Dear friend

Friendship. Something I've always longed for and yet, seemed to struggle with, my whole life. My first friendship that I remember meaning anything to me was when I was quite young. Her name was Brittany and her parents were close with mine during their college years. The crowning moment of our friendship happened one day when she bit me because I tried to take the coloring book away from her when we were coloring together! Haha. But shortly after, my parents graduated and we moved away from her. I had other friendships: my neighbor, another daughter of my parents close friends, a girl I went to school with, but when I was 9 years old, we again moved away and life changed yet one more time. New friendships needed to be made, but this time in a different culture. You see, when I was 9, we moved across the world! This wasn't a normal, run of the mill, I'll see ya when I'm passing through move, it was serious business! It didn't take long until I made new friends and it didn't take long for another move. Finally, it felt like I got to settle down a little and I became friends with my Lewasuka. We were so close, she lived with me throughout most of high-school. We loved, fought, protected and acted like sisters. She is a sister of my heart. Her daughter is named after me, my son after her. Her children are my parents' adopted grandchildren and their home is "home" to both her and me. She is the hinge on which all my friendships hang. She is the standard they have to live up to. She also lives half the world away from me and we haven't talked in over a year. Talk about friendship problems! You see, another move happened and with it, almost irreparable heartbreak.

I've spent most of my adult life in search of the perfect friend. I've prayed for, begged for, cried for and almost gave up on this desire. Don't feel too sorry for me though, I have my best friend in my husband and my best sister friend too, but I really wanted to find my "girls". You know, the ones that you laugh with, get silly with, get and give advice, talk about everything under the sun with...you know...the girls. For years, I thought this was an elusive concept dreamt up in my head. I thought true friendship was only obtained in high school and left behind. I began to lament that I was too damaged to even open myself up to this desire...because the only women I found myself surrounded by were either backstabbers or going to move away!

Just 4 years ago, my life kind of changed. My husband and I changed pretty much everything significant about our lives and through that change, new people were brought into our lives. I didn't know it then, but some of the people would become so significant to me, they would change my perspective on the world, they would challenge my heart and thoughts, they would become some of the most genuine people I could ever know. Yes, my prayers were answered! But not exactly how I had prayed.

You see, for years, my prayers were selfish. All about me. I wanted....I needed...I, I, I. But these people I have met, they haven't come though me being selfish. They came when I opened myself up. I had to start talking. I had to start sharing and caring. I had to start being friendly and open and honest. I had to ask about them. I had to find out their favorite things. I had to find out about their likes and dislikes. And in return, I get the same! You see, because of true friendship, I've learned how to love and be loved.

They aren't stuck with me. They didn't date me and only see my good side and decide to marry me for better and for worse like my husband....he's stuck with me! I wasn't born into their family, destined to annoy them forever, like my sisters....they're stuck with me, too! No, they can go at anytime. They can write me off and because of that, sadly, I've learned what caring about someone means. So, I'll take this time to apologize to my husband and all other friends I've ever had before...I'm sorry I was selfish. Only looking to get when I should have cared more about giving!

I never knew what friendship was about until I became a true friend. I never knew the joy that could be found in making someone a meal, or packing and unpacking boxes, or picking up a chai tea latte (or caramel macchiato) and leaving it on a doorstep just to brighten someone's gloomy day. I never knew what it felt like to open the door to flowers or banana muffins that brightened my gloomy day either. But it's not just about things...it's about being able to sit in a car for hours, talking, laughing or even crying, about things that really matter....or things that really don't matter! It's about texting someone the mundane parts of your life, just because you know she understands. It's about knowing you can go plop your booty on someone's couch and just talk for hours...and they want you there!! It's about admitting the ugly truth about marriage and parenting and getting a "you too??!!" in response. It's about telling silly stories and planning coffee dates and dreaming of getaways to Miami. It's about telling each other hard truths during difficult times, it's about admitting your sins during Priscilla Shirer bible studies, it's about road trips that turn into therapy sessions that could possibly save your marriage one day.

So, thank you, dear friend. For everything. Thank you for teaching me, accepting me, loving me and making me a better child of God, wife, mommy, sister, daughter and friend. You have made a huge impact in my life, huger than you know.

xoxo

Let's get real

Why is it so hard to be real? What's the matter with transparency. We all want it, don't we? We want our leaders to be transparent. We want our spouses, kids, friends, enemies to tell us everything. So, why do we keep everything in our own lives hidden away from the sight of everyone? Is it because we're afraid we'll be judged, misconceived, thought less of? Or is it because we're afraid we'll appear weak or vulnerable? Or maybe, is it because we're raised to portray perfection in our lives?

I've had the curse and privilege to be around some difficult situations lately. The curse because it is heartbreaking stuff and the privilege because it's not everyday you get to see beauty in the midst of ashes. I've held the hand of a mother losing her baby. Literally cleaned up the mess. Cried tears of sadness and anger, I've questioned God and His infinite wisdom. And yet learned from her as she says in sadness "I don't know why, but I know God".

"Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him" Job said. Job, the man stripped of all earthly "good", choose to trust.

There is great rest in trust.

Trust. But how can you truly trust, if you can't be open. How can you place your life in the hands of something or Someone bigger than yourself when you're hiding half of who you are. How can you testify of that trust to others when you're more worried of testifying to the greatness of your life?

I recently sat in a circle of ladies discussing this exact topic. It was refreshing to hear some of them speak about how tough life is. Why is this so refreshing to me? Is it because I'm a negative person that only wants to hear the bad stuff? I've had to search my heart since that night asking that question. And I really truly don't think that is it. I think it's so refreshing because I crave intimacy. I crave openness and realness more than anything. And the most intimate parts of our lives are the parts that are messy. We are most real in our brokenness. We are most authentic when we are completely vulnerable and fully stripped of the fake.

When you say you struggle, you're inviting others to peer into your life. When you say you "just can't", you're opening up the windows into the situation.

Friendship is hard.
Marriage is messy.
Raising kids is horrible sometimes.
Money issues suck the life out of your emotions.
Trusting in God isn't always easy.
Being happy all the time is unobtainable.
Divorce is difficult.
Infertility is heartbreaking.
Sickness is infuriating.
Death is scary and not easily understood.
Single parenthood is exhausting.
Being single is not always fun.

We have multiple hangups in life and slapping a smile on our face all the time is doing us and others a disservice. Going back to Job, you know, he really is such an amazing example to me. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt I would have cursed God and turned my back to Him. I'm not proudly saying that, it is with great shame I admit that. But wow! Job! He truly trusted that while he might not understand what God was doing, he knew the God in whom his trust was placed. God was an anchor for his soul. He didn't hide his sadness or curb his questions. He didn't smile and wave. He trusted. He trusted that God was good, despite being in a tornado of what seemed bad. If he had just smiled and pretended he was excited about losing his children and his life fortune, would we have those penned words? Job was authentic. Job was transparent. Job got it.

"Though it may be a time of weeping and mourning, I can look forward to a time of dancing and laughter". The words of a mother who was told her baby would never be placed in her arms, but in the presence of an almighty, everlasting, all knowing God instead. If she never shared her sadness, her testimony of faith would never encourage others.

I'm not saying you need to write a novel each day of your highs and lows, I'm just saying being true and real is much more encouraging than seeing a fake smile. I find comfort in realness. Because reality isn't always sad. With lows come highs. And how high are those highs when we see how far from the valley we've come? How great is our God when we can say, "I trust in you because you've always been faithful, even in the hard times". Lay it all out there for the world to see, because then they'll get to see the true Object of your faith. The anchor for your soul. The reason that within sadness and difficulty is true beauty.

Why my children matter

I've debated this in my head for weeks, I've gone back and forth, I've outlined it, started writing it and stopped several times, but today I was sent over the edge and I need to say my piece (or peace)!!! I started the day reading a ridiculous article about this topic and ended it reading the personal story of my sister's coworker, that faced blatant racism in my very own town. I've been told I'm too outspoken on this topic and that I should give people "the benefit of the doubt", but I'm done. I'm done sitting on the sidelines allowing people to think they're being loving when actually they're spreading nothing but hurt and frustration.

Almost 10 years ago I married a black man. I am white. This makes me no expert on racial matters and I don't claim to be. I don't think I understand the struggles black people face in today's society. I can't understand the struggles black people face in today's society. And that breaks my heart, because 7 years ago I gave birth to a very tiny half black baby boy and my life was changed forever. 18 months after that day, I gave birth to another half black baby boy and 16 months later, their beautiful half black baby sister came along. And so here we are, black man, white woman and three of the most precious, gorgeous half back half white children you'll ever see, living happily ever after.

We've endured people peering into our car at a stop light. We've put up with stares at restaurants. I've had people ask to touch my children's hair, or just loudly comment on how crazy it looks. My husband and I have hardly ever NOT been asked if we're on the same check when it comes to paying for our food at a restaurant. I've been asked if they're all "mine" or if I'm the nanny. I've been treated poorly when using WIC checks to get formula and treated REALLY poorly when using WIC checks to get formula with my child in the cart. We were casually told people left our church when our pastor allowed us to get married there. I've been asked if all of my children had the same last name and then if their name was my last name while registering them for a church function. And the list goes on...

You might say these are all coincidence, and maybe some of them are, but I ask you to rack your brain and come up with a list of incidences like the above and see how many you can come up with. I can almost guarantee, if you consist of an all white family, it will be considerably less. And if you're an all black family, my list might pale in comparison to yours.

Hey listen, I get it. ALL LIVES MATTER. I agree, they do. I get it, you're poor and have no privilege in life. I understand! I get it, you've been pulled over for seemingly no reason, too. I GET IT. But listen, that doesn't change anything!!! It doesn't change the FACT that racism exists and it rears its ugly head all too often. It doesn't change the reality that the police get called because a dark skinned man is sitting in a car outside his friends house waiting for them to come home. It doesn't change the truth that in rural Missouri, a black satellite installation technician is consistently scored low on customer satisfaction surveys when he is consistently scored high while working in urban markets.

Maybe you just don't understand, and that is okay, because you can't understand! Because whether you like it or not, you're white and therefore automatically "privileged" to never have to encounter certain situations. It's not your fault that you were born white, no one is blaming you for your circumstance of birth. It's not even your fault you were born with this privilege. What IS your fault is your failure to even try to understand this current situation. It is your fault if you cannot admit there is a problem that needs to be fixed. It is your fault if your response to this type of conversation is anger and/or defensiveness.

Now back to my babies. Something HAS to change. Because I don't want them to grow up in this!!!!! I can't handle thinking about them ever being hurt by ignorant words because of the skin color they didn't choose to be born with. I don't want to have to tell them to be extra careful or more respectful to people in charge, just because they might be harder on them, or see them as a threat (I will teach them to be respectful, but I mean EXTRA respectful). They shouldn't have to deal with prejudice and hatred. Just like your kids shouldn't, neither should mine!

Listen, my babies lives MATTER!!!!! Be the change in the world so that one day, when they're older, these conversations aren't needed. Don't trivialize their lives with memes and hatred. Don't turn your head and say everything is fine and I'm imagining things. Don't put your dukes up ready for a fight. Realize that you don't have all the answers. Educate yourself. Ask others to educate you.

Because these lives matter!!!!

Why can't I love this moment?!

From the moment you heard that cry or saw that face and melted inside, to the moment 5 minutes ago when you wanted to run screaming, A LOT has changed. You've change. They've changed. Your marriage has changed. Your bank account has dwindled, I mean, changed. Your tired level has gone so far off the charts "changed" isn't even an appropriate word to describe the evolution that has taken place. Everything has changed!

You brought the baby to your house. You held her. You cried tears of joy. And then she cried. So you hushed her gently while ever so slightly bouncing her up and down. The wails became louder. You got up, started walking around. You sang a song. You offered her some milk. You sat back down. She refused the food and screamed louder. You rubbed her back, you rubbed her tummy, you started praying. You offered her your fortune in life. You promised her you'd never refuse her anything in life if she would JUST STOP CRYING!!!!

"You'll miss it when she's grown". "Enjoy the moment, good and bad, because one day the bad won't seem so bad and the good will seem better!". "You should be thankful for every moment".

We've all heard these and more and at first we shook our heads and thought, "you know, I really SHOULD be enjoying these crying moments, she won't always be this small and cry without telling me why or what she needs. I should be a better mom and be more in tune with my baby so I can know her every need before she even indicates she's uncomfortable!". We're so gung-ho about this mommyhood life that we put these crazy expectations on ourselves. And we're bound to fail. But, you know, we have to enjoy every moment. That other lady told me so!

Except, you don't. You don't enjoy the panic that creeps up inside you when you can't get your baby to stop crying. You don't enjoy being awake 22 out of the 24 hours in the day. You don't enjoy the dirty house. You don't enjoy never having a moment to shower. You don't enjoy the poop up the back, the poop out the side, the poop down the leg. The poop!

And then they grow and new hard days come. The attitudes. The hands on the hip, "I don't think so mommy" look in the eyes, "NO!". The fingers under the bathroom door and the wails, if heaven forbid, you LOCK it. You know, to poop! The eye rolls. The screaming. The crying. The tattling. And that strange obsession your 7 year old has with pursing his lips and talking....oh maybe that's just me.

Moving on...

You're just not enjoying it. But why?! You're supposed to be! One day you're going to wake up at 5:30am in tears because you aren't being awakened by littles. Right? Right?! RIGHT?!!!!!!

I don't know about you, but I know I will NEVER be awake at 5:30 crying about not being woken up. Because 5:30 is the middle of the night, and I'm normal. And normal people sleep in the middle of the night. I'm also never going to miss my son tattling on his little sister 80 times a day.

Yes, I'm going to miss the snuggles and the kisses. The "I love you, mommy" moments. The "will you hold me?" times. I'm going to miss holding that sleeping baby and seeing that smile (or gas, as they say) spread across his face (who am I kidding, I already miss that!). I'll miss the pictures they draw for me, I'll miss the look in their eye when they figure something out that they've been curious about for a while. The silly stories, the laughter, the tickling.

There will be plenty I will miss. But listen momma....don't pressure yourself to love the hard moments. They're hard. And if any mom tries to tell you they didn't want to run away and leave their crying baby behind, because it was 4am and you've been awakened every 30 minutes since 10pm, they're big fat liars! If anyone tells you they never cried and wanted to give up because their nipples were actually literally cracked and bleeding but they still had to have the life sucked out of them for 25 minutes, they are not telling the truth. And if ANYONE tells you they didn't want to give their children away to the lowest bidder whenever they rolled their eyes at them, THEY. ARE. LYING!

Enjoy the good moments and survive the bad ones with as much dignity and love that you can muster.

And the next time someone says a cliché, catch-all saying to you...just smile and nod and know that they are liars.

A letter to my workaholic husband

Dear workaholic husband,

No, it's not what you think, this isn't a letter that makes me look amazing and you look like a jerk. This is a thank you note, a love letter, a full on "brag about my husband" moment. And I'm taking that moment and running!

9 years ago when we got married, I would have never imagined our life as it is today. You couldn't work and I worked at a dead end job, bringing home what we thought was measly money to our 1 bedroom apartment with the fighting couple below us that threw each other's belongings off the balcony every weekend. Fast forward to life now in our 3 bedroom rented house with three kids only 18 and 16 months apart. I'm a stay at home mom and you are the sole provider. No, not at your dream job. Not even at a job you love! But everyday you get up and go. You glisten with sweat in the hot summer and freeze your fingers off in the long winter. You work until you you're told to go home, which is sometimes in time for dinner with your family and sometimes just in time for bed.   You climb on roofs and dig deep holes in the Missouri ground a.k.a. rocks. You speak with people that judge you based on your skin color. You are constantly evaluated, not on the quality of your work, but on the accent that comes out of your mouth.

And on your days off, when you could be sleeping, you do what needs to be done. Like donate your plasma so we can have a date night. Or mow the lawn. Or build the headboard from pallets that I really wanted. Or sometimes you do the dishes that I just don't want to do. Or homeschool our son so I can go to the zoo with my friend during a school day. Or listen to me complain that you're playing your video game too much, when really it's the first time you've sat down to relax all week.

Yet everyday, you get up, before the sun sometimes. And you never complain. You just go, and do your work and come home to me.

Let's talk about me. The stay at home mom that pretty much wants to give her kids away on the daily. The one that calls you and says "I just can't" and cries and asks to put you on speakerphone so you can talk our son down and tell him to obey his mother. The one that is *done* as soon as you walk in the door. The housewife that is constantly behind on the pile of laundry in the corner of our room. The one that mops the kitchen floor *about* twice a month. The one that forgets all too often to get meat out of the freezer, so dinner is either delayed or left overs, like 50% of the time!

You work your butt off and some days I don't even get off mine. And you never complain. As long as you get a hot shower, whatever food I scrounge up (or you scrounge up, sorry!) and me standing by your side, you are happy and fulfilled.

I don't deserve you. You are my gift from God.

So, I'm here to say...you are my dream come true. I couldn't have imagined this life 9 years ago, because I didn't know life and love like this even existed. I am so proud of you. I am so in love with you. And it's not the love I ever saw in the movies or read in the books. It's the hard-working, hard-fighting, bare it all, hash it out, you know all my secrets, you've helped me go to the bathroom, you've seen me at my darkest, you get up in the middle of the night to console our daughter with night terrors, you never yell back, you let me sleep in on your day off kind of love.

It doesn't matter that we don't have the biggest and best. It doesn't matter that we rent when we could have bought (maybe, back when we both worked with no kids and thought we had no money!). It doesn't matter that others might think we aren't successful. What matters is that we love, each other and our kids. It matters that we prioritize what is important to our family in this moment. It matters that we walk this path holding hands though hard times instead of yelling at each other in the lap of luxury.

You're a workaholic, because you're a family-aholic. And your family thanks you!

Love,
your lazy-aholic, thankful wife