I have always been drawn to children, with their innocent sense of wonder and deep curiosity with the everyday patterns of the world. For this reason, I knew at a young age that I would study Child Development and I also knew that someday I would have children of my own. I eagerly awaited this season, jealously eying the moms running errands in yoga pants from coffeeshops to Whole Foods, daydreaming of Mom Life when I could go about my daily rhythms with a cute tiny baby in tow. Sometimes I catch myself watching this play out before my eyes like a film in which I am the spectator instead of the leading lady. I find myself shocked to be in the role of Mom; that the day is not a distant daydream, it is in fact the reality of the life I live.

I don't struggle with a sense of purpose, because I find such fulfillment in days with Jack. I know that so much of my purpose is claimed by him, and I find that a noble and honorable calling to fulfill. 

However, I struggle with a sense of Belonging. I don't feel at home in the world of moms with older children - conversation topics of field trips and kindergarten teachers; the moms who have casually moved past the realm of diapers and sleep training and seem to look back on those days with a sort of non-envy only a new mom can recognize. While I love our home, I don't feel a strong sense of community on our street of retired folks - who in their best intentions to make us feel welcome, take in our trash and tell us they'll watch over our home while we're gone - which only serves to prove that this world is an unfolding of predictable patterns lacking the spontaneity and stories I thrive on each day. Sometimes I feel like a foreigner in California, having not grown-up in a world of everyday sunshine, surfing, and light layers, I feel a constant heartache for the makeup of my childhood snow forts and fireside hot cocoa. Renovating our home fulfilled deep-seated desires of late-night Pinterest finds and journal-filled design sketches, but to find myself as a stay-at-home mom on the edge of a canyon with only a Target within walkability brings a kind of loneliness that even someone with the #1 strength of Positivity can't rise above. I am left with the question of - Where do I belong? 

I belong as a wife to Benjamin, a mom to Jack, a professor at PLNU. I belong as a friend to our community here and the moms I find myself texting with each day. To those roles I feel connection... but when it's just me going about my daily days, I don't tangibly feel belonging to this rhythm I find myself living. I used to find identity through seeking wonder in even the most mundane but human moments of life - dishes, cleaning, errands - but I now find these events uninspiring and lacking anything of actual worth. I can't seem to sense contentment or an ability to bypass the ordinary and find the extraordinary as I used to somehow be so good at curating in my life. So I've immersed myself in other peoples' stories - podcasts, memoirs, documentaries - with an attempt to insert a glimmer of interesting from their life into mine. I so desperately hope to write my own book, but then I fear I have nothing to contribute - after all, who would read the boring story of my life? The life of waiting for the mailman at 11:30 and taking out the trash bins every Tuesday night? People crave adventure. I have nothing to offer in that realm.

I desire to come alive with the very marrow of life itself, to wake-up with a sense of inspiration unshaken by the day-to-day. But I don't know how. When I found myself stuck in a rut in the past, it has always opened a door to move or travel... but for me now, I feel trapped in the very real fact that this is not an option. Where does that bring me? I live with the internal motivation to do Everything with my life, and yet most days I feel that I have done Nothing. The inner voice tells me it's not enough - give more, do more, be more - but I don't feel the guidance or wisdom to know exactly where or how. I respect the roles with which I identify, but life lacks a strong tie to a community admonished with such deep attachment & affection that I'm led to do just about anything for it.

I don't have answers; only questions, reflections, and thoughts. 

And Jack smiles - always Jack smiles.

.

I have been thinking lately about what it means to nourish my soul... to do the things that make me feel the most Me so that I don't get lost in the identity of Mom. I'm so afraid of that - of having one singular angle to life and my world revolving around the Baby... knowing only how to converse of sleep schedules and feeding struggles instead of the important things of my heart and my life.

There is something about returning to the place where I grew-up that reminds me of my core Me - sifting through pictures and memorabilia that formerly consumed my world, and feeling alien to this old way of life.

There is a season that springboarded the formation of my deeper self - one that I am most thankful for - graduate school at Wheaton. It was there that I was immersed in the world of academia on a new level - studying theology and spiritual disciplines and critically examining my rhythms of life and experiences of God. Walks through campus in every season, whether trodding through snow or shuffling in leaves, brought me to reflect on God's faithfulness in leading me to a program where I was challenged to integrate prayer into daily routines and learn solitude and rest at a local monastery. Writing my master's thesis on the spiritual discipline of pilgrimage is a topic that remains close to my heart and one that I hope to explore even further at the university level someday. I remember people asking me - so what do you do with a degree in spiritual formation? While I don't want to dismiss the integrity of the question - it's a good question - it's also a fractional way to view education. The end goal of learning is not necessarily to do anything specific, but to become - to immerse one's head and heart into that which is transformational is always a worthy investment. The topics I explored and the people I met and the discussions I engaged in changed me. My outlook on life now is holistic in the sense of breaking down the silos of "my spiritual life" and "my everyday life" - I was taught rhythms to live by and topics to wrestle with. I became the best version of myself in the program, and I have brought myself - my whole self - to the work I do now with students.

In the past four months, my world has turned upside down and sideways with a baby... not just because of the extreme exhaustion causing my words to get muddled and my brain to be tired from the constant decision-making and anxiety that perhaps I'm ill-equipped as a Mom and causing eternal turmoil in Jack's life - but also because my focus has shifted. In some ways this is positive - I am certainly less selfish and more flexible - but in other ways I have told myself I have to lay down everything that is important to me. What I have considered lately is that in the laying down of my life for my baby and my husband, I can also take time to nourish my own soul and practice the contemplative rituals that are so dear to me - lectio divina, Taize, imaginative prayer. While I can't necessarily travel to a cross-country pilgrimage in Europe at this juncture of life,  I can be a pilgrim here at home, with Jack. I can immerse myself in landscape that draws me to Christ, I can marvel at the sunrise and the sunset that brings me to worship, and I can attend prayer services that provide a quiet and sacred space to experience God. After all, the saying on the Camino is that the true pilgrimage begins when you return home. The mark of transformation is when the practices and experiences of God along the route become the default way of living - I don't return to the habits that used to form my life. I break new ground and form new roads.

I have committed to finding a spiritual director here; to attending a contemplative prayer service on Wednesday nights, to writing even when my thoughts feel misconstrued and unintelligent. Because I believe these routines are life-giving and life-changing and make me the most Me. These practices keep me whole - which make me a more present Mom and a more compassionate friend and a more servant-hearted wife.

The Feeling of Being a Mom

Some days I get a glimpse of Jack and it hits me "I'm a Mom." It feels foreign and surreal because I always thought I would "be a certain person" when I became a Mom. When I was younger, I had a vision of what I would be like when I was a teenager or when I went to college or when I got married. I pictured myself as a different person; I imagined that I would somehow feel different... even though I can't exactly pin down what that "different feeling" would be...

The truth is, I'm still me. And in so many ways, I feel different... but I also don't fit that vision of the feeling I thought I would have. Maybe because life takes its turns and I never pictured myself Mom'ing in San Diego, living in Clairemont, or teaching at PLNU.

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that life pans out better than my initial vision. Even though sometimes I want to fight for what I think it's "supposed" to be, being present to what life currently looks like brings much more peace. Letting go of the "ought's and should's" is one of my greatest challenges and disciplines.

It feels an impossible task to capture these moments - each one seeming as though it will be forever, while our Jack continues to prove to us that we are, in fact, incapable over the control of time.

I don't drink my coffee hot anymore; I'm slightly behind on the happenings of the world; my days are lived in 3-hour increments; my sentences sometimes take longer to construct -- but living each day with this little guy somehow brings the most immeasurable joy. It has been said that a child is "your heart outside your body," and that is the closest phrase I can use to express what exactly life feels like right now.

There also exists fear -- looming in the background, mischievously trying to stifle the rest to be found in the present moment. I have never known fear like this -- the kind that debilitates and sends me spiraling to deep lies I am even afraid to admit are there. I am afraid of his 2's; afraid that I will long for these days as a baby and that it only gets harder. I am afraid I won't know what to do as I parent moment to moment; that I won't be a good enough Mom for him. I am afraid for the first time his feelings are hurt, or his body gets hurt, or - even worse - his spirit is hurt. I'm afraid for when he tells me to stop kissing him in public or that he doesn't need me anymore and wants to do things by himself. I'm afraid he won't want to know Jesus or reject the Church or tell us that our beliefs are all lies. I'm afraid for him to experience loneliness or sadness or confusion or fear.

Perhaps one of the best things about babies is their innocence - completely untouched and untainted by other humans or burdens of life. In so many ways, I want to fight to keep it that way. But the transformation comes from the wounds; the journey is marked by overcoming the hardship; and every one of my fears will most likely occur. The truth is, I can't keep Jack from experiencing life - and I would be stealing from him if I were to protect him from the challenge and difficulty. It is in those moments that character is formed and identity becomes rooted. Over and over again, I remember that I have to surrender his life to God, and that He will give me the grace I need to guide Jack through the day to day. I'm not perfect -- and that is the whole point. Henri Nouwen writes: "never trust a Christian who doesn't limp." We all partake in the collective human experience of suffering - and it is our wounds that bring validity to our story.

I am shedding layer upon layer of trusting myself instead of Christ; control instead of surrender; striving for perfection instead of transparency. While I know that God has entrusted me to teach and guide Jack as he grows; He has also given me Jack to refine and form me. I must remember that God is presently bringing me to Himself in every opportunity He can. He is here with me now, in this season, changing my heart to be more like His.

In the gray light of the morning there surfaces a question of time.
The beep of the coffeemaker brings the signal--
yet the home remains undisturbed.
The canyon promises moments of rest;
leaves swaying in fluid rhythm;
fog looming in faraway hills.
The lines that divide day and night are blurred;
but still, the morning invites the peace I seek.
It brings hints of the subtle and gentle hope of His Promises;
yes, they are new every morning.

New Rhythms

Jack has brought a new rhythm to life that we are both still figuring out together. Days and nights stream together like uninterrupted time... three hour block schedules form our day - running around between naps and car backseat feedings and trying to figure out unending baby puzzles is the new normal. Each day feels the same and yet different - it feels like he is growing up too fast and yet not at all. I am trying to savor every moment - every little cuddle and coo, wake-up stretches and little baby faces; every late night sleepy snuggle, sneezes, and songs.

Everyone says these days go by so fast and to soak them all in. I know it's true - I see my first class of preschoolers entering the teenage years and marching off to 7th grade this year; I see my instagram feed previously filled with babies now making their way to Kindergarten... these infant moments won't last forever, which is both glorious and heartbreaking all at once. I love this little guy so much, yet he has turned my world upside down in ways I never could've predicted. I am both exhausted and fulfilled; terrified and overjoyed.

I recently had lunch with two friends who I encouraged to explore the teaching program in Spain I did years ago, and it occurred to me how different life is for me now. They are twenty-three and heading off on their adventure... anticipation, excitement, dreams of travel to Portugal and the south of France... airbnb's and hostels and trains and Euro Life. Everyone told me those days would go by so quickly - to do it all while I still had time... What days don't fly by?! What time doesn't pass?! Life feels fleeting and overwhelming and everything is put into perspective when a little human enters the world.

One Month Later

Nobody can prepare you for what it's like having a newborn. Of course, I knew this going into it. All the years of studying child development combined with nannying other people's children cannot cover the time warp feeling of foggy living -- figuring out if it's day or night and begging your crying infant at 2am to tell you why he's upset. There's no amount of theory or research or experience that can change the every-changing puzzle of a baby.

It is a life of paradoxes - it is the greatest joy and the greatest fear; the deepest love and deepest feeling of loss; it's the greatest change and yet everything remains the same. Life is now lived in the push and pull of these opposites. I realize that even before he was born, these extremes were present - through my 20's, traveling, moving, dating, engagement, marriage... starting a family. The post-partum hormones bring all the emotions to the surface as if the reality of Life itself becomes too much to grip; the passage of time reeling past like a film strip of a movie; unstoppable, uncontrollable.

Has life always felt this fragile? Has time always passed at this pace?

It is in the early morning hours begging a wide-awake, screaming baby to fall back into his slumber that the question "Is this my forever?" runs through my head like a repetitious song lyric that I can't escape. But then I catch a glimpse of a moonlit shadow rocking on the crib wall, coaxing a little bundle side to side, and I think "I wouldn't mind if this is my forever." I will remember these hours with Mom Memory - forgetting the difficult and clinging to the beautiful. Those little blue eyes looking up at me, so trusting, so alert - untainted, innocent, in wonder with the world.

These moments feel sacred and I remember not to wish them away, even in the frustration and fury of "please just let me sleep." Our tiny little guy - only a month old - and even when I dream of him growing up, I just want him to stay this way forever.

Jack Benjamin Knisely

As a 7-year-old little Rebe, I eagerly anticipated the arrival of the monthly American Girl Doll catalogue. Using my own color-coded key, I circled the Felicity doll in rainbow jelly roll pens and begged my parents to somehow allow me to have her. I dreamt of her, read about her, hoped for her, and did extra chores in effort to save my allowance for her someday. Christmas Eve 1993, my Papa surprised me with a box I knew could only contain one item. In a flurry of surprise and joy, I flung open the lid to find those Felicity green eyes staring back at me. I held her all night long, whispering in her ear the adventures we would take together. That night, I constructed a tiny bassinet next to my bed and awoke every hour just to make sure she was still there, staring at her with a giant smile on my face. I couldn't believe she was here and she was mine.

For as long as I can remember, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew-up, I responded with Mother. Motherhood is a calling God placed on my heart from the beginning, and to step into it the past few weeks has brought a whirlwind of intensity -- both the greatest joy + the greatest fear.

It's hard to find words to accurately describe this past month... There was Life Before Jack and suddenly there is Life With Jack; life feels the same and yet completely different. My mind traces back and it feels like a vacuum of time; a blur of foreign emotions outpouring into this little human. An unconditional love that runs deep; an explosion of entirely new experiences that come with birthing a life into the world. The first few nights spent in the hospital, I found myself awake in thoughts and feelings spanning the spectrum of excitement, wonder, fear, guilt; hope, anticipation, empowerment, and a flashback to that similar feeling on Christmas 1993, looking next to my bed with a beaming smile knowing he was Ours Forever. The reality of the most wonderful gift right in front of me, which was now our job to sustain and protect; to teach and to grow.

We waited and waited for his arrival - 2 weeks and 1 day post-due-date. All the while, I wrestled with my adequacy as a Momma. Despite following the "natural induction" recommendations of Google - eating 6 dates a day, drinking copious amounts of red raspberry leaf tea, bouncing on the birth ball, getting adjusted at the chiropractor, and going for extended, rigorous walks - it did not seem to have any known effect on the coming of Baby Boy. Ben and I lived each day as "the last day of Just Us" - for two weeks. We beached, biked, and brunched; morning sleep-in's melted into early evening porch cocktails, the slow summer days layering thick before his arrival. We made three trips to Costco stocking up on hospital snacks and frozen meals with the intention of each trip being "our last trip to Costco" before he came - only to return and replenish the supply. We visited a natural doula who promised contractions with her acupressure and oils, only to find that our little guy still wasn't ready to come out yet. I dove deep into feelings of Not Good Enough and I'm Unequipped; questioning if there was something wrong with me because he wasn't here?! At a low point, I cried tears of wondering if God was playing a big joke on me - maybe there was just an oversized watermelon hanging out in there instead of a baby?! What I couldn't see then was that I was crossing over the first rite of passage into Motherhood - surrendering my plan and letting go of control. I told myself that he would come when he would come, on his own timeframe and when he was ready. But when 42 weeks hit, his eviction notice was clear... it was time to come out.

We traded our sweet, slow summer days Just Me & Benjamin for an even sweeter story that I didn't know could exist at the time.

Prior to Jack's arrival, I focused on everything we would be giving up... from sleeping in (I do love my sleep!) to our travel plans to doing whatever-we-wanted-when-we-wanted. In the moments of my deepest fear, I thought a baby would change us too much, perhaps even ruin us. Instead, what I have experienced so far is exactly the opposite. From labor to birth to bringing Jack into our home, I have witnessed the deep strength in the foundation of our marriage - our centered love for God and for what He has for us regardless of our own Plan. When I didn't think it was possible, I have fallen even more in love with Ben - a love that only grows from these moments that stand still in time. Seeing him as a father has broken and mended my heart in ways I didn't know it could. Our shared I'll-do-anything-for-you-Jack has brought a sense of teamwork, camaraderie, partnership, humor, and grace to our relationship. Only We share this magical love; Only We think this guy is perfect in every way; and Only We will fight for him the way he deserves. Parenting together will no doubt bring its obstacles, but for now it's nothing but bliss.

In spite of the tired eyes and the moments where I have no idea how to soothe his cries, I can honestly say that I have never been happier. Jack has brought a new perspective to life - he has brought a deeper understanding to the love of the Father, who would do anything for His Children, and an awe at the mystery of a child. There is nothing I wouldn't do for this little life in front of me; there is nothing I wouldn't sacrifice or give to him for his betterment and enjoyment of life. In that way, it is less of a sacrifice and more of an opportunity. The world is truly a better place with our Jack Benjamin Knisely!

Moved In!

The last few weeks have been a flurry of packing, moving, cleaning, prepping, coordinating, and finding new rhythms and routines to press into in a new environment. Waking up in the morning to the sun dancing along a new floor feels like a dream that someone will inevitably shake me from soon. When we first stepped into Hubbard Home, the vision for it was alive and tangible. Then the bathrooms were stripped to the studs and filled with a dirt hole, the walls became dust stored in the garage, and the floor turned to cement… and suddenly the finish line felt like an impossible future. Slowly, step-by-step, putting each piece back together built this home into what it is today… and now the past is something we have to recall from the recesses of our memory (*Do you remember the fourth shade of moldy shag carpet that used to fill this room?! Or the mauve tub and vanity? Or the acoustic ceiling? Or the nicotine-stained walls….?!)

Remembering builds gratitude for the journey and rest in the arrival. As humans, we are prone to forget. Even after freedom from the Egyptians, the Israelites looked back at their life in slavery with hopes and prayers to return. We idealize the past, fear the future, and forget the process. I forget the work of God in my life and lose sight of His faithfulness in search of the next best thing.

It is my commitment not to take this home for granted and to facilitate a home rooted in thankfulness. It is so easy to continue to focus on all that needs to get done, instead of resting in remembrance of how far we have come. In home ownership, a home is always and forever a work-in-progress. We need to carve out time to admire where it is now instead of focusing on the road ahead. For this reason, I hope that the images of orange shag, a plywood pantry, and leaky bathrooms are not forever replaced with the renovations I see now… that they remain alive in my mind so that I always remember the value of the Process.

As baby boy approaches his due date, I want to bring him into a home that overflows with deep gratitude. His room might not be completely finished, his drawers might not be organized, but that doesn’t matter. He has parents and community that love him and want the best for him. He has a roof over his head, and food to eat, and he will be the receiver of the cuddliest cuddles. These are the things that matter and where our energy will be directed in only a matter of weeks. Another crazy transition is upon us, but I think we are slowly getting ready to welcome it in… or as ready as we can be as people who have never done this before!

Floors are in! And making those windows pop!

Love this hallway vision. Fruit Lamp still goin strong.

The result of all my indecision led to more demo after the painter and drywaller and purchased shelves.
Very excited for the open shelf concept to be put in motion!

What is Ikea without soft-serve?!

The best human in the world!!! He stays up late every night working away at Ikea furniture and hardware installation and painting and moving boxes for me and providing for our growing family!

The Decisions

This past month has been a series of on-the-spot rapid-fire decisions. I am usually pretty good at this – I know what I want and I trust my instinct. However, halfway through the month, I felt my brain fogging up from multitasking all the decisions and suddenly I couldn’t make a single decision right or left. The thought process would go somewhat like: “I have always wanted this… but maybe I want that… what if I don’t really like this… what if I ultimately prefer that???”… followed by a frantic Pinterest search to confirm what I originally wanted anyways. The painter would be on the other line purchasing paint and I would be Instagram searching for the perfect white; the bathroom plumber would be installing the trim, as I am ordering a new color sink… all in between work and lunch breaks and after work and late night hours. It has been slightly more than chaos… as we predicted it would be.

Something to note about the Enneagram 3 is that we often lose sight of our heart’s desire when overwhelmed with voices telling us what we should do. We are pleasers who hate to disappoint; we are achievers who will never settle for less than best. In the quest for the Best and the commitment to adapting to every other persona and situation we find ourselves in (in order to feel safe and loved), we lose touch with ourselves. We forget our identity and our preferences. I have repeatedly wrestled with this process – I initially know what I want, but then others’ ideas cause me to doubt – but I ultimately end up exactly where I started.

Somewhere along the way, I learned to trust my inner voice and trust God telling me who I was. It is when I lose sight of Him that I get drowned in the sea of pleasing. It is when I let decisions about walls and floors dictate my day that I stray from the Truth of my identity. I am only found in Him; He is the Rock that helps me recognize who I am and where I am going. When I center my day on Him, wake up with a grateful heart and an eagerness for Him to speak, I am able to see it all so clearly.

On Saturday, we move. The quick decisions will be over. I will sit in the house and picture the space and daydream about the best piece for every corner. There will be time. Even after the baby comes, there will be time. A home is a process and a work in the making; it is one that is never fully complete because there is always The Next. 

As Ben has said, right now we have a House – but tomorrow we will make it a Home. Despite doorknobs and cabinet colors, Ben and I there together is all that really matters. Because Home is where we are together.

Then and Now

In the months leading up to my 8^th grade graduation, I remember looking around my room at night dreaming about what it could look like flipped and re-designed.

Although I loved my purple horse border with pink polka-dot accents, the lacey pillows, and dollhouse in the corner, I also felt the early quakes of a transition resonating deep within me; a new season approaching as I moved from middle school to high school, preempting the desire for something slightly more “grown-up.” I laid awake as sketches floated through my mind, dreams of demo-ing the peach-toned built-ins, shifting my bed to a new corner, and making space for a real dresser with an attached mirror. These are the things that kept me up at night and the only thing I could fixate on for months.

When my parents jumped on board, the Demo began – and also the tears. Seeing my bedroom ripped to shreds and sleeping on the floor of my brothers’ room was not in my vision of Room Updating. One night as my dad was sledgehammering down the shelves that previously housed the horse figurines and American Girl Dolls of my youth, I ran across the hall and cried to my mom, heaving out phrases of how this was a huge mistake – I never should’ve redone my room because now it was ruined! I would inevitably be sleeping on the floor of my brothers’ room for life because there was no way it would ever be accomplished. In this moment, she patiently sat me down and reassured me that the construction phase is the hardest part and understandably difficult, but once it gets finished, the vision comes alive. In my “this is forever” mindset, she reminded me that it might feel like that now, but it has to get worse before it gets better.

I have returned to this moment over and over and over again – through Texas moves and Chicago home redesigns – my two San Diego homes and most recently our Hubbard Home fixer phase. Learning to deconstruct in order to reconstruct has allowed me to absorb the process and even learn to enjoy it. As an organized-Type A-recovering-perfectionist, this does not come natural to me. I want the Result – I want the perfect finish – I want everyone to see the beautiful. I don’t naturally stand in peaceful rest through the in-between because I doubt my decisions and second-guess the options in hopes of uncovering The Best.

And then I remember sitting in the mess of my 8^th Grade Room as tears flowed onto a bedspread of sawdust, gazing at my room construction site through blurry eyes, with a complete lack of hope in the ability for anything to be better. This despondent moment became one of great delight a few months later, as I chose colors and furniture and a new rug for my room. It all came together and the dream came to life and the construction zone was a thing of the past. When it was all finished, it seemed silly to think it ever felt impossible.

As we enter the season of becoming a family, it only makes sense to usher it in with full force – stripping a home to studs and building it back up allows us to leave the past season behind and embrace the change of the new. The timing feels significant in preparation for the learning curve that’s about to come with a newborn and family of three. It’s all scary, but it feels so right. I am filled with doubt, but also confidence. I hold onto the moments of my past to collect myself in deep breaths and remember this is meaningful work and it is leading somewhere. A bathroom that finally has tiles helps, too.

“Men are never duly touched and impressed with a conviction of their insignificance, until they have contrasted themselves with the majesty of God.”

// R.C Sproul, via Crazy Love by Francis Chan

There is a danger in getting wrapped up in My World right now… this chaotic, constant-decision-making, Pinterest-board-making, baby-transitioning world with its abyss of questions and unknowns. I agonize over floor colors and wake up at night after dreams of the roof caving in… I check the budget spreadsheets and timelines as little baby moves about beneath me, wondering if he will indeed have a home in 3 weeks. I watch as the piles of onesies and bottles grow on the bed of our guest room, unorganized and haphazardly tossed aside until they have a nursery to belong to and a baby to use them.

But then I stop. I take time to pause and breathe and look to God. I remember His Graciousness, His Love, His Majesty… and suddenly all these decisions feel minute in the scheme of His Greatness. He is with us and He has given us so much in this season – community, family, the gift of a new home and people to help us with it. He has been in every decision and has led us around every corner that felt blind and impossible. Yes, He cares about the details and the wonders of my heart… but He also is here claiming me as His, desiring for me to trust Him with all these things – to look to Him as He pulls me further into his grace. He knows the stress, but He asks for the gratitude.

The point of it all is always & forever His Glory. I want to remember that… I want to rest in the assurance that He holds the universe in His hands. I want to look at Him with a heart of unending Thank You’s  instead of complaints. I choose gratitude over fear and steadfastness over anxiety. Do I know that He is a good, good Father who brings delight to His children? I want my response to be one of resounding thanks for all He has given us in this season and for all that is to come. He is so so good.

Sometimes, it's the Pipes

When I initially considered the renovations for our Hubbard Home, it seemed so matter-of-fact: floors and paint. As long as we put in new floors and paint everything white, our home will be beautiful, livable, and feel close to new.

Fast forward to last week when our bathroom walls were stripped to studs and 2x4’s, exposing rotted pipes laying in the dirt, crumbled and corroded after 40+ years of minimal usage… suddenly it’s no longer Floors & Paint. It has now evolved into copper pipes, rerouted plumbing, and a deep trench of dirt and uprooted cement outside our home.

From the beginning, I dreaded tapping into the walls, fearful of what we might find there. I was afraid that perhaps there was more work needed that I simply wanted to ignore. Can’t we just focus the funds on the part that makes the house look good?! How bad can it be for bathrooms to drain into the dirt?! I focus so much on the aesthetic that I ignore the functionality of what lies within.

But what good is the beauty of the outside if the inside is rotting?!

While I want to focus on the light fixtures, flooring, brass accents, and subway tile, I forget that if the pipes aren’t working, all of that is useless. Our home could flood and our flooring could crumble; our kitchen could overflow and our bathrooms could back-up. All the crown molding and accent colors and gold hardware are useless at that point.

Walking with God isn’t something I can show-off or prove on the outside. He changes and refines our heart in a gentle, non-glamorous way. He renovates the functionality of how we work, instead of the pieces of us that others see. I get lost in appearance; I want to show who I am to the world without digging to the deeper, scary layers that lie behind. What am I scared of?!

If there’s anything I hope to give to our son, it’s a sense of power in vulnerability; a willingness to peel back the layers and explore the heart. A softness and grace towards his shadow, and a strength in his own weakness. I realize this is a discipline I have to first know within myself in order for it to be passed to him.

I hope to remember our lessons in these weeks of work within Hubbard Home. Because sometimes it’s more about the pipes than anything else.

Demo Days

Bearing sledgehammers and power tools, we entered into Hubbard Home yesterday ready to take our spreadsheets and middle-of-the-night conversations to the walls. Before entering, Ben gently reminded me that “It always gets worse before it gets better.” I was hesitant that Hubbard had any margin to actually “get worse,” as the initial improvements from yesterday made it only look better! However, as we took down the panel board in the master bedroom to discover a painted bull on the wall complete with bullet marks through the horns, I realized that what lies behind the naked eye does in fact have the potential to get worse. Only moments after standing with arms crossed and puzzled looks in front of the bull, our neighbor Phyllis stopped in to tell us our former homeowner Old Man Turner actually housed 148 guns in that room. We are hoping that perhaps there are some stored in the walls that we will find for house renovation cash… but so far no luck.

After our discovery of Mr. Bull, it confirmed our decision to extend the master closet and flip the entrance to the bathroom from the hallway to the bedroom. These are thoughts we had originally tossed around, but because of our timeframe and funds, we didn’t know how deep we could go into the hole of fixer-upper. Let’s just say that Mr. Bull has brought me luck in providing the perfect set-up for a larger closet!

Upon buying this home, we knew it was an adventure of unknowns that would unfold as time moved forward. There was part of me that dreaded the renovation process because of the unknowns and the fear that everything will take much longer than expected – which pushes back our finish line, tardies our move-in date, which ultimately gets closer and closer to Baby Time. (Do you feel my blood pressure rising?!) However, as Ben hammered down beams, sawed off drywall, and crowbarred the built-ins, I realized how fun the process is to see unfold. Each piece of the demo makes it more exciting and makes the vision feel that much more attainable.

The process feels like chaos right now – it feels like a distant future we might never see. There is one remaining toilet in our home held together only by the beams and studs that surround its future home. When it feels impossible, I take a deep breath and remember to trust. I lean into Ben, my best teammate, and know that him and I are in it together. I am so grateful for his partnership and support – (and also his hunky demo vibes.) I would go anywhere with him and I’m so glad that this is where we are going together.

The Third Tri

Truth be told, I have not embraced pregnancy the way I thought I would for most of the months. Beyond battling with the thought of “our whole life is about to change…” I dread the inevitable body shifting – stretch marks, veins, extra weight, swollen feet – that come with it. I fear getting so big that I waddle or never finding a comfortable sleep position or getting up every hour to use the bathroom or not fitting into any of my old clothes ever again… I have carried so much fear in what’s to come with the idea of perhaps I won’t ever return to my “normal self,” maybe this is just who I am now.

But there is something about the third trimester… a conversion that took place; an opening up to this new season with the release of my fists and the gaze of my eyes on the beauty through the sacrifice. While the first trimester was filled with shock and slight depression and the second trimester was consumed with questions and birth anxieties, the third trimester has been defined by hope and joy-filled anticipation. Opening up cute tiny things and generous gifts at my first baby shower on Saturday made the truth of this little life and the celebration for the arrival of our guy feel real. His daily tosses and turns are met with the thought of “I can’t wait to see who you are!” while my apprehensions regarding giving birth have been replaced with a newfound strength and confidence. I was made to do this! I feel alive in my body now more than I ever have before – a sense of awe with the empowerment of the female and wonder of God’s great gift of life. I am no longer convincing myself to feel these things that I think I am “supposed” to feel – I sense a rootedness from my mind to my heart – God’s presence, His joy, and the expectancy of all to come.

I no longer hide this giant secret inside or am given the questionable looks of “did she just eat a giant burrito?” Strangers smile on the street and ask me when I’m due; they tell me how wonderful it is to have children, and willingly unfold the stories of their own births. I realize that I am not alone – I join the chorus of women who have gone before me; there is an unspoken union bonding me to those I don’t know. The mutual understanding that takes place female to female saying “I get it. I’ve been there. It’s amazing. You can do it!” I am stepping into the true blessing of it all, the gift of life, and learning to surrender it all to God in the process.

I anticipate the magic of what’s to come – even though it is unknown and scary – I don’t feel afraid of it any longer. I don’t want to undo or cancel or pretend it’s not happening. The moment this baby enters the world will be even more beautiful because of the process of his growth inside of me. Isn’t that how life is? The “goal” is never truly about the goal; it is always and forever the process of getting there. And God has had me on a unique journey tailored only for me because of how He knows my deep needs – holding my hand, gently guiding me, and teaching me to look to Him through it all.

Best Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe Ever

I do not claim to be anything close to a food blogger or food artist... But I do consider myself pretttty close to a chocolate chip cookie connoisseur. I have a go-to recipe that I have been using every since living with my dear friend Betsy - her secret? The oatmeal cookie recipe underneath the Quaker Oats box! In our home, these are termed The Betsy Cookies.

But yesterday, I saw my friend Esther post about this recipe... and my mouth started watering at work. I had no choice but to go home and make them.

And they might be my new favorite!!! The important thing about these cookies is to actually follow the directions (which is usually my problem with cooking...). The way the butter melts and the sugar is combined and the flaky grade of Kosher salt and the patience to refrigerate... it all adds up to making these cookies perfection.

Look no further - HERE it is!

Looking Back and Moving Forward

With the third trimester weeks seeming to fly by so fast, I have been getting more and more tears thinking of the moment Ben and I become a family of three. It seems that there are two focal moments in most women’s lives - her wedding day and the birth of her first child. Since as far back as I can remember, I have been curious about these two events – what they would look, feel, be like? In some ways I can predict what it will feel like to have a child – maybe like falling in love or the kind of heartache you feel when you care for someone even deeper than they can ever know. But in most ways, I have no idea what it will be like – that feeling of This is Our Family, this is Who We Are, We Are Now Three – and You Are The Human who has been inside me for nine months – You have been developing in there all along and now You exist in the outside world! I have always wanted to be a mom and have a family, and it feels surreal that this time is approaching so quickly.

Last night at our Community Group, I sat next to a college student as we chatted about her roommates and post-college goals and hopes for graduation. She mentioned that she has no idea what it’s like to not be a student – to be a working professional in the world “like me.” She mentioned how she wants to be mentored by people in different life stages – “older people in their 30’s.” I am the older girl in my 30’s, and yet it feels like yesterday I was sitting in her shoes… the blind 21-year-old filled with dreams of what life could look like and no idea how it would unfold. I forget that I am no longer that person. I remember looking at women in their 30’s with babies, thinking that life stage was so far away and would most likely never be near. It catches me off-guard when confronted with the reality that I am no longer who I used to be… the recent Baylor grad jetting off to Spain and wondering when my husband would come along. I have a husband and an expecting baby and now a house that we actually own… When and how did I encounter all these rare and beautiful gifts?!

In some ways I know that I will always be that girl – walking and writing her way through Spain, figuring out life in downtown Chicago, road-tripping across the country heading west – because it is what makes me who I am today and has formed my journey of transformation. In other ways, I am so deeply grateful I have shed so many layers of my old self, the fierce independence and shaming voice of perfection and rigid control of my time. Change is hard, but also so beautiful. I feel fulfilled, loved, and abundantly thankful for life exactly where it is in this moment – with all the mysteries and questions and unknowns that lie ahead. Life holds inevitable change providing an opportunity for growth as we reflect on who we are, where we come from, and where we are going.

I love moments like these, causing me to look back on the journey and recognize God’s faithfulness and very near presence. Life rolls forward and carries on; but without reflection and remembrance it is void of a deeply thankful heart. I am so different now than I used to be… and sometimes I want to cling to who I was or re-create/long for those moments when everything felt perfect. But I know that it is in moving forward – one step at a time – that life offers even richer moments of joy and contentment.

As this little guy kicks inside me, I am reminded of how God forms life and offers new mercies every morning. It is day-by-day as we seek Him that our journey of transformation happens… it is the habits we create, the people we encounter, the focus of our thoughts, the commitments of our time, the spending of our money… it is in these seemingly overlooked moments that we are formed, that this child will be shaped, and that our family culture will be developed.

When I slide back into my nostalgic-sentimental-weepy self, Ben grounds me in the reminder that “it only gets better.” His words could not be more true… and looking back on life only proves it over and over and over again.

The Calm, Right Now

To most accurately reference this slice of time, Ben and I have been using the saying "the calm before the storm"... because we know with closing, Demo Day, renovations, moving, and baby, it's all about to get completely crazy. As if it hasn't already ;) 

Since Ben gets back from Europe the day after we close, and we are on a strict 1-month deadline before moving in... the demo starts in a week. For this reason, we soaked in a slow morning in La Jolla yesterday, sipping iced coffee, eating pancakes, and walking on the beach. In these moments I often wonder if life gets any better... these minutes that seem to melt away under the footsteps in the sand and the panoramic beauty of cliffs and sea. Walking hand-in-hand with Benjamin, I am made safe - remembering that no matter what, we have each other. This is exactly what life is about. There's nowhere else to be and nothing more important in this time that I wish I could freeze forever.

I think about little baby (who we have nicknamed bbnize for now...) growing inside and I wonder what life will look like with him here. While I know so many of the obvious things will change - sleep, mainly - I wonder how the inside of me will change... how my heart will transform, what my thoughts will be about, and how my deeper desires and passions may alter. Those are the changes that seem more unpredictable; the ones I can only know as I walk through it. 

I also wonder how much of life will continue to feel strangely unchanged. There have to be aspects of each day that fall back into normal routine, right?! So many new moms focus on the things that seem so different, but what about those that stay the same? I might be experiencing a major identity and role shift, but I'll still be me, right?! 

It will be an interesting course to walk this next month - in the predictable lies the unpredictable; in the fear lies the growth; and in the questions lie the journey. Even though my dreams circle around re-tiling bathrooms and open-shelving, I will attempt to soak in the minutes of calm that I can steal before life feels like more of a storm. As we continue to learn, it is through the rain that we experience His glory; even when it's not our plan, we would still choose the rain knowing the richness of unexpected joy that lies within it.

Fear of the Unknown

I have arrived at the realization that it is not Change I fear, it is the Unknown. After a phone call from Ben yesterday regarding possible pipe malfunctioning underneath our Hubbard Home, it felt like my dreams of subway tile and wood floors were a distant faraway fantasy, unattainable and definitely costlier. The feeling of “what else is there that we don’t know about and can’t see?” slipped into my head with every circumstance - will we not have water or electricity… will we tear down a wall and have the whole house cave in? What if we are walking into a money pit that cannot be saved by paint and wood floors alone?!

And then returning to our perfect little newlywed home on Adams Ave, where the coffeeshop is on the corner and the park is a 5-minute walk away… it felt foolish that we would want to leave this life. It felt silly that we would step into a heap of unchartered territory only months before navigating even more unknowns with our first baby… I longed to return to the free feeling of a renter who can leave at any minute and not be held responsible for the breaks in plumbing.

The question of “Is this really the right decision right now?!” circled in and out of my thoughts. How do we know we are doing the right thing? Should I feel more excited and less stressed?

But when we listed out the Pros and Cons on paper (as Ben patiently sat with me, listened, and loved me through all the sobs…), it was obvious that the reasons we would choose to stay in our Idaho Home are because we know it. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, and it’s Us right now. The reasons we fear moving are not just the pipes – but the unknowns we will encounter along the way. I doubt my capabilities and I doubt my own resilience to stand up to a mountain of tasks and achieve what I thought couldn’t be done. I want to avoid the process and arrive at the end result – stepping into a perfectly re-done home that turns from rags to riches overnight to complete the vision I saw the day I stepped into Hubbard Home. But it takes work along the way; work that will inevitably grow and strengthen us because of the Unknowns, not in spite of them.

Can I trust that God is present with us there as He is here? Do I truly know that no matter what, He will provide for us; that He is ultimately guiding our steps and writing our story?

Like our Hubbard Home, there is a lifetime in front of us filled with questions and unknowns. Entering into marriage meant saying yes to the mysteries that come our way, knowing that we are in it together as a team and at the end of the day, that is Enough. Ben and I, relying on one another, looking to Christ, knowing that His Promises are always true, good, and For Us. Yes, we are stepping into this home blind to what we will find, but isn’t that life?! While I want to cling to the predictability and routine, the better part of me knows that the journey is always worth it – its mountains and valleys transforming me and rooting my identity further into who God has made me to be.

We step into this new season with hopeful hearts; whatever we find along the way will build us, not tear us apart. It won’t always adhere to our plan or work out our way, and that is something I need to surrender. Like the rain on our wedding day, somehow God always makes what feels like The Worst Thing Ever into the most incredible gift.

It seems to be a lesson I need to learn and re-learn – and will continue to learn every day… especially in the next few months! God is humbling me and refining me; He is making me more like Him in showing me how to open my hands and ask for His guidance. It seems to be a process through which I will never fully arrive; and maybe that’s the whole point.

Are We Crazy?!

For purchasing a home [7 months pregnant] that has...

Bathrooms like this....

And this...

A yard like this...

Lighting fixtures like this...

Carpet like this...

Walls like this...

BUT - a backyard canyon view like THIS!

We might be...

But I guess time will tell! It's the risk you take as a first time homeowner. We have no idea what we are signing up for - we have no idea what we will find behind the holes in the walls - but we know that no matter what, we are in it together. It will be a project and it will be a whole new adventure. And that is the thrill of it all!

Weekend Babymoon

There are moments lately where I want to freeze time and force it to stand still forever. In this third trimester, we feel the push and pull of the In-Between even greater; anticipation for all to come as a family of three, while simultaneously trying to cherish the time we have left Just Us.

After a Saturday morning of coffee and beach with friends, we headed up north to the Park Hyatt Aviara for a 1-night getaway. The Park Hyatt is special for us because we have gone each year since we have known each other – and we even stayed there on our wedding night! With the lush green foliage and swaying palms, the Park Hyatt is nothing short of a slice of Hawaii. Over and over again we find ourselves saying that we are so thankful to live in a place where we can vacation (also – that’s why we pay the price to live here!). We fall more and more in love with San Diego every day – it never seems to get old!

And there is something about being away with Benjamin that is so so special. Even if it is only 40 miles north of where we live - for just one night - these times together are ones that grow us in adventure, intentionality, laughter, intimacy, and gratitude. I am more and more aware of the ways that Ben is completely perfect for me – not perfect of course (nobody is!), but perfect for me. I am amazed that I get to walk life with him. He is the man I have prayed for all my life, and it still feels like a dream that he’s here beside me. All those years of waiting were worth it x1000000. If I could go back in time to tell myself one thing – that would be it. It’s always worth the wait.

Hotel Life

29 weeks!

This place is heaven.

Am I Enough?

Ever since I can remember, the sneaky critical question of “Am I enough?” has churned in my brain. It infuses so many small and large decisions… sometimes it debilitates me and fogs my brain when I have to take a step forward or back. I doubt my capacities and fear that perhaps I am not equipped for whatever is coming in the future.

While I reflect and seek counsel and spend time in prayer, I have come to understand this voice. I sense when it’s there and I try to remember God’s truth. Lately, with this little guy growing inside me, I feel this familiar question circling back to me again. Am I giving my best right now? Am I a good wife and daughter and friend and soon-to-be mother? Am I going to be good at moving and having a baby all at once? Am I eating healthy enough food that is going to grow this child? What if I’m not? Am I ruining his life? Will I be good at this mothering thing… even before I am really a Mother? And then: What if I’m not good enough to do any of this to begin with?!

The newest song from Sleeping At Last about the Enneagram Three (The Achiever) has put so many words to my thoughts rising to the surface. In the headlong rush to achieve what I feel will make me more valuable, I often become alienated from myself so that I forget who I am – I forget my true feelings and interests and core values. I become dependent on receiving praise from others based on the values that I think will bring reward. In this process, I lose touch with myself. My “heart’s desire” is left behind in the fluster of action, achievement, and making everything I touch be successful. I forget what I want and I am unable to confidently move forward into any of it – which makes me shut down, doubt, and want to leave it all behind.

Today, God reminded me of Phil 1:6: “And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”

As I strive to be recognized, to be a higher achiever, to be appreciated as “the best” in everything I do, I remember that God is actually the one doing the work – not me. HE began the work and HE brings it to completion. It is not based on my efforts or my version of success or being good enough to be loved and accepted – He reminds me that I already am. He began the work in my life and He will continue to refine it. Also, He is with me in the process and will never lead me anywhere He won’t provide.

There is something about moving to a new home that brings a new form of excitement and curiosity and wonder.

While I often find myself lost in daydreams of open shelving and hanging light fixtures, I am also in a new place of embracing the ingress of a new season. Moving inevitably entails a life change – a prompting to begin again and an ushering into a new season. Merging our lives together on Adams Ave last year naturally precipitated the season of marriage. As we settled into new routines together - seeking out the perfect pieces on OfferUp, constructing a kitchen nook, installing a projector - it made our lives as One feel real. It wasn’t perfect right away, but the physical process of making a Home together mirrored our lives intertwining as a team.

It feels right to be moving alongside stepping into motherhood - into a home that is really Ours; knowing that we can settle into it with years there together. I sense a renewed anticipation for our baby boy’s entrance to the world, a feeling of “We are doing this for you and we can’t wait for you to make Our Home complete!”

While there will certainly be waves of stress that come with renovating a home and getting everything ready for the baby while eight months pregnant (ie: asking Ben to get everything ready for the baby…), I also know that it is not completely on my shoulders. This weekend, Ben and I strolled through Home Depot, analyzing baseboards and flush handles and shower hardware… together we found that it’s actually more fun than stressful. We have such a privilege to be in a position to get to do these things together!

While it might feel like chaos in May (the people have forewarned us…), it is the kind of transition that is good practice to undergo when ushering in a deep sense of Change. When multiple changes happen at once, each synchronous change tends to feel just slightly more habitual. Of course, I rely on my mom and her love of all things projects in this season, as well! Not quite sure what I would do without family… feeling a new profundity of gratitude each day before our little one arrives.