Speechless

December 19, 2012 by Kelli

I haven’t had the heart to write this week. Between Christmas, birthday, a traveling husband, the flu, the tragedy in Connecticut and some adoption drama, I have felt a bit boggled and crazed.

I walk from room to room in my house with a very clear purpose in mind and by the time I reach the bedroom, I have forgotten why I went there. My brain is scattered and I can’t remember the most minor of details. The pantry is nearly bare and the fridge is empty of all but a few leftovers that have been in there for…well, for too long.

In the midst of all this chaos, I am trying to sit still – to breathe. I’m trying to keep perspective. I’m trying to spend more time on my knees and less time listening to all the noise.

Every day this week, I’ve put my kids on a school bus and sent them to a place that should be safe, but instead has become a warzone. Yes, our school is secure. But so was Sandy Hook. Yes, it probably won’t happen here. But it wasn’t probable there, either.

I got a sweet email from Sloan’s teacher this week assuring us that she loved our children and would do anything to protect them. I sobbed as a read that because she shouldn’t have to feel that way. Teachers shouldn’t have to think about how they will protect their children if a gunman comes in.

Teachers shouldn’t have to think about taking a bullet for a child.

The shouldn’t have to! But they do have to. I shouldn’t have to worry about my children being safe in school, but I do have to. My children shouldn’t have to walk into a building armed by policeman and doors locked tight.

That’s prison. It shouldn’t be school.

I think we’ve all lost a little innocence this week. Or maybe we were never as safe as we thought?

These things have served as a distraction along with the fact that Congress passed the Magnitsky Bill this week. I don’t really understand that bill, but from what I am reading I understand why Russia feels outraged. And Russia’s retaliation is to threaten to shut down adoptions.

Will it happen? Who knows. This is political bantering at its finest. Unfortunately, the collateral in all this back and forth are the children lying in orphanages.

Right now I am not panicked by the thought of adoptions closing down. I feel a peace. I truly believe that if God wants us to adopt a little girl, He will bring us a little girl. If He doesn’t, I will wait expectantly for what He does want to do with us. I don’t believe our family is complete yet and that is where I find this comfort.

But while I feel a peace, I am also in constant prayer over this. It is on my mind at all times. I’ve never felt more out of control as a parent and I have to cling to the One who I believe is in complete control. I have to focus on Him because if I don’t, then a blanket of grief and fear begin to close in and I feel like I’m going to suffocate.

I’m not a person prone to fear or doubt. I count it as a blessing that God has knit a unique measure of peace inside me that has always given me the ability to trust, to believe and to not wallow in the fear of the unknown. But this week has shaken me a bit. This week I’ve had to keep things simple. I’ve had to sit and think and ponder. I’ve had to focus on Christ as Lord and let everything else fade away.

Truly He taught us to love one another

His law is love and His gospel is peace

Chains will He break, for the slave is our brother

And in His Name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of hope in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise His Holy Name

Christ is the Lord

Oh Praise His Name forever

His power and glory

Ever more shall reign

Filed Under: Adoption, Adoption, faith, Family, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: faith, Grace, Magnitsky Act, Motherhood, Peace, Russian adoption, Sandy Hook Tragedy, Sending children back to school, Trust

Blonde jokes totally appropriate

December 4, 2012 by Kelli

Landon gives the angel her final flight.

Despite temps in the ’80’s, Christmas has fully made its way to our house. We topped off Project Initiate Christmas this past weekend with a trip to the local Tree Lot to purchase our Christmas tree. You can go to actual tree farms here in Florida to cut your own tree, but a Christmas tree grown in Florida does not have the same appeal as one brought in from Oregon.

You understand.

Lee and I have celebrated twelve Christmases together and we’ve never had a tree fall over thanks to our amazing tree stand, so imagine our horror when we got home Saturday and realized our tree didn’t fit into the stand. I’ll make a long story very short:

Awesome neighbors lent us another stand.

We decorated our tree.

It fell over at 10:30 Saturday night.

Ornaments shattered.

Our angel broke.

I cried.

Apparently it was too heavy for our borrowed stand as well.

We tied it to the piano and the chair with twine where it stayed propped through our big party on Sunday.

So Sunday night, I headed to Home Depot to look for a sturdier stand to hold our wily tree. As I walked out of the house, I grabbed Lee’s keys thinking I’d take his car. Did I mention Lee got a new job? His new job necessitated the purchase of a new car and…well, his new car is pretty. I like driving it.

It doesn’t smell like french fries and make strange knocking noises when I hit 40 mph.

Alas, my car was parked behind his, so I grabbed my keys, jumped in the car and took off. I purchased the largest tree stand known to mankind made of solid steel. You’ll be pleased to know that should we ever want to get a 12 foot tree we have the stand to hold it up.

Merry Christmas!

After I paid for my tree stand, I walked back out to the parking lot and began looking for the car. The problem? I thought I was looking for Lee’s car. Somehow I totally and completely forgot I had driven my car to the store. Lee’s new car is so fancy that you just push a button to start and stop it – you just need to have the keys in the car with you.

As I wandered the parking lot, I couldn’t remember taking his keys out of the car with me so the obvious conclusion that I could come to was someone had stolen his car.

Obviously…

I stood in the parking lot and began to panic. My foolishness and forgetfulness had resulted in Lee’s car being stolen right out from under my nose. I wondered how on earth someone had figured out that I left the keys in the car. I wondered at what point I should call the police.

Just then, a Home Depot employee came up to me. “Can I help you?” he asked. I must have looked a little crazy, what with my heavy breathing and wide, panicked eyes and all.

“I…I can’t find my car,” I said. “I parked it right here and I don’t see it.”

The young man looked concerned himself and both of us turned in a circle, scanning the parking lot.

“What kind of car do you drive?” he asked.

That’s when I realized my mistake. How did I realize my mistake? You ask.

PEOPLE, I WAS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO MY MINIVAN!

I saw the van and cleared my throat, trying to figure out how to not look completely crazy but I realized pretty quickly that there was very little I could do to mask the truth.

“Oh…ahem…um,” I turned to the concerned helper. “So, funny story…I was looking for the wrong car. This car right here is mine.” I point to the car that is literally within arm’s reach. “So, I’m all good.” I flashed him my best I-am-totally-normal-and-not-crazy-at-all-and-am-actually-a-fairly-intelligent-chick-who-happens-to-suffer-from-a-rare-bout-of-ditziness-now-and-then smile.

He smiled back. It was more of an I’m-totally-going-to-laugh-my-head-off-and-tell-the-entire-store-about-how-dumb-you-are-when-you-drive-away sort of smile.

So there you have it. The blonde strikes again. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, I make sure it’s good…

Am I the only one who’s ever done this?

You know what…don’t answer that.

Filed Under: Christmas, funny stuff that happens, Holidays, Life, Minivans Tagged With: Christmas, Dumb Blonde, I'm not always this awesome, Lost my Car, Tree Falling Down

Christmas time is here!

November 29, 2012 by Kelli

Oh the weather outside is frightful…unless you live in Florida where the weather is truly delightful and the thought of building a fire is frightful. We have to buy our snowmen down here, dontcha know?

With the holiday season fast approaching (or, you know, already upon us), I thought it would be fun to share some ideas on how to make the holidays count. The greatest thing about Christmas is the spirit of giving that seems to overtake us. Though we try to keep that spirit up all year long, this time of year is always especially sweet and poignant. So I’m going to share a couple of things we have done, or are doing, and I would love to hear what you’re doing with your families.

Two years ago, we threw a Christmas party at our house for the kids. They played, ate Christmas cookies and Lee read the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke. What made this party particularly fun for everyone was all the kids brought new, unwrapped toys which we then donated to the local Ronald McDonald House.

We didn’t have a party like this last year because we were new and didn’t know anyone, but the party is on again this year and we are so excited! There’s something so fun about coming together as a community and blessing ohters in need. The kids especially get into it, which makes it even more delightful.

Image from: http://www.compassion.com/catalog/equip-family-with-livestock.htm

Another thing we love to do is give gifts through Compassion International. We go through their gift catalog and each kid gets to pick one or two things they would like to give. Usually these things end up being farm animals because really, what’s more fun than buying a goat for someone?!

Having travelled with Compassion to Tanzania in May, I’m so much more connected to this process than I was before. I saw how a goat could not only provide a family some nourishment, but also a stream of income, which would allow them to provide for their children. Providing livestock for a family is the best $50 you will ever spend, I can guarantee it.

Last year, on Christmas morning before we even opened gifts, we shuttled the kids out the door, met up with some friends and headed to downtown Tampa where we served the homeless hot coffee, breakfast sandwiches and a little Christmas love. This was deeply impactful for the kids and for Lee and I. It was a beautiful way to celebrate the morning and I believe we came home feeling equally blessed. I’m not sure we can do this again as laws have changed and been put in place to prohibit those things, but we are looking into it.

The most important thing we’ve learned over the years as we’ve parented and raised these children is how little our family needs and how much so many others lack. We have drastically reduced the number of gifts our children receive at Christmas for a number of reasons, one of them being the fact that they just don’t need more toys to sit in their rooms and gather dust.

I would rather buy my children two meaningful gifts that they will love and use than five useless toys that they’ll play with once and cast aside. I love giving my kids gifts. I love seeing their faces light up when they open a present. Those looks are so much more meaningful, though, when we all know we have given of ourselves first.

This has been a learning process for me. I was so worried that my kids would be disappointed when they saw how little was under the tree, but I so vastly underestimated their capacity to love others and their desire to bless. My kids did not complain at all about not getting many gifts. What a lesson that’s been to me.

So how about you? What do you do to foster the spirit of giving in your home? I know you all have a lot of great ideas. None of our ideas are original. We didn’t think of those things on our own. We learned from observing what others have done and we decided to follow suit. I don’t share any of these ideas to toot our horns by any means. I always love to hear how others are working to make the holidays more meaningful and learn from those ideas.

I’d love to hear how you are blessing others this season. Or perhaps you have been on the receiving end of a blessing. How has that affected you?

MERRY CHRISTMAS, FRIENDS!

Fa, la, la, la, la…man.

Filed Under: Christmas, Family, Holidays, Kids, Life

The Terrible, Awful, No-Good, Very Bad Day

November 27, 2012 by Kelli

You know those days when nothing seems to go right and you think, “Golly Gee. I sure wish this icky day would skeedaddle.”

Or, you know…something along those lines.

Well, folks. THAT was our Monday. Totally and completely icky. Like, not swell, man.

The day started alright. Christmas decorations were up, the house was fairly clean despite half of Orlando having visited over the weekend and I got ten pages of my novel written. It seemed like one of those sunshiney days that musicals are made of. I think, actually, that’s what made everything go awry. The day was too perfect. There’s nowhere to go but down from perfection.

The kids came home from school in great moods. They were jazzed and revived after a week off and immediately set into their homework in a way that was almost freaky in a Stepford kinda way. Tia even took her homework outside because it was freaking 74 degrees out. Even Mother Nature felt pretty good about herself.

Apparently, however, the devil wanted to ruin this idyllic day. It started when Tia came in to play. Everyone was cheery and happy for about thirty minutes. Sloan sat on the couch playing the iPad and Tia leaned over his shoulder to watch.

Then she shrieked.

“Something’s poking me!” she cried, yanking on her pants leg. I assumed she had some kind of sticker from outside and tried to pull her hands away from her leg, but she began trembling and crying and she dashed to her room, yanked the pants off and threw them at me. I picked them up and shook them and Hark! A massive bee fell out. Tia came out moments later with four large welts on her knee.

Strike one to the perfect day.

An hour later, half the neighborhood was over playing kickball in our backyard. Lee came home and, ever the awesome Daddy, he joined in on the game. Because I’d already started dinner, had laundry going, had the house cleaned and in general had nothing else to do, I decided to not be a fuddy duddy and join in on the neighborhood kickball game.

Truth be told, I succombed to Mom-Guilt. I felt bad for not playing with my kids and decided the nice mommy thing to do would be join in. I had on my Ugg boots and briefly considered changing the, but then decided, “Nah. I’ll just kick a couple of times then bow out.”

On my second kick, as I ran the bases, my left boot slipped a little, curling my toes underneath and sending all my weight onto the top of my foot.

Friends, the only pain I’ve ever felt worse than that was natural childbirth. It was as though someone lit my foot on fire and to make matters worse all the neighborhood kids were gathered around so I could neither cry or curse, both of which I wanted to do in abundance.

So four bee stings and a broken foot. Day’s not shaping up well. (And yes, the foot’s broken. I got an X-Ray just to be sure. It’s just a hairline fracture and should heal quickly. I also learned that I have two bones in my foot that are not connected and likely have never been. It’s a rare something or other people have from birth. So…there’s something you didn’t know about me, eh?)

As I sat on the couch nursing my swollen foot a neighbor boy came in looking for an iPad to play. He grabbed Lee’s. He dropped Lee’s. It shattered.

And that’s when we sent everyone away and hunkered down for the night hoping to avoid any more lightening strikes.

There’s a moral to this story, you know. No…”Don’t Play Kickball in Uggs” is NOT the moral. “Don’t let neighbor kids touch expensive electronics” isn’t the moral, either, though is has been added to our house rules. No, those are not the morals to be taken from this story. CLEARLY the moral is “Mom-Guilt Clouds Your Judgement Making You Think That Playing Ball with Your Kids is Better Than Sitting Down in a Quiet House with a Book for Fifteen Minutes.”

The End.

So…how’s your week going so far, hmmmm?

PS: At the end of the day, I’m more than aware that we are so blessed. I am beyond grateful for all that we have and I don’t share our horrible awful day to complain so much as to laugh a bit, because seriously?! How can all that go on in the span of just a couple of hours?!

So don’t cry for me, Argentina…

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Sports Tagged With: Bad Day, Broken Foot, Kickball is dangerous, Thank goodness that day's over

How KidzBop kept me cool

November 7, 2012 by Kelli

Last weekend, I snuck away for a few days to join four of my sweetest friends in Waco, Texas to celebrate Baylor’s Homecoming. Sixteen years ago, the five of us met. We were all so different, but we had the common factor of being far away from home and totally lost in a brand new world.

We were eighteen, silly and over the course of four years we developed the kind of bonds that most people only pray for. By God’s grace, I can still say that those four women are some of my favorite people to be around. We’ve lived in different cities for twelve years now. We (currently) have sixteen children between the five of us. We’ve weathered heartache and loss and joys and sadness together. We’ve moved and grown and changed and we always come together without a moment’s hiccup.

We are knit.

Blessed.

This was then. I don't really have an explanation...

We made a pact our senior year of college to try and get together once a year. Moves and babies has made it difficult, but we’ve worked hard to keep that promise. In twelve years, we have had nine reunions. Not too shabby.

This was our first time to come back, all five of us together, to the place we met. And we proved that even though we are, ahem, a little older – we still got it.

Friday night after the Homecoming bonfire, a cover band lit up the stage with music from the ’80’s until now. Unable to resist the urge to dance, we pushed our way to the front of the stage and boogied like it was 1999 (again) and until it was way past our bedtimes. Us and the college kids. I kept wanting to tap the kids shimmeying next to me on the shoulder and ask them to guess my age.

I resisted – decided to blend in.

This is me...blending in.

We shook our groove thangs, lifted body surfers over our heads and sang along at the top of our lungs…just like the days of yore. I even knew the words to all the songs!

BECAUSE I LISTEN TO KIDZBOP!

This girl right here has six kids. Would that we all looked that good after six kids...

I hereby apologize for every time I’ve bashed KidzBop and it’s fingernails on chalkboard singing. KidzBop kept me cool for just one night. (We’ll ignore the fact that I sang the cleaned up, watered down words to all the songs because that’s the only way I know them…thank you KidzBop.)

I came home refreshed, encouraged and remembering that every season of life brings miracles and grace. I also realized that I am immensely blessed to have dear, dear friends. I’m thankful that I still reap the blessings of my college days through those sweet friendships. What an honor.

Standing in our freshman dorm, sixteen years and sixteen kids after we first met...

So how’s everyone holding up after a long election day? My advice? Put on a little KidzBop and shake your groove thang. It feels good…

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Friendship, Life Tagged With: Baylor Homecoming 2012, Friendship, KidzBop, On being cool

Lean into the embrace

October 19, 2012 by Kelli

I came home torn and confused and frustrated and plopped on the couch with a long sigh. He looked up at me over the glow of his iPad and waited a moment before speaking.

“I knew this would happen,” he said with a smile. It wasn’t a haughty or prideful smile. I felt his sympathy and my eyes welled with tears.

“This is so hard,” I whispered and he nodded his head.

We have lived in Florida for a year and we have visited and tried out every church in the greater Tampa area. We found one we loved and we connected. We connected with the people and the pastor and the worship. It was everything we thought we were looking for.

Large.

Stable.

Connected.

It fit into the neat little puzzle of church that we were used to and I desperately wanted to stay there. But…

It was a solid thirty minute drive from our house and I saw Lee shut down every time we made the drive. I knew that this couldn’t become our church home. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t practical to drive that far, particularly because our children turn into rabid, psychotic baboons in the car.

I wish I was joking.

So I wasn’t surprised when Lee mentioned that we needed to start visiting churches closer to home again. We did, over and over we visited and nothing fit. Nothing felt right. I came home in tears every single Sunday.

Finally we visited a small church about seven minutes away. We’d visited this church earlier in the year. It was a recent plant and there were a lot of bugs to be worked out. Upon revisiting the church I realized there were still bugs to be worked out…but they were in my own heart.

It’s small, this church. Smaller than any church we have ever attended. I’m not used to that.

It’s a plant, something I’m also unfamilier with and makes me feel uncomfortable. But who said comfort was the goal, right?

It’s Baptist. I haven’t been in a Baptist church in a really, really long time. I have to get used to it. It’s not wrong, but it is different and I am learning to embrace the different.

But the people…oh the people. They are wonderful. They remember us when we walk in the door. They are excited to see us when we arrive. They know us and want to see us using the gifts and talents that we have been given in the best way possible.

They want to build a community.

We need community.

And so we have stayed and I continue to allow the bugs to be pushed and prodded and shaped into something more beautiful. Less about me.

But it’s still hard, because it’s not what I’ve known. I’ve lived in the unfamiliar for over a year now and part of me longs for the peace that comes with knowing and understanding. The peace of comfort. Peace.

Could it be that peace is a choice?

I stepped forward to serve in a way that I’ve always served – in the area that God has not only gifted me, but also that I’m passionate about. But they don’t know me. They know I say I’m gifted in this area, but there’s no proof to back up those claims and I…well, I’m prone to sit in the back corner and wait to be discovered. That’s what happened on this particular night. I sat in the corner and I knew I couldn’t stay there.

As I sat on the couch, knees pulled up to my chest, Lee leaned forward and spoke wisdom.

These are your gifts.

You have to use your gifts this way.

Sitting in the corner is not your gift.

You have to tell them.

You have to be bold.

And this month is the month of believing I can, so I made the call. It was uncomfortable, this business of boldly proclaiming my gifts. It felt snobby to so bluntly lay out how I believe I can best serve within the Church.

I felt like a diva.

But I also felt empowered. My husband has never before told me those things and I’d never thought of my abilities in the way he spoke of them. It was the first time I’d embraced my skills and I leaned into the embrace. You know what happened?

Relief. Not just my own relief, though I certainly felt freed from the inner angst that threatened to keep me tied in the corner. But, there was also relief from those in leadership positions who really want to use us all in the way that God desigend us to be used.

As it turns out, pastors and worship leaders and church leaders don’t have ESP. They don’t have some magical sixth sense that allows them to see the future and see exactly how each member of the body should be used.

Weird, huh?

Leaning into the embrace not only freed me up to be used, but it freed them up to know how to best utilize my skills. Bold living, humble serving – this is how we work together as a body of believers.

It’s actually not as scary as I thought it would be.

Filed Under: 31 Days, faith, Lee, Life Tagged With: 31 Days, Boldness, Looking for a church, moving

The tear in my flesh

October 16, 2012 by Kelli

Jackson Pollack "Autumn Rhythm"

This mothering thing is hard. No one really tells you how hard it will be. Or maybe they try and you just can’t believe it until you live it on your own. No one tells you that your heart will be torn in two and you will go through repeated cycles of trying to figure out who you are and how to match your independent desires with your desires to serve and love your family well.

No one mentions how messy it all is – that the desires will never match up, will never fit and yet somehow it all comes together anyway, but it looks more like a Jackson Pollack painting and less like Michealanjelo.

Before we were mothers, we were all something besides…mothers. We had dreams and longings and aspirations and desires that went beyond cleaning and scrubbing and washing and drying and refereeing and surviving.

When motherhood sets upon us, those dreams don’t disappear, but they do shift. Our desire to be Mommy becomes so much stronger than any other thing we’ve ever felt and we give ourselves wholly and fully to the task and yet….there remains something else inside.

The truth is, I sometimes feel like a big failure for not accomplishing more before I became a Mom. And I fight the feeling of failure for not attaining more even after I became mother. I compare myself to others and I wonder why they seem to accomplish so much and I can barely get through my days.

Then I remember that every journey is different.

I wish I was finished with this novel. I wish I could write it faster. I feel like I’ve failed already for taking so long. But the truth is, this is the best I can do. I cannot stay up until all hours of the night writing, because that’s not how I operate or function.

I can’t do this any faster and still do my job as Mom well. I’m learning to be okay with that.

I wish I had more time. I wish it were easier. I wish I could accomplish more in the few hours I have alone. I wish I could shirk every other duty and focus solely on the one thing I want to do the most – finish this book.

But that is not where life has me right now. Right now I don’t have the solitude needed to be a great writer. I do, however, have everything I need to be a great mother. I have all the tools and all the abilities and all the time to excel in the role that matters most.

I will finish the book. I know that I will. But it’s taking time – so much more time than I want it to. I won’t finish it in the wee hours of the mornings because I must sleep in those hours so that I can be alert to pour all my energy into my number one job. And I will save a bit of time, a bit of energy for the desires and longings that are mine and will work fervently in the little time I have to reach that goal.

But it won’t be a quick ascent. I am the tortoise in this race. I’ll reach the finish line, but only through perseverence because I’ve found that, for me, slow and steady is far more successful than fast and furious. I’m much less prone to burn outs that way.

Lisa-Jo Baker wrote a wonderful post on writing the other day. It has encouraged me so much. If you feel like you’re always a step behind, like you can’t keep up, I suggest you read “If You Wish You had an Island to Write On Alone.” This quote by Madaleine L’Engle bounces off my soul and clangs inside my heart:

“I uncovered the typewriter. In my journal I recorded this moment of decision, for that’s what it was. I had to write. I had no choice in the after. I didn’t matter how small or inadequate my talent. If I never had another book published, and it was very clear to me that this was a real possibility, I still had to go on writing.”

Day 16: If you, like me, feel frustrated with the longings that war against once another, take heart. It will all come together, and though it may look messy and wild, in the end it will be considered a masterpiece.

Image Credit

Filed Under: 31 Days, Life, Motherhood, Novel, writing Tagged With: 31 Days, desires, dreams, Goals, Motherhood, Novel, writing

31 Days – Lunar Magic: Living Life with the Eyes of a Child

October 2, 2012 by Kelli

Do you remember being in awe of nature as a child? Did you ever sit beneathe a black-blue sky dotted with a milliion stars and gasp at the wonder of it all? Did you marvel at a sunset or watch the clouds float by in an array of shapes.

An alligator! An elephant! A one-legged dog!

I remember specifically being around nine or ten years old and we had gone on a camping trip to some Jellystone Park in somewhere Wisconsin. While my parents worked hard to crank open the pop up camper, my brother and I romped in the wooded fields around us as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. And then we both stopped and gasped.

The glow of the moon lifted above the treeline before the moon itself appeared. It was huge and orange and seemed to hover just above the ground, willing us to reach out and touch. I remember standing breathless for several moments. I wanted to step forward and cross the expanse of sky to enter the golden, shimmery world that seemed to be just steps away.

As a roaring fire cackled and we prepared to bunk down for the night, I stole continual glances at the moon, which continued to rise up above the Earth, the orange hue fading and morphing into a brilliant white. A diamond in the sky.

I remember the magic of that moment, and it’s not the only time the moon’s nearness has stopped me in my tracks. There is something so glorious about the moon and it’s nearness and proximity.

Saturday night, we were in Clearwater with the boys while Tia spent the night at a friend’s house. The boys played football outside while Lee and I enjoyed a few rare moments of adult conversation. As the sky faded to a dusky grey, both boys came tumbling into the condo, screeching and motioning us to come.

I didn’t want to.

I had a glass of wine in my hand, my feet were propped up and I was enjoying the grown up conversation. But something in their eyes beckoned me to set the glass down and follow them out.

“You halfta see this!” they cried, motioning wildly. Lee and I followed them out and we stopped and gasped. The moon hung low over the Earth, bright and orange and filled with a golden magic.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Sloan asked and I remembered that night in the campground, when I felt it entirely possible to step off of Earth and run amongst the stars.

This month, I believe in living life with childlike wonder.

Have you looked at the moon lately?

This month, I am participating in The Nester’s 31 Day challenge, in which over 1,000 participants have chosen to write about one topic for 31 days. I choose to spend 31 Days Believing I Can. If you are stopping by from Nester’s site, welcome! Let me know in the comments so I can visit your site in return.

Filed Under: 31 Days, faith, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: 31 Days, Childlike Wonder, Kids, Remember, The Nester

On Being Intentional, Believing in Miracles and Punching Insecurity in the Face

September 26, 2012 by Kelli

My husband, God love him, is ornery. He takes a sick and twisted amount of delight in scaring the s*&$ out of me on a weekly basis. While I am busy turning out lights, whispering prayers over sleeping babes and shutting down the house for the night with grace and love, he is plotting evil.

I walk around the dark corners and he acts upon his wicked ways, jumping out at me from the shadows. And I usually yelp in terror and, more often than not, pepper my reaction with a four letter word or four, because honestly, when my heart skips like and that and my senses jolt and buzz I cannot be held responsible for the words that come out of my mouth!

(It is for this reason that I hold firm to my belief that my mansion in heaven will be bigger and shinier than his. And will be stocked with Nutella while his will be stocked with only radishes…and haggus.)

Insecurity does the same thing to me. I can be moving along, calmly taking care of business, then BOOM! I round a corner and insecurity is there waiting to steal my joy. Where moments ago I felt confident and secure in my path, insecurity works to instill doubt. I walk forward with trepidation, fear dictating which way I will turn.

Left unchecked, this fear can begin to order my steps, filter words spoken and limit opportunity.

I left last weekend for dotMOM with a lot of doubt and insecurity. I was part of a group of bloggers brought in by Lifeway for the conference and from start to finish it was everything I needed right at that moment. I entered completely unsure of myself and my abilities and I left with a fresh perspective about why I do what I do, and with the knowledge that there are some amazing people in this world doing amazing things.

I felt immensely loved all weekend by the other bloggers in attendance. They laughed with me, spoke wisdom into and over me and gave me all the courage to believe that this path that we’re on as a family – this path of adoption – is right. It’s good. It’s going to be great.

Every time I turned around this weekend, I met someone who has adopted and oh the grace they shared with me. They didn’t sugar coat things, they didn’t make it seem like sunshine and roses, but they did tell me that the process is beautiful and good and worth all of the effort.

I learned to be more intentional in all areas of my life. More intentional in parenting, more intentional in blogging, more intentional in wife-ing.

The amazing Jen Hatmaker in her sassy dress and boots...

There are so many women who blessed me this weekend. My roommate, Stacey, poured wisdom into me…and coffee. She bought me coffee in the mornings. I mean, that’s not why I fell in love with her, but it didn’t hurt, you know?

Jessica rushed up to me when she heard our adoption story and told me she wants to help. Then she spent the rest of the weekend making me smile and feel special.

Amanda encouraged me to be more intentional in mothering.

Jen amazed me with her grace and sweet, calm spirit. She’s raising quadruplets, people! Boy quadruplets! It exhausts me just thinking of it.

Erin and Brooke speak directly to the hearts of mother’s of boys. Nish keeps it real and tells it like it is and in so doing requires you to stop and think about this journey called faith with a little more depth.

I heard amazing speakers like Jen Hatmaker who encouraged us to push our children toward courage. Don’t hover over them. Safety isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “I don’t want to be the reason my children have chosen safety and comfort over courage,” she said.

I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with Vicki Courtney who later encouraged us all at the conference to be aware of the dangers of media and how the internet, with all it’s goodness, can also be a crutch to both us and our children. “You need to lighten up from trying to be the perfect mother,” she encouraged.

There was so much good that came out of last weekend, so many wonderful people met, so much laughter and praise. But perhaps the moment that impacted me most came late one evening, after we had raised our arms in worship together. I met Amanda Jones, a fellow Compassion Blogger and a sweet woman with a deep heart for Jesus.

Amanda and I spoke of the adoption and the many times I sit back in doubt. Will God provide? I say with my lips that He is bigger than the funds needed, but do I believe it with my heart? As we spoke, Amanda reached forward and grabbed my hands. “Can I pray with you?” she asked.

And she did. And I believed.

And just like that, all insecurity fled and I came home filled with…peace – ready to face the dark corners and excited to see what comes after each next step.

What are you facing that insecurity threatens to ruin?

Filed Under: Adoption, Blogging, faith, Family, Grace, Life Tagged With: Adoption, dotMOM, friendships, insecurity, me and my thoughts

How to dress like a mom without LOOKING like a mom

September 19, 2012 by Kelli

Yesterday, I made my way downtown to the County Clerk’s office to track down yet another elusive form needed for the adoption. When I entered the building, I decided to run into the bathroom before heading up to the sixteenth floor. Friends, what I saw upon glancing in the mirror both shocked and horrified me.

I looked like a mom.

But Kelli, you ARE a mom.

Yes, I know. I know I’m a mom. I’m a mom who drives a minivan, no less. BUT IT DOESN’T MEAN I HAVE I LOOK LIKE IT!

I had put zero effort into my appearance before leaving the house yesterday. I hadn’t even brushed my hair!

(But I did brush my teeth. Go me.)

(For Real. GO! ME!)

I had simply pulled my dirty, greasy hair back into a ponytail, slapped on a little mascara and chapstick, threw on the first clothes I managed to grab out of the drawer (in the dark, no less, since I woke up before the sun) and I skipped into a very public place looking like I’d been hit by a truck.

Case in point:

A couple of months ago, I bought the above pictured shorts at GAP. I didn’t try them on when I bought them which means I came home with a pair of shorts that were one size too big (which is always more encouraging than coming home with shorts that are too small, mind you).

Because I am the most ~~orgainzed~~ scatterbrained person on the planet, I almost immediately lost the receipt and decided they weren’t really that bad as long as I belted them. They were kind of comfy, actually.

Lee came to me the second time I wore those pants and leaned in close. “You know those are Mom-Shorts, right? They totally give you Mom-Butt.”

I’m not entirely sure what Mom-Butt means, but the way he said it did not lead me to believe that it was something I should be striving for. I was a bit disappointed as I really loved the shorts, so I decided they would just be around the house comfy shorts from there on out.

Until yesterday, when I had a moment of terrible mombrainitis and decided to leave the house in said Mom-Shorts. I also had Tevas on my feet, which let’s face it, scream Mom-With-A-Minivan.

At least it wasn’t a skort and Keds! Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Upon seeing my unkempt appearance, however, I made a resolve to try juuuuust a scooch harder to put forth an effort in my appearance before heading out in public. Thus, I give you:

I generally tend to leave the house looking a bit frayed for a few different reasons. Sometimes it’s pure laziness. I don’t feel like washing my face, or brushing my hair, or putting on a semi-cute outfit.

Sometimes it’s because I’m running late. We moms generally have to attend to all the chicks in the flock before we can fluff our own feathers (how do you like that metaphor, eh?) which means we run out of time to do anything more than make sure we at least have the proper undergarments on before leaving the house.

(Um…there’s a chance I’ve left the house in the past without even getting to this step. Maybe. I mean, I won’t say for sure, but…)

Sometimes I have high and lofty expectations of getting to the gym after I drop children off where they need to be and I have no desire to try and look cute only to go work out. More often than not, though, I never make it to the gym so I walk around looking like a drowned gym rat without ever having worked a muscle.

*hangs head in shame*

So what is a busy mom to do? How do I dress like a mom without looking like a mom?

First things first. I will fix my hair!

Even if I’m throwing it into a ponytail, I can still brush it. And if it’s dirty? Well, that is the perfect excuse to invest in a couple of cute hats. Am I right?

Second – Never underestimate the power of accesories:

Yes, it’s only September, which in Florida means we are now enjoying temps in the mid to high ’80’s every day. Not exactly scarf weather, but how cute is this lovely? I have been dying to wear it, so yesterday I put it on over a tank top with a pair of jeans and voila! Cute outfit in less than ten minutes!

Third: Wear clothes that fit. I dunno, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Mom-Butt has something to do with shapeless formless clothing, giving one the appearance of a wide, saggy derriere. Just conjecture, but I’m pretty sure I’ve hit the nail on the head.

Fourth: Make up. I know some of you are so naturally beautiful that you simply don’t need make up. I salute you (and I’m secretly envious).

I am not one of those people. I mean, I’m not afraid to leave the house without make up, but I also feel MUCH more secure with a little bit of color on my cheeks and some mascara to give the old eyes a lift. Just me. Even if I’m going to the gym, I’m putting on a little make up.

Because I would rather not scare everyone in my path!

Finally – a pair of cute shoes goes an awfully long way. They can make or break an otherwise drab outfit. I mean, even a skort can be dressed up with the right pair of shoes.

Hmm? What’s that? Forget trying to make the skort sound good ’cause you’re not buying it? REALLY?!

Is it time to give up on the idea of the Skort? *sigh* Fine…back to the shoes.

Listen, just because I have three kids, am nestled somewhere in my thirties and drive a minivan doesn’t mean I have to abandon all hope of dressing sassy. Even if I’m headed to the gym, I can do so looking cute and put together. I can look like a mom without LOOKING like a mom.

Know what I mean?

Have any cute fashion tips for us frazzled, busy Moms? Do share!

*PS-Please know this is all written very tongue in cheek. It’s not meant to offend. Here’s the obligatory winky face emoticon so you know I’m only writing in jest: 😉