The one with the pictures

IMG_0510

I really admire creativity. I am always in awe of the way that people see the world. Some see it as a concrete place of numbers and statistics. I don’t understand their view of the world but I can appreciate their brand of creativity.

I see the world as a series of images. They move and flow together in mostly word pictures and that’s how I’m prone to create. I weave and piece together the words until the world around me lights up.

My five-year-old sees the world as one giant surprise. He’s delighted with every step because he never really knows what’s coming next. I wish I could bottle that wonder up and sip on it awhile. Kids are master creators because they aren’t bound by predictability. I hope he never loses his sense of awe. I pray that a little piece of that always sticks with him.

And then there are the photographers. Those who see the world through a lens have a unique ability to create. Last month, my friends Tammy and Jenni reminded me once again that photographers are some of the most creative and inspiring people that God has placed on this earth. They see life in vivid color and dramatic black and white. They see life as a tapestry and with a tiny click, they capture an image that gives testimony to a single moment in time.

I’m a fan of photographers.

Before we left for California, Tammy told us of a project she’d like to work on. She wanted to capture a single image of each one of us that told a story. In the weeks leading up to the trip, we sent countless emails back and forth, each trying to determine what our image should look like.

Bethany’s image was a bit like a feast of words. Bethany may be the smartest person I know. Her grasp of literature and writing is impeccable, and her understanding of story and poetry is awe-inspiring. Add to that the fact that she is stunning, and you have a recipe for some pretty spectacular pictures.

Of course, Tammy took more than one image of each of us. Knowing that we’re all busy moms, Tammy understood that we rarely get to stand in front of the camera. We’re usually behind it in yoga pants and t-shirts capturing the life that plays out before us. So she gave us the opportunity to get prettied up and she gave us the gift of being in front of the lens for a little while.

When it came time for my photo shoot, I had in mind something vintage and simple. Tammy went above and beyond. She captured images that signify the emotional journey I’ve been on and merged them into a single image to tell our story of hope and healing. I thought that it would be easy for her to capture that image of me, but it wasn’t. I struggled to display the emotion necessary to really tell the story.

I’m a writer, not an actress.

But in the end, Tammy (and Bethany, who acted as her assistant) pulled it out of me. Because they’re that good.

After we took the serious image, Tammy let me have a little fun. We risked our lives inside a rodent infested house to capture this image. (And by rodent infested, I mean you could hear hundreds and hundreds of mice scurrying in the attic above us while mounds of mice feces piled from corner to corner. Horrifying…)

©tlp2013_CR2_Kelli_6

 

Tammy then had me change into a more vintage inspired outfit and just have a little fun. I felt like a supermodel and for over and hour we just laughed and enjoyed the art of creating.

It’s a little embarrassing for me to share fancy pictures of myself. It feels slightly narcissistic and strange, but this isn’t about me so much as it’s about my friend’s amazing talent. What Tammy does with a camera is nothing short of magical. She takes an ordinary girl – a minivan mom of three who’s life is not glamorous by  stretch of the imagination – and she transforms her into someone else entirely.

©tlp2013_CR2_Kelli_5-1

 

This is the beauty of art. It’s taking the ordinary – the plain – and focusing in on it in such a way that it becomes extraordinary. I’m grateful for friends who use their gifts in such powerful and beautiful ways!

Click this link to see the rest of the photos Tammy took during our morning in California. You’ll want to “Like” her on Facebook as well so you can keep up with her work as she continues to grow and expand as an artist.

I’d wave hello but I can’t raise my arms

Confession: I am out of shape. Massively, wildly, annoyingly, ridiculously out of shape. Where working out and fitness was once an integral part of my daily routine, it has become a chore – something I dread and want to get over with…or just not do at all.

When the kids were younger, going to the gym was my escape. It gave me an hour or two a day away from them. I’d drop them off in the play area where they could have fun and I could sweat off a little stress. Or, um, sit in a dark corner and read a book in silence, which I did on more than one occasion.

Physical fitness is mental, too, you know!

Now that they’re older, I can’t really take them to the play area anymore. Which means if I want to work out, I have to squeeze it into the parts of my day that I don’t want to spend in the gym – like early mornings (I would rather sleep) or the evening (I’ve had way too much time to talk myself out of it). I’d like to say that when they go back to school, I’ll get back in the routine, but I’m afraid my brain has shut down the part that used to find working out enjoyable.

I’m trying to revive it.

Last Saturday I accompanied my neighbor to a boot camp with a trainer who came to our neighborhood and tortured pushed us with squats, push ups and running. RUNNING! It’s been long enough that I knew I should take it a little easy, but there is still a competitive side of my brain that’s active and well, and she did NOT like being left behind.

It’s Wednesday, which means that I can finally move without muttering four letter words under my breath. I feel victorious!

Thankfully my upper body remained relatively unscathed from our torture fitness session. But yesterday when a friend and I took our kids to Busch Gardens for what was meant to be an afternoon of fun, that changed entirely. Picture this: two adults, five children, one of which has a sprained (possibly broken) foot, a wheelchair, two strollers and all the bags that go with taking children to a theme park.

Now, add lightening and a torrential downpour. If you see me today and I don’t wave hello, just know it’s because I can’t raise my arms for all the dashing through the rain in flip flops, pushing a 50 pound kid in an umbrella stroller.

I mean…this is getting ridiculous.

PM-Blogger-Badges_FNLI told you a few months ago about how I joined forces with Pretty Muddy as a means to get back into shape and have a little fun doing it. So I haven’t really started training, yet. At all. Seriously not at all. I mean, the race isn’t until December and I only need to run 3.2 miles so I just thought I’d procrastinate a bit because I HATE ALL THE RUNNING!

I excel at procrastinating. It’s a gift.

After this week, though, I think maybe it’s time to put in a tiny bit of effort. So in an effort to stop embracing laziness, I signed up for MyFitU…a week ago. I plan to start using it today. Or tomorrow. Soon. I’m going to start using it soon.

Maybe if you join me, we can do this together? MyFitU has teamed up with Pretty Muddy as their official online personal trainer. As a result, I get to offer my readers a promotion for 50% off ANY MEMBERSHIP YOU CHOOSE. That’s an awesome deal! This offer can be applied to the 1, 3, 6 or 12 month plans, which means the more you commit to the program the more you save.

MyFitU is a great concept in that they take your overall health statistics and put together a personal plan to help you achieve your weight loss goals. The only thing MyFitU cannot do for you is make you get online and log in your daily activity.

Ahem.

MyFitU offers a comprehensive workout plan to help you maximize your workouts. Based on your weight and activity level, you will be given a daily caloric intake to aim for and you have access to hundreds of healthy recipes to help you acheive your goals.

Seriously, it’s the cheapest personal trainer you’ll ever sign up for!

So, does anybody want to join me? If so, visit MyFitU.com and sign up. When you get to the check out enter the promo code PRETTYMUDDY50 for your 50% off discount. Then come back and let me know if you’re going to give it a try. And go ahead and ask me if I entered my activity in for the day. I will happily accept the accountability.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off take a little more Ibuprofen and attempt to stretch out my screaming muscles.

Disclaimer: As part of the Pretty Muddy blogger team, I received a three month membership to MyFitU free of charge. I am grateful for the opportunity to work with both organizations as clearly I need someone to push me out of this lazy funk.

The Greatest Version of The Star Spangled Banner You’ll Ever Hear

Galaxies.

Prince Charming.

It’s all in there, folks.

You’ve never heard The Star Spangled Banner sung quite like this.

Enjoy.

 

 

They say it takes two years

photo-4

Two years ago, we played Tetris with all of our earthly possessions, stuffing and shoving and twisting them juuuust so into two giant PODS and the back of our (smokin’ hot) minivan. We waved goodbye to the POD men and began a three month odyssey of moving from one place to the next until we finally found and bought a house.

It’s been a hard, hard two years.

The first year was spent just trying to figure out our place in this new town. We spent a lot of time mourning the loss of seeing and being with people who were more than just friends – they were family. That first year was spent visiting the beach, sticking our toes in the sand and trying to convince ourselves that we made the right choice – that everything would be okay.

IMG_0394

The Beach – God’s Glory Land…

“It takes two years in a new town to feel settled,” we heard from more than one person and I’ve clung to that adage these last 24 months. On the nights when we’ve paced the house in the wee hours of the morning fighting hyperventilation and panic attacks, I’ve told myself to wait for that magic two year mark. Other days, as I felt lost in loneliness, I searched out the Facebook pages of my dear friends so far away for some connection to the life I missed, and I told myself it wouldn’t be long before this all got better.

After the first year, I felt like the worst of the mourning had passed and we finally began the arduous task of rooting ourselves to this new place. We found a church, made some friends and looked for ways to plug ourselves into this place that we desperately needed to call home.

This second year has been equally difficult, but for so many different reasons. So many times I have desperately longed for the friends who knew me best to come close, hold my hand and let me cry. Early on this year, I started to get a little lost inside my twisty head and I knew I needed to get out and meet people or things were going to go down hill quickly. So I found new friends who met me for coffee and even though we hardly knew one another, they listened as I let my broken heart roll down my cheeks. Just thinking about those glimmering moments of grace in such a dark time brings tears to my eyes once again.

Moving is hard. It’s so very, very hard to start over, to not be known, to feel like you have to smile when you just want to cry. But one thing our new friends have taught me these last two years is that there’s no faster way to get to know and love someone than to be raw and real with them. I could have stuffed all my sorrow inside and kept it hidden, but I would have been a miserable person as a result.

IMG_1310They let me be real. They passed me notes in church when they noticed my eyes were full of tears. They called just to check on me, to make sure I wasn’t staying in seclusion. When I apologized for crying so much they shook their heads and told me not to worry about it as tears glistened in their own eyes.

These people who were practically strangers felt my pain and in so doing, they took some of it on themselves, relieving me of carrying the burden on my own. 

They say it takes two years in a new town to feel settled and I’m embracing this two year mark. I still miss St. Louis so deeply that sometimes I feel a physical ache in my chest. I miss my friends so very much. Just today I called three of them because I just needed a little more than a Facebook status.

In two weeks, we head back to the ‘Lou to touch home base again. I think it will be perfect timing. Five days won’t be enough time, but it will quell the ache of the heart enough to allow us to continue to grow here – to continue to plant roots and gain a familiarity with this new place we call home.

Yesterday, I woke up, got dressed and it dawned on me that I was really excited to go to church. I was excited to see the people that are settling into that special place in my heart that’s reserved for the closest of family and friends. It’s been two years since we waved goodbye and I think “they” were right.

It’s starting to feel like home.

A Repost, Because Summer is Crazy

This is, hands down, the craziest summer I’ve experienced thus far as a mother. We are moving from one thing to the next at break neck speed, and it’s all this Mama can do to keep from hyperventilating at ALL THE INSANITY!

See there? See the caps lock? INSANITY!

Today I’m packing Sloan up for his week long adventure to Washington DC and New York. My parents have told each of the kids that they will take them whereever they want to go for a week long trip when they turn ten (in the Continental United States – yes, that had to be defined because a certain child had big ideas about traipsing about Europe for her trip).

When Sloan returns we’ll have a few days at home before we leave for Kanakuk, St. Louis and Conway, Arkansas for two weeks. When we come home we’ll have a week and a half before school starts. Seriously, I feel like I can’t breathe when I try to think about all of it at once.

So while I go bury my face in a paper bag, I’m going to leave you with a repost, because I needed to laugh today, and maybe you did too. Happy Friday, friends! May your weekend be fun, restful and free of panic attacks.

*wink*

WHEN DADDY EXPLAINS

Originally published June 11, 2011

IMGP8919

I was on the phone last week, pacing the driveway.  It was a beautiful day and the kids were all napping or resting.  I just needed some air.  As I spoke with my friend, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  I turned in time to see Sloan marching by with a twelve foot ladder tucked snuggly under his arm.  He didn’t even glance my way as he walked past, his face cool and nonchalant.  As if carrying around a ladder was normal.

I swear, if that kid had a stuffed tiger I would be living with Calvin and Hobbes.

“Um…I think I should probably hang up,” I said to my friend as Sloan set the ladder down next to the corner of the house and popped it open.  He looked up at the roof, his hand shading his eyes slightly.  I managed to reach him just as he stepped on the third rung, the ladder wobbling precariously on the slanted driveway.

“Whatcha doin’?”  I asked, grabbing hold of the base of the ladder.

“Oh, hey Mom,” Sloan said, still playing cool.  “I’m checking out the bird’s nest up here.”

I looked up and sure enough, there was a nest just underneath the roof.

“Can I?” he asked, looking down at me with his penetrating blue eyes.  Then he grinned.  Stinker.

“Yes,” I replied.  “Be careful.”

So up he climbed to the top rung and he peered over the side of the nest.

“There’s a baby bird in there!” he screeched.  Seriously screeched.  My ears are still ringing.  “It’s so cute!  Aw, Mom come see the baby bird!”

So we switched places and I climbed the ladder with him holding it steady.  Inside the nest was a tiny, newly hatched baby, it’s beak pointed upward, waiting for nourishment.

“Can I see it again?” Sloan yelled, shaking the ladder for effect.  Nice.

He climbed back up and looked in again.  “This is so freakin’ cool!” he yelled again.  To which I reminded him that I was only a few feet below and he didn’t need to scream.  Then he reached for the bird.

“Don’t touch it,” I cautioned.  “If the Mama bird comes back and smells you on her baby, she’ll leave him and he’ll die.”

With one last look and a wave, we pulled the ladder back down and headed on with our day.

Fast forward to this afternoon when we’re driving home from church.  Sloan pipes up from the backseat.  “Hey Mom.  I don’t care if it dies, so when we get home can I get the ladder out and pick up the baby bird and keep it?  I’ll get it worms and I’ll take care of it.  Can I raise the baby bird?”

“No,” I said.  “It’s Mama would be sad.  And we really don’t know how to raise a baby bird.  It’s better if we leave it alone.”

“But I can take good care of it,” came the anticipated protest.

“Hey Buddy,” Lee said, glancing into the mirror.  “You don’t need to try and raise that baby bird.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Lee said, and he paused.  “It would be like a bear coming to our house and seeing you and saying ‘I want to take that little boy home and raise him.’  Bears don’t know how to raise little boys.  That bear wouldn’t know how to feed you – he’d probably just give you raw meat or raw fish, like he eats.  And if he tried to hug you or give you a kiss, he’d probably claw your face off or bite off your head with his sharp teeth.  Bears aren’t meant to take care of little boys just like little boys aren’t meant to take care of baby birds.”

This is the part where I begin clutching my sides, I’m laughing so hard.

“And bee’s should take care of bee’s, wight?”  Tia chimes in.

“Right,” Lee replies.  “Bears take care of bears, bee’s take care of bee’s, bird’s take care of bird’s–”

“And people take care of people!”  Sloan interrupts.

“That’s right!”  Lee pumps his fist in the air.  “Homosapiens take care of Homosapiens.”

“Yeah!” Sloan yelled, pumping his fist in the air victoriously. “Wait…what’s a Home-sapien?”

And THAT, folks, is what happens when Daddy decides to explain.

The End.

A Decade

My boy.

Born July 10, 2003

9 lbs. 3 oz. 

 

GetAttachment

 

baby-sloan-sleeping

 

Sloan-3yrs

 

Clearwater 025

IMGP3286

Photo by Avodah Images. One of my all time favorites. AvodahImages.com

Photo by Avodah Images. One of my all time favorites. AvodahImages.com

IMG_0128

He has ten year old Hobbit Feet now...

He has ten year old Hobbit Feet now…

photo-3

My baby is ten today.

A decade.

Double digits.

Never to be single digits again.

I really, really love who this kid is becoming.

Pardon me while I go have a piece of cake.

Don’t Serve an Empty Jesus

IMGP8135“How long do the soles on these shoes last?” I asked the sales girl nervously. I stepped from one foot to the next, rocking side to side as if the room were moving and I wanted to steady it.

“Well, I don’t know,” she answered. “I imagine they last quite awhile. These are good shoes.”

“Oh…” I paused awkwardly, trying to remember the things I’d been taught about sharing my faith with strangers. I needed a unique way to start the conversation, but this suddenly felt like it was going a very strange direction. Taking a deep breath I decided to plunge forward with the plan.

“Did-you-know-we-have-souls-that-will-never-die-and-that-Jesus-died-on-the-cross-for-us-so-we-could-live-eternally-with-Him?!” I sort of blurted the sentence out,  a verbal vomit that left the poor sales girl looking entirely confused. Were we talking about shoes or were we talking about Jesus?

WHO COULD TELL!

This story is not one of my finer moments in life, though I will say the sales girl in Payless was extremely kind. She put her arm around my shoulder, thanked me for being bold enough to share my faith and asked me if I really needed any shoes. I didn’t so on I moved.

This was part of a mission weekend with my church youth group. The premise behind the weekend was a good one – let’s teach young people how to be bold in sharing their faith. I have no problem with this message and I am grateful that it was taught to me.

But the practice of sharing our faith is so much more effective when it’s actually lived out in front of people, isn’t it? Canvasing malls and neighborhoods and beach boardwalks yields little effect for so many reasons. One, it’s just plain awkward. There’s nowhere to go with a conversation that messily tries to equate the soles of shoes to the souls of man and then throws Jesus inside that blender for a healthy little punch.

Although you absolutely can feel free to pat me on the back for my clever little play on words there, thankyouverymuch.

IMG_0856

There’s a lot of negativity surrounding the idea of short term mission trips that floats around the internet. I get where it’s coming from, I really do. Much of it is written by people who grew up a lot like I did, in a day when short term missions was often defined as dropping a group of youth students on the side of the road in matching t-shirts, hands stuffed with the Four-Spiritual Laws, hell bent on saving people’s soles souls.

There was little sacrifice to be made in such endeavors. In fact, two hours of “sharing your faith” on  a sandy beach often yielded a full day of play time and boy did you feel good about yourself because you shared Jesus that morning, yo!

IMGP8330A short term mission trip should serve only to bolster the local church or a local body of believers that can continue the work that was supported by a mission’s team. It does no one any good for a group of people to descend upon them for two weeks like a spiritual tornado if there is no one left behind to help explain what all the pieces of this faith mean. Throwing Jesus at someone who’s stomach is empty, who’s house is made of nothing but sticks and corregated metal, will more often than not be an empty Jesus.

Short term mission trips must meet the physical needs of those they’ve come to serve, and not at the detriment of the local economy. Don’t take away work from the locals. Don’t try to serve Jesus verbally to children who are starving, to mothers whose hands are raw from digging and working and scraping the ground in order to put something in their children’s stomachs.

IMG_0876

Show them Jesus by meeting their needs. Serve, backs bent over, next to the day laborers. Relieve their burden, feed their stomachs, hug the children who ache for physical touch. Be Jesus. Be His Hands as you serve them, His Feet as you walk next to those in such desperate need. And when you leave, make sure the local church is empowered so that they can tell the people who Jesus is and give evidence of His Love for them.

There are so many organizations that are doing this well – so many people who are coming alongside local churches and communities and orphanages all over the world and bolstering them in the areas of physical need so that they can more readily meet the spiritual needs of their own communities. If you’re looking for an organization to support and perhaps even take a short term mission trip with, start by looking at one of these organizations. While there are many doing this very thing, I can personally endorse two of them if you are looking for an organization to join on a short term mission trip.

IMGP8356

Servant’s Heart Ministry is based out of Nashville and they work primarily in Dominican Republic right now. They are doing just what I laid out – they work closely with local pastors in the villages they serve to make sure that the children are getting what they need from a physical standpoint (food, proper nutrition, health care and dental care) and they are telling the children that they aren’t forgotten by God.

IsleGo Ministries is working to connect the Church as one body all over the globe. They work closely with churches all over the world, but most specifically in the Caribbean. IsleGo takes hundreds of families, pastors, youth and college students every year to their numerous established locations where they work to meet the needs of the local people, to connect hearts with one another and to strengthen the Church as a whole.

Both of these organizations are doing short term mission not just right, but extremely well. And for those of you with young children, both of these organizations offer short term mission trips for families with children as young as 5, and what a blessing it is to serve alongside your young children.

I know this post was long so thanks for sticking with me. What are your thoughts on short term mission trips? How have you seen lives impacted by a short term mission?

The One Where We Celebrate the 4th

Re, White, and Blue Chocolate Chip Pancakes. Happy Birthday, indeed...

Red, White, and Blue Chocolate Chip Pancakes. Happy Birthday, indeed…

 

237 years ago, the founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence. Sometimes I wonder what they were thinking when they did that. I wish I could just get a glimpse into what it must have felt like inside that room – the electricity that must have coursed through the air as they each put a stamp on history. Was it somber, celebratory, raucous or hushed? Were they laughing and joking or were they contemplative?

photo-3

Did they have any idea how far that one piece of paper would take a nation?

 

We are an infant nation and yet so much has happened in our short 237 years. We are good and we are bad. We have moved forward and we have moved backward. Many people will tell you that our nation is going to hell in a hand basket, but I’m not sure that’s the case. We’re young. We are merely going through the natural ebbs and flows that every nation before us has gone through. We are neither more vile nor more corrupt and though the world may seem less safe and, indeed, for America it is less safe, the truth is, we are no different from any civilization in history.

There are peaks and valleys. The world is as dangerous as it has ever been. Man is as corrupt and sinful as he has ever been. And God is as unchanging as He has ever been.

I really loved what Shaun wrote this morning. There is no theological way to defend much of our history, though pragmatically there is much to be said in its defense. We are Americans and with that we accept the good and the bad in our history. We have moments of shame that mar our past and we have memories of great beauty that have left their mark on the world.

I love this country, in spite of the bad and because of the good. For all that I’ve been given and all that’s been provided for me, I am proud to call myself American.

Happy Fourth of July everyone! I hope you all stay dry and enjoy a sparkler or two!

(Oh and remember when I told you yesterday that I would be posting my thoughts on Short Term Missions today? Yeah…totally forgot today was 4th of July. In fact, until about 5:00 yesterday I was convinced it was still June. I’m all over it, folks.)

 

Wordless Wednesday: Out of the Mouths of Babes

No words from me today. I’ll let the kids do the talking. I’d love for you to come back tomorrow when I talk about why I think Short Term Mission trips are a GOOD idea. Short term missions have gotten a lot of flak lately, but there are good things happening all over the world as a result of short term mission groups.

But first…today. The kids have shared their thoughts on what they learned and what stood out to them on our trip last week. Prepare yourselves for a little bit of heart melting.

Photos of a blessed week

IMGP8316

IMGP8324

The boys handing out bags to the kids coming to the fun day we had planned for them. From crafts to snacks to music and dentistry, these kids had the opportunity to receive trinkets that will likely become treasured possessions.

IMGP8335

Kids lined up to receive their food. They are fed a hot, solid meal three times a week inside this dirt floored church – the Body in action meeting needs.

IMGP8353

IMGP8350

We lost count at how many teeth were pulled this day. A combination of poor nutrition, lack of hygiene and zero flouride means most of these children had a mouth full of painful, rotting teeth. Education and prevention are some of the things Servant’s Heart is working to provide for these precious kids.

IMGP8361

IMGP8385

My son talked the pastor of the local church into taking him on a motorcycle ride. Huge highlight of the trip for this boy.

IMGP8341

Kyna – our rock star dentist.

IMGP8372

Gorgeous countryside.

photo-3 copy

Who found Dominican Nutella? THIS GIRL!!!

 

My 5-year-old painting flouride on teeth. Who says good things can't come in small packages?

My 5-year-old painting flouride on teeth. Who says good things can’t come in small packages?

We are exhausted and my head is a jumbled mess as I try to process everything we saw and experienced this past week. There were so many beautiful things that happened and so many difficult things to see. The impact of this week will settle on all of us in different ways.

Today however, instead of trying to articulate some of the scrambled pictures in my head, I just wanted to share some of the real pictures. I have thoughts to mull over and ideas to share, but today I want to say thanks for the emails and the tweets and the Facebook messages that so many of you sent. It is good to know you’re covered in prayer and it’s a wonderful feeling to know you’re loved so much. You guys are the best.

Happy Monday!