!  [You hit this milestone a week and a half ago, but since this is the only baby booking that Mommy is doing, we're going to do it anyhow! :)] I say this every time, but I can't believe how fast time is flying - it seems like you are growing up overnight these days!  And Daddy and I are absolutely loving getting to be your parents.  It seems like every day you wrap us (and your big brother!) more and more around your little fingers...  we love you so very much!

Your Profile
At your 6 month appointment, you were 27.5 inches long and 16.4 lbs - very tall (98 percentile), and very lean (just off the 50th percentile)!  Your doctor has tasked us with fattening you up a bit, as you are slightly underweight, so you are enjoying copious amounts of food these days!  You are very content to just hang out or snuggle, and in no hurry to move - you do, however, love to talk with mom and dad, and big brother, and everything goes in your mouth!  You have fair blond-brown hair, and still slightly blue eyes, although like your brothers, they are darkening gradually.  You are the happiest, most smily, trusting kiddo - you greet everyone and anyone everywhere with a huge grin.  And, at long last, you seem to have outgrown your digestive issues, for which we are so thankful! This is the first full month without digestive fussiness, and the reflux has improved dramatically with solids. You are sleeping well (through the night, starting at 5 months), eating fairly well now, and grinning all the time.

Thing One and Thing Two are virtually inseparable

Loving our Solid Foods!

Things You've Learned
You are quite adroit at rolling from your tummy to back, and can do back to tummy, but haven't mastered it on your own yet.  You are very close to sitting on your own, but still like to flop over for a snuggle instead of stay independently up.  You are "worm" scooting in your crib, but not true crawling yet.  I don't think it's far off though.  You started solid foods at 6 months, and are very proud of your ability to put food in your own mouth, and very insistent that no one but you gets to hold the spoon.  You appear to be a righty, at least at first glance.

Baptism by Dan V

You were also baptized this month, at Mommy and Daddy's home church - with all of Daddy's family in attendance!  You smiled and wiggled and seemed totally indifferent to the whole experience!  Your brother loved the microphone and wanted to make a speech on your behalf (or at least hold the microphone!)

Family Baptism photo

Your Firsts

• Solid foods (6 mo) - current favorite is sweet potatoes and avocados
• Christmas (5 mo 3 wk) - we celebrated with all of Daddy's family, up in New Hampshire
• Meeting all of your aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and great-grandparents
• Sharing a room with your brother (at 6 mo) - you both LOVE it and spend your settling time grinning at each other and talking - and surprisingly, most nights, you both sleep well
• Big cold - icky yucky - but you have handled it like a champ.  Like every child except your big brother, you hate the booger sucker, but other than that, have handled it stellarly.
• Tooth (at 6 mo 1 wk)- finally!  We have one in and it looks like 3 more close behind
• Snowfall - you were unimpressed

Playing in the snow with Mommy and Grandma - not sure what Mommy's face is doing :-P

Things You Like

• Your brother - always and forever, he is the very tip top of your list
• When Daddy tickles you or tosses you (gently) in the air
• Sweet potatoes and avocados
• Feeding yourself (and chewing on everything)
• Snuggle-time with mommy (or really anyone)
• Reading stories (and chewing on books, let's be honest)
• Smiling

Christmas in NH with Family

Christmas morning 2014

Family picture, Christmas 2014

Christmas morning 2014

Snuggles with mommy, Christmas morning

We love you so very very much, sweet E!  We are so very proud of the little boy that you are, and delighted that we get to be your parents and walk with you each step of the way!  Thank you, for bringing us so much joy and laughter each day!

6 months old!