Telling Stories

When the Flood Waters Came...

Perhaps you remember, not long after we moved in to this house, I wrote this post about why a man needs a man cave.  Part of the reason we loved this house so much was that Adam finally got an actual recording studio of his own. 

It was on our wish list, very high up, because writing musicals requires that he has a space to really work. And the first floor is tricky given the little people who live with us. 

Wednesday night, Adam went down to work and seconds later, called me to his office. I could tell by the tone of his voice something was wrong...and I just knew it was the water. It had been raining for days and days, but Wednesday was the worst of it. 

Adam's floor now felt like a water bed and the water had seeped through to the storage room. 

Worse, I was having a major stomach issue Wednesday night so I was almost completely worthless. I woke up the next morning to discover my husband had been sweeping and sucking and wringing out water all night long. 

It had reached through the storage room all the way to my office. 

And really, there was no stopping it. His floor had started to buckle and now mine was doing the same.

Neither of us has ever felt so helpless in our lives. 

But something happened to us in that moment. We got the kids off to school, rolled up our sleeves, ate a couple of these:

And went to work. It was like we were doing battle with this water. We joined half the town at Home Depot where we bought an auxiliary pump, a squeegee mop, garbage bins and toilet paper (just because we were out, not because it helped with the water.) 

We stood outside in the rain marveling at the water that just kept coming, it was seeping up everywhere. 

If ever there would've been a time to justify a pair of cute wellies, now was it...

Our pond flooded:

Our yard kept producing disgusting creatures that made me shudder:

And our sump pump, which appeared to be slow on the draw, deposited all the water right back into the same spot...right next to our house. 

(Let me just commend the genius who decided that was a good idea.) 

We stayed pragmatic. Even when we tore out the floor we'd picked out and put down ourselves only a few short months ago. 

Even when we took a hammer and started destroying the walls we'd carefully painted in the color Adam chose.

And as we did each of these things, the water just kept coming...

Buckets and buckets and buckets full.

Until finally, Adam took the shop vac (best Christmas present I ever bought him) outside and sucked all the water away from the house. 

That was finally when we started to see some progress. When the wall stopped wailing and I started to think maybe...just maybe we would sleep that night. 

The room was a very sad state.

Boxes and boxes in our storage room were ruined...we haven't even had the heart to look through them yet. Most of them contained scrapbooking related things. 

All day Thursday, I felt like I had such a great attitude about this whole thing. I mean, there we were, watching as our home was invaded by this force we had absolutely no control over...

And we just kept pushing forward. We slept hard on Thursday night and when I woke up on Friday, that's when it hit, the emotion of the situation. I knew we were SO LUCKY (not that I believe in luck.) I knew it could've been SO MUCH WORSE. I was thanking God our computers with all of our work were spared and as far as I can tell, so were most of our photos. 

We heard reports of people nearby with FEET (like, six) of water in their basement. And that would've been us had Adam not gone downstairs to work on Wednesday night. 

I spent the day mostly depressed, feeling violated in some weird way...

And then yesterday, I found out from the insurance guy that we have to rip up the carpet in the art room. 

Yeah. The room I finished a few weeks ago. 

It's hard to focus on that silver lining, I guess...when all around me I see more and more work. (Do you know how hard it'll be to clear out MY office to put down a new floor?)  We have a son who is severely allergic to mold, a moist basement that reeks of this odd cat odor and lots and lots of work to do... 

Still, in spite of that, I feel thankful. We did battle and we came out on the other side a little worse for wear, but mostly okay. 

And knowing it really, really could've been so much worse. 

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How To Get Your Blessing

I have a story to tell, but I don't think I'm quite ready yet. It's one of those I know God is real stories, so I'm sure at some point I'll share it, but it's still wrapping itself around my heart, and I kind of like it there. So I'll hold onto it a little while longer. 

But I can tell you, God showed up for us in a really big way. In a way that spoke to me, personally. 

It started me thinking about blessing. So many people I know deserve to be blessed.  Blessed in a knock your socks off kind of way. And I don't feel like I'm one of them, so why had God shown up for us?...Why...when for others, the blessing feels worlds away?

Years ago, I was led to believe there was almost a "magic formula" for "getting a blessing." It was almost like if you went to church whenever the doors were open, tithed, gave in the offering, worked...worked...worked...you would surely be blessed. 

Like God was a gumball machine. You put in, you get out. 

That was God, right? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. 

By the same thought, when things weren't going well, when I was feeling stretched or "attacked" or frustrated, I started to look at what I was doing wrong. Why was God punishing me? Did I forget to give? Forget to WORK? 

And then I stepped away. And I chased after the heart of God. The heart of a father, who loves us and who offers grace. Every day. And in those Colorado moments, I saw how we'd been led to believe something that was not true. 

 I started to look back at the moments leading up to this blessing, and I searched for that magic combination of action and obedience and work, work, work. 

At what point did I do enough that God decided to bless? 

And the answer was so clear. The blessing came when I stopped trying to work for it. 

The Bible says to work OUT your faith. Not Work FOR your faith. 

So often, leaders lead with shame. If you don't show up to something or you don't give enough or you trip and fall or sin or question or doubt or wonder... you're led to believe that you've just opened your whole life to ruin. It's almost that "God's gonna get ya" feeling and you end up living in fear of ticking him off.

That's not the Jesus I know. 

I don't believe that God expects us to be perfect. If we were, why would need him?

I believe he simply wants our hearts. He wants us to love him and to accept the grace he's given. To do what he asks, even when it's hard. 

And not to judge each other. 

And not to use the Bible to condemn each other. 

And not to try to work so hard that we forget what it was we were working for in the first place. 

Don't get me wrong, I think it's crucial that my work has eternal value. I want to live a right life. I want to live a life that makes God smile. I want to hear his voice and then do what he says... but not because I'm looking for some blessing. I'm not playing the lottery here. 

It's because I've glimpsed his heart and because I know what he has for me (and you) is the blessing. 

Just rest in the knowing that he loves you enough not to leave you where you are. And when you're being stretched, it might not make sense...but don't try to earn your way out of it. 

There is no magic formula. There is only his grace. 

And that happens to be free. 

Announcing ALL NEW Beautiful Girl Art Workshops for May {Rockford, IL}

I'm sitting in my office wishing I had a caffeine IV and wondering if spring will ever arrive. It's cold and rainy again today (the fourth day in a row) and honestly, I stayed up too late last night. 

I might've been watching Nashville and admiring Connie Britton's hair. Perhaps. 

As usual, I have a load of things to do today, including getting groceries in the rain. Because when you turn Minute Rice into a meal, you know you're at the bottom of the cabinet. In spite of that, I'm excited to announce a new art workshop for the month of May. We're going to make this sweet owl: 

...which was inspired by a 2-3 year old painting I recently sold: 

The new one is a bit different and I really wanted to have a chance to make the words about the girls who will take this workshop. What God says they are...hoping this voice will be louder than all the other voices that might tell them they are something else entirely. 

My hope is that they'll hang it in a place where they can see it daily...so they can remember they are beautiful and valuable and worthy and loved. 

Anyway, I have limited space so the workshops have been filling up quickly (which has been a huge blessing...) but here is the nitty gritty:

I decided to do a Mother/Daughter Art Day this month in honor of Mother's Day and because I've had so many mothers and daughters come out to do this together. I LOVE that. Doing art with my own kids was the inspiration for this in the first place!

If you're local, you might be asking "What is 'The Cravery'?" In fact, a friend of mine texted me this last night... and rather than tell you, I think I'll just show you what we're doing for treats this month at the Beautiful Girl Art Workshops:

Yeah, it's really just a whole lotta yum. Last week at my Girl's Art Night Out, the owner, Melissa stopped by with a bin full of ridiculousness. Her cupcakes are so good. (You can follow her on Facebook for more info.) Right now she's doing a special promo where she's taking nominations for offices that deserve free cupcakes and then she's going to deliver a dozen to one very lucky office. 

That one right there is called death by chocolate. 

So, you can't get much better than art + cupcakes, right? The cost of the workshop is all-inclusive. You won't need to bring anything else except maybe an apron or some painty clothes. (So far I've gotten paint on myself every single class.) 

The thing I'm loving about these classes is that nobody's painting looks the same. I'm not putting together a kit...you get to choose your own colors and paints. It ends up being really fun to see people matching colors to their room or making artistic choices of their own. LOVE the creativity flowing through here!

I didn't expect to love it quite so much, but there ya have it. If you're interested in taking a class, shoot me an email! I'm also doing birthday parties and private groups so if you have a group of friends and want to do Girl's Art Night Out of your very own, that's all up for grabs! (And how fun would that be?!)

Happy {rainy} Thursday to you!

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When the Mighty Fall {Or What I Learned From the Joel Osteen Hoax}

The other day, a Facebook post led me to a blog where Joel Osteen apparently stated he was no longer a Christian. 

In it, there was a quote from the man, saying he now believed the Bible to be a work of fiction...and at the end of this post, an announcement for a fundraiser for Joel. 

I admit it, I bought it. Hook, line and sinker. I don't know if it was an April Fool's joke gone horribly wrong, or someone's attempt at showing us how gullible we are, but it made me stop and wonder about a couple of things. First, what else is being put out there that I believe...that isn't true? 

The site made it look like it was quoting CNN. It had images and video. All taken out of context. All very convincing. And every bit of it, a lie.

My heart dropped as I read Osteen's supposed comments. How could he abandon his faith? And what would that do to all the millions of people who rely on him as a teacher and an example? Would they recover? Would they leave the faith? Because when you're hurt by your leadership... that's often what happens. 

And while in this case, thankfully, it was all a ridiculous fabrication, (one that Osteen has since said is comical) you have to wonder...when men fall, who cleans up the mess? Because men do fall, you know. And so do women. And anyone who is human. 

I've experienced this kind of disappointment more than once...where you realize someone you hold in high regard is really just as flawed as everyone else. It's hard when people are so selfish they put their own desires ahead of the needs of those they're leading. It's frustrating and sad and so very wrong. 

And while I've wrapped my brain around the idea that I can't put my faith in a person, that I have to put my faith in God, that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt when someone lets you down. 

Or lets a bunch of people down. 

And while I wish it never happened, the fact is, that sometimes people get caught up in pride or greed or lust or whatever else leads us away...and it doesn't change the fact that God is still God. He's not surprised by any of it. He's not even surprised when people don't admit they're wrong. When people pretend they're justified. When people hurt other people for their own gain. 

It's the world we live in.

And while it's sad, it's not enough to ever make me blame any of it on a God who loves me and saved me and redeems me. His grace isn't something any of us can really understand. It's out of the realm of human comprehension. 

I've tried to make sense of a lot of my questions and I've come up empty. People are people. They hurt each other. They sin. They fall. They fail. 

But God loves us through it. No matter how damaged we are. 

I'm thankful Joel Osteen didn't really turn his back on Christianity...but if he had, would it have changed what I believe? 

Not for one second. His love and his mercy and his grace...no man's sin can ever change those things. And for that, I am grateful. 

"This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life."

--John 3:16, The Message Bible

Just Begin.

A few posts back I told you about my Beautiful Girl Art Workshop and before that I told you how I first made the decision to start these art classes...but if you've known me over the past couple of years, you might be a little bit baffled as to how I, a self professed, borderline agorphobe have become a hostess and teacher in my own home. 

First, there's the obvious social aspect which only a year ago might have had me near-panic...but even more than that, there's the fact that I've had three art workshops and have two more sold out this month...and my art room isn't even finished yet. 

This is NOT like me. I sort of struggle with worrying too much what people think, and I'm not a particularly gifted home decorator, so I double-worry... but when we decided to tackle this, I made the decision to announce the classes when my room still looked like this:

It was a family room for the previous owners, and we assumed that's what we'd use it for too...but then we kind of fell in love with our living room (and we like having everyone together) so when Adam suggested an art room...I got on board. 

But there was NO way I was going to try and do anything inspiring in this sad, sad room. 

I had a plan to get everything magazine ready before I ever allowed anyone to step one foot in this room. (Are you laughing at me?) 

First, I removed the random piece of skinny wood in the middle of the wall (this is NOT a chair rail, people...) and then I embarked on yet another wallpaper removal adventure...but this wasn't just any wallpaper. It was spongepainted. 

And it was from the devil. 

Then I painted. 

It became clear the day before my first class that everything was not going to get done. So the first two classes, the room looked like this:

Brighter and not so sad...but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted, you know, awesome. 

I did what I could where I could...but it was far from awesome. It was more like "meh."

And yet, not one person seemed to mind. 

So, before Saturday's Girl's Art Night Out, I knew I wanted to move on to Phase Two. The trim. And thankfully, Urban Farmgirl was open this weekend so I picked up two adorable banners (which I'd love to hang all over the room eventually...) and I hung them up. 

With thumbtacks. 

Not centered. 

And I thought "This wall is still so bare..." but it was better than it had been and I loved the white trim! 

I attempted to spray paint the gold doorknobs. It did NOT work. At all. So, Saturday night my doors had no knobs. 

No one seemed to notice. (Until I pointed it out.) 

Oddly, even though the room isn't exactly where I want it and none of the chairs match...there were still a ton of smiles. Lots of creative juices flowing...and it made me wonder why I ever worry about things like this in the first place. 

Who really cares if things are perfect (are they ever?) 

Who minds if they're sitting in a black chair and the person next to them is in a silver one? 

How many times have I let these kinds of worries keep me from doing something amazing? 

I've learned that sometimes you just have to begin. You won't have everything figured out right away. I sure didn't know how to write a novel when I started, but I had to start. I had to dive in...I figured it out as I went (and then shoved that novel into a very dark drawer where it will never see the light of day...)

If I waited until this room was ready, I would've had zero classes so far and I would've missed out on the blessing of all these wonderful smiles. All this inspiring creativity. 

Before everyone shows up for a class, I walk into this unfinished room and I pray. I ask God to be here, to bless the time in this space. I ask him to use this space and make it something fun and creative and inspiring and encouraging...

A place where maybe someone will reconnect with a forgotten dream or realize they are creative after all. (Because everyone is, you know.)

I'm so thankful that I'm finally learning to take some of the pressure off myself and to just begin. 

Because a room doesn't have to be awesome for awesome things to happen in it. 

Happy Creating!

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Happy Art

On Hope & Disappointment

Last night we went out to a cute little building on the edge of town. It was near a movie theater which made me realize it's been a long time since I went to the movies, which made me think "I need a 'me date' here pretty soon." 

Going to the movies alone is such a great way to reconnect with yourself. 

In that little building, there were 120 or so kids walking up a staircase into a small, overly heated room to sing their little hearts out. Auditions for Les Miserables went on for 4+ hours...and if you know the show, you know it's a big deal. 

Our daughter is at that age. The in-between age. The age where she's too young to be a little kid and too old to be a grown-up, even in a show being presented by kids. There were many in her same boat. We prepared her and made sure she knew her age was going to be a hindrance this time around... and she understood, I think. 

But this morning, when she went off to school, I wondered if she was secretly disappointed she didn't get that call-back. Had she let herself hope? And would this disappointment keep her from hoping again? 

Because that's often what happens, isn't it? We get our hopes up and when we feel crushed, we decide we aren't good enough or that we aren't willing to feel that pain again.

So we stop hoping. 

I tend to be quite cynical. Recently, I was waiting on some contract news for a book proposal and my heart was heavy for so many days, and I wasn't hopeful, I was anxious. And worried. And what if I never got another book deal? What if I had my day in the sun? Would I ever recover? If I wasn't a novelist...what would I be?

And somehow, something inside clicked, and I started to realize if I didn't get another book deal, that God must have something different for me to do. And suddenly it was like the pressure was off me because I had resigned myself to giving it over to him. 

Really giving it over, not just saying I was giving it over and still clutching it with both hands when no one was looking. 

I understand disappointment. And I know what it's like to stop hoping your dream is going to come true, but if you can, just for a moment, put your hope in God's plan for your life, and trust that he knows what he's doing... to give that more weight than someone else's opinion of you...you'll find that hope is a very good thing. 

So often we get caught up in getting a job or a promotion or a part in a show. We get carried away by accolades and applause. We thrive on it. We strive for it. 

But I'm learning that it's so much more important what God thinks of us. And I know that sounds like something you'd hear from a pulpit on a Sunday morning, but I actually believe it. 

And the funny thing is, usually when you stop clinging to your own plan...and resign yourself to living out His plan...your dreams start to come true. Because you start to dream the dream He's dropped in your heart. 

Go on and hope. It's a very good thing. 

Achievement Addiction

Humans are born with an innate need to succeed. To please others, to do a good job, to achieve. I think I was born with a double dose of this need. 

The need for achievement. It's a bit like an addiction, really. Something you need whether it's good for you or not... Years ago now I made a conscious decision to stop comparing my work with the work of other people, but it still creeps in sometimes. You see what other people are doing and you assume you have to do the same. 

I need to write more books. I need to build a bigger online presence. I need to build a recognizable brand, have online classes, host a creative retreat, change lives, move people, heal the world... 

I've been praying for contentment. Not the kind where I pretend to be content, but genuine, down in my bones contentment...and I think throughout the past few months, I've discovered where it lies. 

In the small things of my life. 

And while I feel like perhaps I've had the start of this revelation before, it never sunk in the way it has now. See, when you're an achievement addict, you get all of your self worth from what you accomplish. 

This makes for some very stressful days. You run around and do and forget to sit still and fail at domestic things in the quest for greatness...as you attempt to achieve more. And I have to tell you... it's exhausting. 

Lately I've been thinking about the way I spend my days. What I do with each minute matters, and if each minute is spent trying to achieve but failing to connect with anyone, then I don't think I'm truly living out my purpose. 

What if I'm called to live a small life? And by small I don't mean "small", I just mean, what if I shed the need to achieve? What if I let all those stressful expectations I have for myself just go... let them fall away like a cocoon does as the butterfly emerges?

Do you really need a large audience to shine? 

What if I'm meant to shine right here in my little life? How can I make that happen instead of being critical of myself all the time for what I haven't achieved yet? 

Don't get me wrong. I think God loves when we work at hard at something, but what I've realized is that working hard isn't a replacement for loving well. I LOVE hard work. I love work. I love getting to the end of a day and feeling like I was productive.

But does it make Him love me more? Not a chance. 

And I think that's what it all comes down to. This need to earn love and approval. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head I had to work for grace. If you've ever been in a situation where how you were treated depended on how you performed (that's manipulation, by the way), then maybe this is for you. 

Because I can tell you...you don't earn grace. It's there for the taking. And God's love for you isn't contingent on whether or not you checked certain things off your spiritual to-do list. 

What if we just let it go? 

What if we worked hard at loving well first and let everything else fall into place? What if we focused on the people right in our little worlds, on their reactions, on their needs, on their lives? 

Wouldn't that make our lives shine a little brighter? 

I'll keep you posted. 

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The Simple Life...Birthday & Easter Edition

Sophia realized several weeks ago that her birthday fell on Easter this year. Twelve years was something to celebrate, but Easter meant commitments and none of them the birthday kind. 

So, we kind of stretched her birthday out over the entire weekend. We took the kids to our favorite pizza place, Giordano's. It was great to get back to Family Friday after the show.

Pictures of that HERE on my instagram. (Are you on instagram?) 

Sophia is hard to shop for this year. She told me she wanted "socks and underwear" (neither of which I ended up getting her. I completely forgot.) What do you do with that, anyway? I can't really get her socks and underwear!

Instead, we got her a "magic purse." It was stuffed with gift cards (this is a great way to stay on budget) and a little bit of cash for her to spend on a shopping trip, which is what we did all day Saturday.

I loved spending the day with her, searching for dresses, which is mostly what she wanted to buy. (She ended up with four!) 

I opted not to go crazy over the top for Easter this year. We didn't budget for lots of Easter basket stuff (and my mom does those at her house) and I wanted to get the kids clothes they'd wear again. I feel a bit like I'm losing tradition, but it suited us this year...

Even though I didn't really get one great photo of all three of my hooligans. 

I knew better than to try to force the boys into "fancy clothes" (as Sam says) anyway...

As it was, I thought we might run into trouble when he decided his jacket was "a girl color." 

Clearly, he's taken to posing for pictures...can you tell?

He could give his dad a pointer or two.

We had a good weekend. A family weekend. Reconnecting and reminding us what's important... sometimes it's easy to get caught up in trying to do so much but really I just want simple. It's my new quest. 

Peaceful wins out over stressful every day of the week...don't you agree? 

Sophia and I closed out her birthday with a movie. We stayed up till 11 because she doesn't have school today and I loved every second of it. 

I'm proud of the girl she's becoming...someone who is independent and confident, who doesn't seem to care too much what other people think or say. I love and envy this about her. What a blessing she is in my life. 

Happy Birthday, Peanut. You Shine. You Shine. You Shine. 

Beautiful Girl Art Workshop {Rockford, Illinois}

Yesterday was my first Art Workshop here at my house. I am still learning how to streamline a class of people working at different paces, but it was so much fun!

This is the project we worked on:

I never really got a very good photo of it, but oh well. 

Everyone created their own version with their own words, and their big dreams are written on the backs of their airplanes and sealed in tight.

I had a room full of girls, all ages, and while I was a little nervous at first, it ended up being so much fun!

I love when people realize how easy this stuff is...and my hope is that it's therapy for them like it is for me. Or at least a fun new hobby! 

I LOVE when people put their own spin on things, like my friend Patty whose airplane TOTALLY reflects her personality:

She and her daughter came to the class together and both left with adorable art.

But I also had some littles, who are so much fun. I LOVE this painting and LOVE that she came up with this all on her own. I hope she always feels like a princess.

By the time the class started I almost forgot that only two hours later I was sopping up toilet water when the main floor toilet overflowed all over the place. 

If you'd like to be on the mailing list for future classes, just shoot me an email at courtneyrwalsh {at} gmail {dot} com (don't forget the R in the first part!) and I'll be sure to let you know. I have two classes set for April but they're already pretty much sold out, so I'll be adding another one. I also think it'd be fun to do birthday parties, Girl Scout troupes or private parties. Let me know if you're interested!

My second class is tomorrow...I can't wait to get the creative juices flowing in here again!

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Building a Real Life Presence

I think I'm going through a new revelation as of late. 

I love how God reveals things to me...bits at a time. Especially things about myself, and lately, that's been happening a lot. I guess he's not finished working on me. (No surprise here.) 

I have a tendency to commit myself to things that I later wish I hadn't. I'll agree to do something and then the night before have near-panic attacks wondering WHY did I say I would do this? I struggle a bit with anxiety, I guess. 

Before rehearsals started for Hercules I had a pre-panic moment where I thought "What if this is one of those things? What if I regret doing this? What if I end up not being okay with giving up every weekened for the next eight weeks?" Two months of Friday nights and Saturdays is a lot, after all.

Don't you think it's funny how I panicked that I might panic? (I know. It's ridiculous.)

But a funny, awesome, amazing thing happened...I LOVED it. I mean, I didn't just like it a little bit. I LOVED it. There was never a rehearsal that I dreaded. Even the one Adam couldn't come to (and I'm aware that I sometimes use him as my crutch.) But it stretched me. And I LOVED it. 

For two years I blogged from Colorado about being agorophobic, about loving my yoga pants, about holing away in my house and preferring to be alone... and I did. And I think maybe I needed to. See, those years were about deprogramming, about re-learning who God really is, about reconnecting with my purpose. Those were quiet years in which I discovered that it really doesn't matter what people think. I'm here to serve ONE master. 

And He doesn't judge or criticize. He loves and loves and loves. 

Near the end of our time in Colorado, I realized I was ready to love that way. I was ready to encourage and uplift. I was healed enough to be able to look a child in the eyes and promise them God made them for a reason. 

And there's nothing quite like that. 

I've spent a couple of years working on an "online presence" only to realize that while I will continue to work on that for the sake of my writing career, nothing even comes close to a "real life presence." Nothing matches real faces and real hugs and real moments. 

I have a lot of thoughts tumbling around about those Colorado years...I'm SO thankful for them because they did so much good for us. There isn't a single doubt in my mind that for a number of reasons, we needed to be away. But my heart is so full with gratitude that God brought us back here, back to discover that we're meant to rejoin real life. 

Regardless of our old hurts or our trust issues. Regardless of the ways people have let us down. Regardless of the fact that yoga pants are actually the most comfortoable clothes on the planet. 

And I for one am thrilled to be among the land of the living again. 

****

In other news, today is the first day of another new adventure...my Beautiful Girl Art Workshop is this afternoon, and I can't wait to give you a recap later this week! (Email me if you want to be on my mailing list for future classes. I have limited space and the classes have sold out fairly quickly, but I've got lots more in the works!)

****

And finally...the Winner of Jerusalem Greer's A Homemade Year is Patti at Pandora's Box! Patti, email your address to me at courtneycrops {at} msn {dot} com and we'll get your prize shipped out! :) 

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A Big Change. A New Adventure.

Celebrating {A Homemade Year} with a Giveaway!!

I'm dusting myself off after a couple of weeks of chaos, finally feeling a bit recovered, though not entirely normal yet...but I had to come back to the land of the living to share a little about something fabulous by someone fabulous. 

It's got to be one of the very best things to sit on the sidelines with my pom pons cheering for friends who make a decision to dive headfirst into the land of their dreams. 

Because you know dreaming is mostly about doing and you won't get anywhere if you don't get up and start...(Just sayin'.) 

In the chaos of show week, I got some very happy mail and it looked like this:

It wasn't the first time I'd seen the book as I was fortunate enough to write an endorsement for it a few months ago, but it was the first time I'd seen it printed and in FULL COLOR and I felt this swell of excitement for my friend, authorJerusalem Greer. 

All the emotions she must be feeling...I remember them well...and I am SO excited I get to tell you a little more about A Homemade Year and give a copy of this book away. 

This book is the coolest collection of faith, recipes, crafts, entertainment ideas and personal stories and I can honestly say I've never read a book like it. It's like Jerusalem took all the things we love the most and focused on those. (She's even inspired ME to try a few recipes!) 

So, all that said, I am SO excited to offer you a chance to win this book for yourself. Trust me, you want it. It's the kind of book you can get lost in...and it's so PRETTY. 

Just look:

So, how do you WIN this beauty for yourself?

Simply leave a comment on this post answering the question: "What's your favorite holiday?" I won't even make you tell me why (unless you want to which I would love.) 

BUT, that's not all...if you Blog, Tweet, Facebook or PIN this book/giveaway, you can come back here and leave another comment for each one that you do. That means, you actually have FIVE chances to win. 

 

Not a bad deal, eh? 

BUT...if you're like me and you just want to hurry up and crack this baby open already, then head right over to Amazon where you can snag your own copy of A Homemade Year without any waiting! 

Contest closes Monday so start sharing! And congrats to you, sweet Jerusalem! You should be so very proud of this beautiful book! 

You Can't Live Your Life From Behind a Computer Screen

What I know for sure. 

You can convince yourself you don't really need face to face interaction with people...because sometimes you don't. Sometimes you need quiet. Sometimes you need to rest and be still. 

Sometimes you need to work or write or dream. 

And that often requires alone time. 

But a few years ago, somehow, I convinced myself that I didn't really need that human interaction...that I was just fine behind the computer. I could still connect and communicate, after all, I prefer the written word. 

But you know what I realize now? I was hurt. I was scared. I was in "protection mode." Because when people turn out not to be what they said they were, that has an affect on you...and it's easy to go into hiding when you're hurt. 

Now, though, I realize that's not where we're meant to stay. I think our journey to Colorado allowed me the quiet, alone time I needed. I convinced myself I was an introvert and faceless interactions were sufficient. After this experience directing our show with nearly 100 kids and their families, I know better. 

Nothing takes the place of the human connection. 

Maybe you're like me, and you've built a nest around yourself, allowing only a very small handful of people entry...maybe you've spun a web of protection, to keep from getting hurt, convinced you don't need anyone or anything. Maybe you're overly cautious...

I was. I'd been hurt. I'd had the wool pulled over my eyes. I'd been fooled. 

But that "protection" I created for myself really just kept me from fulfilling a part of my purpose. See, we aren't meant to live lonely lives. We're meant to encourage and uplift and inspire each other...and yes, words do that, but they cannot, not even for a second, replace the face to face. 

That's a connection that can't be replaced. 

And why would we want it to be? 

There are lots of emotions flooding through me this afternoon as I decompress from several stressful, rewarding, challenging, amazing weeks...but mostly I'm just feeling so thankful that God brought us back here, to work with these kids, to purpose to encourage them and to watch them shine. 

I couldn't do any of that from behind a computer screen...

 

Spotlight Youth Theater's "Hercules"

 

So many thoughts about this whole production, but I have to be back at the theatre in a half an hour so I'll just say this...

If you're local to Rockford, IL, come see Hercules this weekend! Tickets are available on the Spotlight website HERE or at the door. 

We are so proud of our cast, crew and everyone who has worked so hard to pull this show off...what a whirlwind! 

Hope to see you there!

When Dreams Don't Come True

When I was a kid, a neighbor loaned me their bootleg copy of a movie I don't think I was supposed to watch. The Goonies quickly became a personal classic and I literally memorized it. Part of the infatuation was my huge crush on Sean Astin. 

Last week, for whatever reason, I started thinking about that scene in the wishing well, the one where Mouth steals the coins and Steph says "You can't do that. Those are somebody else's wishes. Somebody else's dreams." 

And Mouth says, "Well, you know what? This one right here...this was my dream--my wish--and it didn't come true. So I'm taking it back. I'm taking them all back." 

My first thought now, as an adult, is "Really, kid? You're twelve." 

But I get it. Sometimes dreams don't come true. 

I've always been a big dreamer...

When I was a kid, I wanted to be an actor. It was the only thing I really loved...and it took me awhile to figure out that it was okay for me to not love the things everyone else loved. I wasn't good at sports. I had no athletic ability. I didn't enjoy that kind of play. 

But the stage? That got me jazzed. 

So that's what I studied. I studied acting. I went to school and majored in theatre. I spent a summer studying in New York and had every intention of returning after I graduated. I had HUGE dreams...

But somewhere along the way, my priorities shifted. Suddenly, I realized I didn't want to live an actor's life. I didn't want to live audition to audition, working all hours. I wanted a family and I didn't want to raise them in the big city. 

So, looking back, does that mean I failed? Or that I gave up? 

I don't think so. I think it means I found a bigger "Yes." 

Maybe there's a dream you had once. You put in the time, the energy, the work, the effort...and it didn't come true. Does that mean you failed? 

Or could it be that you, like me, were following your passion--your calling--your gut instinct, even though, in the end, it didn't turn out the way you thought it would? 

See, I'm not an actor anymore. I honestly have very little desire to ever be on stage again. But the training I received in pursuing that dream...it is still, to this day, invaluable. As a writer, being able to take on a character, to pull myself into someone else's skin, that's vital. 

Because of the time I spent on stage and immersed in scripts, I understand dialogue. I get "show don't tell" a lot better now. I've got a better sense of the storyworld. All of those exercises and experiences make it easier for me to pursue the big dreams I have now.

But that's only part of it. My study of the theatre came out of pure passion and ambition. But now, with that training, I'm able to take what I know and impart it to other people in the shows we direct. Before I made the decision to quit my job, Adam asked me, "When are you the happiest?" 

My answer? "When I'm writing, doing art with the kids or directing a show." 

See, that big dream became the first layer in uncovering my purpose. That I want to be a famous actress was step one in determining what it was that was going to make me happy. If I hadn't pursued it, I wouldn't know...there would be a big piece of my life that was missing. 

Today, as you look back on those big dreams, some of them are still within your reach...but some of them were just step one on the way to something better. Something that you perhaps didn't see before.

Can you stop looking at your bigger "YES" as a failure and start seeing it for what it is? A very important clue to discovering your purpose. 

A Question for You: Do you still beat yourself up over dreams that didn't come true? 

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Dreaming the Impossible.

Today I find myself without many words. 

I guess sometimes when I get really busy, I get quiet. I need to be quiet right now. 

I've been thinking a lot about what I want to impart to the kids in our show over the next week and a half...what do I really want to leave them with...and I think I've figured it out. 

It's simple, really, and it's something I've been trying to remind myself of lately. 

It's this:

I have a lot more to say on the subject...the idea of dreaming big and looking back on dreams that didn't come true...

How that can be a huge blessing. 

But I'm still mulling, pondering, thinking...

So for today, this is all I have. 

Your impossible dreams...aren't. 

Snow Day {And A New Adventure}

So, yesterday we were completely snowed in. School was called off the night before and our kids still got up at 6:30. 

Someone needs to educate them in the appropriate way to enjoy a snow day.

It snowed all day, and we ended up getting a good foot. Since we're at the end of a cul-de-sac, we now have a mountain of snow in front of our house. 

The kids are in heaven.

I've lived in Illinois my entire life, and this is the first year I just HATE driving in this stuff. I think it's because my van doesn't handle so well and I get stuck a lot. (Which means I hold up traffic and if you know me in real life, you know I hate to hold other people up. I sweat and get all flushed in the face.) 

Never mind the insane amount of people who don't care if they hold me up...for whatever reason I am genetically engineered to worry. 

Even about being in people's way on the road. Or in the grocery store. Or in line at the bank. 

Notice I took all these photos from inside the house. 

My son was out playing in it, but came in soaked to the gills. 

(Is that a real saying? "Soaked to the gills"?) 

Anyway, everyone needed the day of good rest. I didn't wear make-up or shower till about 5 p.m. The kids lounged around in p.j.'s and drank warm drinks, then closed out the night with a rousing game of Disney's Scene It. 

I won. :) (And trust me, that never happens!) 

Highly recommend this game for families. It's really SO fun! 

Anyway, I do have a bit of  big(ish) news to share...I made a decision to do something I always talk myself out of doing... I started an etsy shop. 

There are a million reasons NOT to do this (and believe me, I've thought of them all...) but I guess I sort of realized that just because I'm a writer (and that IS my primary focus) doesn't mean I shut off the other things I love. I think sometimes we get so focused on the advice we receive we forget that none of us fits perfectly into a box. 

For instance, it would seem that I should focus solely on building my brand as a writer...and that seems to be the most logical thing to do...but I'm a novelist who likes to create...so who says I can only do one or the other? (This is me talking myself into it again...) 

My shop isn't open yet and I haven't thought of a name, but I've ordered supplies and things are moving. 

And yes, once again, I'm filled with doubt and insecurity. 

Someone tell me I'll outgrow this, please?

I'm going to be selling original mixed media canvases and prints and possibly some of my dad's handmade wooden goods (candle holders, jewelry boxes, cutting boards)...I'm still working to get him to sign the release forms to let me boss him around. 

So far, he's not having it. 

I don't know how any of it will go...I just know that it's something I want to do, so why not, right? 

Do you have something you've been wanting to try but haven't (because of time/money/inexperience or anything else?) What is it and what keeps you from moving forward? I'd love to hear...maybe we can hop into this journey together...?

Stay warm out there, friends!

 

 

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Goodbye, February {In Pictures}

Today, we're snowed in. It's the day I've been praying for...a day off for everyone. I've neither showered nor put on make-up. And my kids want pancakes for lunch. 

It seems like a gift, almost, after the past few weeks. February was a full one. The kind of month where you just stare at your husband, shake your head and go, "Seriously? What next?" 

Don't you love those months? 

I thought I'd share a few highlights (and lowlights)...because I've hit a blog wall...and I'm interested in disengaging my mind. So here it is. 

We shuffled Cupid-style with 87 of the coolest kids we know. 

We've spent every weekend with these kids...and we're almost ready for our opening night, which is only a week(ish) away. If you're anywhere near Rockford next week, you should come. I promise, these kids will blow you away. 

We did a table read and then revised the script and score for our third musical, Grimm, which auditions this weekend in McHenry County. 

I discovered my body handles stress by way of the canker sore. Let's just say this was an ongoing plague during the month of February. Apparently, stress is trying to be my friend. 

I'm not having it. 

Despite my fat lip(s), I still got this guy to go on a date with me. I whined a little and finally he relented. 

We saw Hairspray and loved it. 

I did a lot of painting, often with grumpy company. 

Sam wanted to duplicate one of Sophia's paintings. Both turned out really fun. He's been quite the busy little artist lately. Here's his version of Santa (one of my favorite pictures he's ever drawn. Ever.) 

But, he took a turn about a week ago...I should've known we'd be hit with the flu when this started happening:

But I was hoping it would move on past us. We didn't have time for all three kids to pass around fevers, missing school and rehearsals. 

But when you see this:

(That was Sam's)...what else do you do? 

To make matters worse, we also had several at-home injuries, all of which fell on this guy:

He ran into lightswitches, fell up (and down) stairs, had scratches, fat lips and a bevy of other ailments. 

Good times. 

Thankfully, by Valentine's Day, he'd recovered. 

I took the girl shopping for a friend's birthday gift and she started her own birthday list. I can't believe she turns twelve this month. 

I'm old.

Here she is showing off "Aunt Carrie" earrings:

Because apparently she thinks my sister only wears earrings as big as her head. 

She also added these to her list:

Grammy? 

At the suggestion of a friend, I read this book:

At the suggestion of everything good and pure in the world, I skipped reading this book:

(And seriously, just the cover of this book makes my throat itch and my eyes water...it's all...too...disturbing.) 

I directed this goofball:

(She's playing Persephone in the show...) 

And visited Urban Farmgirl again...

(FULL of cute stuff, Rockfordians...she's open again this week!) 

We played some Legos:

And I sold some artwork:

...which has me pondering an etsy shop...though that feels kind of big and scary to me right now. 

I drank lots of this:

And spent many, many hours with this guy: (one of my favorite things to do) 

And finally, I planned another art class here in town which has officially sold out! 

February was full...frustrating...overwhelming...amazing...challenging...exciting...and so much more. A mix of emotions. A heavy reminder that I can't move forward with anything on my own. 

Plenty of good mixed in with the bad. 

I have some really exciting news to share (very soon)...so who knows? Maybe March will be a different feeling altogether.

One can hope.

How was the second month of your year? 

Rockford, IL Girl's Art Night Out {A Mixed Media Art Class for Women}

I have this vision of bringing people together to create. There are lots of people who do this, and I want to be one of them right here in my own little spot in the world. 

Before we moved to Colorado, I had just started organizing "Art Night" with a good friend of mine, but now I want to take it a step further. I want to share the creative things I love because they really are like therapy to me...and because I believe everyone is creative. 

We're born that way. Made in God's image. And do you know anyone more creative than God? 

Anyway... ever since I announced my "Adventure Awaits" class for girls, I've been really anxious to get this out there because I'm SO excited about it. 

You'll learn mixed media techniques to create your own version of my 10x10 "Dream in Color" canvas. Everything you'll need will be provided. Plus, we're going to have a TON of fun! 

Here's a closer look at the artwork:

I've been making patchwork birdies for a long time now, and they are still one of my very favorite things to do. Even on scrapbook pages, the mix of patterns somehow makes me so happy, and that's what art should do, right?

We'll also play with charcoal pencils (I have a special place in my heart for these...), paint, ink and much, much more!! 

Can you think of a better way to spend a night out? 

So, if you're local and you're interested, just email me at courtneyrwalsh {at} gmail {dot} com (don't forget the "R" in the address) and I'll send out additional details and payment instructions. (We take check or Paypal at this time.)

Space is very limited and your spot is reserved once payment is received. 

I would LOVE to see you there! 

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For Those Who Are Discouraged.

I'm having one of those days...I can feel the anxiety kind of bubbling underneath the surface. You know how you can sometimes sense the perfect storm before it hits...I sense it.

I'm stressed out. 

I try to get to the root of the stress and realize it's not the fact that Adam slipped a disk and is completely immobile. Or that we're snowed in and I don't know how to work the snowblower and we missed garbage day and I tend to get stuck when there's this much snow on the roads. Or that I keep staring at my to-do list and not crossing anything off... a sure recipe for disaster. 

It's all of these things coupled with the pressure I put on myself, I think. 

Do you know that pressure? You must. It's the thing that tells us we should be farther ahead of where we are now. The thing that makes us think we're failing even at things we're just beginning. The thing that tells us we can't do something when we know we're called to it. 

That thing is a beast. 

So today, I'm gently reminding myself, as I take care of my husband, brave driving in crazy amounts of snow and work my way down the to-do list... that I'll get there. 

In time, I'll get there. 

And so will you. 

In time, you'll get there. 

You Can Shine

Friday night after rehearsal, I found myself alone in the car for about ten minutes. It's amazing what ten minutes of silence can do for you. I started to pray because once again I had that lumpy throated experience thinking about the kids in our show...how amazing they are...and I wondered if they knew it.

I wanted to believe they did, but  a word dropped into my heart. A word for them, but also, I think, for you. 

Shine. 

I started thinking about the youngest kids in our cast (age 8)...how easy it is to shine when you're that little. You don't know how NOT to shine, really. You're taught to "let your little light shine"...so you do. 

And then you get older. And it gets more difficult. Hiding your light seems like less trouble. Not everyone is a fan of a well-lit person, you know.

People tell you you're not good enough or talented enough or thin enough or pretty enough. You're the wrong height or weight or race. 

And you start to believe them...who are you to think you could shine? What do you really have to offer? You're ridiculous for even thinking it. 

And your light flickers like the candle at the end of its wick. 

Looking out over a sea of youth, there's nothing I want to convey more than the fact that the reason other people try to put your light out so theirs will appear brighter. There's nothing I want to teach more than the fact that you were born to shine.

You've been given gifts that the world needs...if you hide them, the world misses out. 

And I'm not talking about facial expressions on stage, I'm talking about something deeper. Way, deep down...that's where the power source is.

You will face adversity. We all do... the question is...what will you do with it? 

 

You can shine. 

What are you waiting for?

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{On Big Dreams} If You're On the Fence

Lately, in the van, Sam's been watching Chicken Run. Remember that movie? We're on a continuous loop with it (as is the way it goes with movies in the car...last month it was Mr. Popper. This month, Chicken Run.) 

Not only does it make me think, "Wow, that Mel Gibson does a flawless American accent," but it also seems to be echoing the same line over and over. Mel's character is trying to teach the chickens how to fly, and he says, "it's going to take three things. Hard work. Perseverance. And hard work." 

An old-man chicken squawks, "You said 'hard work' twice." 

Mel: "That's because it's going to take twice as much work as perseverance." 

Every time I hear it, I think, "huh. That's so true." So much of what we want to do comes down to the same thing: hard work. 

Before you roll your eyes and click out of my blog, let me tell you a story. Years ago...many, many years now, I decided I'd try my hand at writing. I'd been working for a newspaper and had started writing scripts but wow, the idea of writing a novel just exhausted me. 

It wasn't the writing I didn't want to do...it was the re-writing. The editing. The going back and re-reading my words and making them better. The handing it over to someone else so they could tell me what was wrong with it. 

I decided instead I'd write a children's book. Because those are short and easy. Because I could wrap my brain around it. 

I wrote the first draft of "Silly Lilly" and decided I had a future as a children's book author. I had an acquaintence who was an actual, real-live children's book author...and I asked her to critique it for me. 

And she did. 

Turns out, Silly Lilly wasn't very good. My main character had a few quirks, but I'm not silly by nature and didn't have kids yet, so she was kind of just like every other little kid...you can't name a kid "Silly Lilly" and then have her be just like every other little kid. It also turned out that while I was enamored with my first line, it also wasn't very good. 

Oh, she had many positive things to say, but all I heard was "this pretty much sucks." 

Kind of like amazon reviews. You can have lots of positive reviews but it's the one bad one that you agonize over. {I stopped reading my reviews a long time ago.} 

Anyway. Here's what I know. I didn't want to do the work to revise that book. I thought about it a lot over the years...but I just didn't get around to it. I couldn't swallow the fact that it wasn't perfect the first time, and I let my pride get in the way. 

Well, guess what? Last week, I was in Barnes and Noble and look what I found in the children's section:

I know there are several books with the same title...but when I saw this, staring me in the face, I thought, "It really is true. If you don't do it, someone else will..." 

And that's what I know for sure. If you're afraid of the work, or if you simply put your dream on the shelf for too long, someone else will move forward with it. While I firmly believe that there's room for everyone in this creative world because the world needs our individual voices, I also believe that we talk ourselves out of really good ideas because we're afraid. 

Of failure. 

Of looking stupid. 

Of being wrong. 

Of doing the work. 

There is no substitute for hard work. There just isn't. 

Do the work. Dare to be great. Dare to fail gloriously. And honor that big dream in your heart. 

It's worth it. 

Big Picture Classes GIVEAWAY! {Let's Go Grammar Free}

It's probably not a secret to you that I love words. I love clever turns of phrase. I love painting pictures with words. 

However, I don't love grammar, so when I found out Angie Lucas is offering a Grammar Free Journaling class over at Big Picture, I thought, "Well, that's brilliant." Because how many of us get tripped up on the journaling when we're working on a layout?

{The answer: Lots. Lots of us.} So...today, I get to give away a spot in this class, which is underway (but not so underway that you'll be lost...)

In this class, you'll learn a dozen creative and useful strategies for telling awesome stories in completely new ways—no paragraphs required! Be free. Be Grammar Free.

Today is the last day to sign up so run on over there for pure grammar liberation today!

And if you're still on the fence, here's a little more info courtesy of Angie herself.  

Class Description

Who's teaching this class? Hi, I'm Angie Lucas, word nerd extraordinaire, and I'll be your Grammar-Free Journaling instructor.

Is "grammar-free journaling" a thing, or did Angie Lucas make it up? Okay, okay, I made it up. The idea is to tell truly compelling stories in creative new formats using the fewest words possible—and to stress less about paragraph flow, sentence structure, transitions, and the rules of writing.

What does Angie Lucas have against grammar? Absolutely nothing! I'm willing to bet that I love grammar even more than you do. But just in case you don't like it, I'll show you 12 useful strategies for skipping the grammar altogether.

Who is this "Angie Lucas" anyway? I'm the new Editorial Director at Big Picture Classes, a professional writer and editor since 1998, the founder of Ella Publishing Co., the former managing editor at Simple Scrapbooksmagazine, and an average pianist (which is not at all relevant to this workshop).

So HOW do you win? 

1. Leave a comment and tell us what you hate most about grammar. (We might as well celebrate in our loathing, right?)  That's it. You're entered! 

BUT. There are additional chances to win! 

2. Blog, Tweet, Facebook or Pin this giveaway and then come back to this post and leave an additional comment for each one you do. That's FOUR additional chances to WIN! 

3. Winner will be announced tomorrow so hop to it! 

And don't forget, if you're local or semi-local to Rockford, Illinois, I do have a few openings left in my Beautiful Girl Art Workshop coming up on Thursday, March 28th. The first class is completely sold out, so snag your spot today! 

Additional details about this mixed media art class are HERE. 

Good luck everyone!

A Big Announcement {Rockford, IL Mixed Media Art Classes} SOLD OUT! {Second Class Added}

When I was wallowing in how much I missed being creative, my husband threw something out on the table that I had never considered. When we moved into this house, we were so excited because the basement is finished...studio for him, studio for me...and a big family room joining the two together. 

But the more we're here, the less we seem to need another family room. So when Adam said "Why don't you have art classes in our house?" I actually considered it. 

And the more I considered it, the more I liked it. And the more I liked it, the more I wanted to do it. I've taught online at Big Picture, but not as much in real life...but I'd love to do it, so why not?

Ever since I made the decision to plow forward with this, every fear you can imagine has found its way inside my head. You know the typical "What if I do this and fail miserably?" or "What if no one comes?" or "What if they come and then I fail miserably?" 

But I can't shake the idea...because the whole time we were in Colorado, the thing I missed the most was face-to-face interaction (especially with kids). I missed Art Night (which I started as a way to connect local creatives and it was picking up steam when we moved)...and I missed sharing that creativity with my friends. 

(he wanted to help me take pictures. This is his fake smile.)

So, I guess this is sort of "part one" of my big step towards living a more creative life...art classes right here in my humble abode...

But my goal isn't simply to teach mixed media. That's more like a catalyst for a bigger message, a message I began working on in 2005 when I created The Beautiful Girl Workshop. This self esteem workshop for girls was meant to help girls understand they are loved, that God has a plan for them, that they are his creation and not a mistake.

Now, years after I hosted that first retreat, I find myself still passionate about that same topic. And art is one of the best forms of self expression I can think of, so each class we do will focus on different elements of those truths. 

The Beautiful Girl Art Workshop. 

I've scheduled the first one for Tuesday, March 26th (this is my kids' spring break) and I have fairly limited space. Depending on interest, I may split the girls into age groups down the road but this first time, I'm going to have everyone together. (And adults are welcome too.) 

Cost includes:

* All supplies needed to create an 11x14 "Adventure Awaits" canvas {in your own personal style.}

* 2 hours of inspiration & instruction 

* Homemade, world famous milk chocolate chip cookie snack. (They're famous in my world, that counts, right??) 

Girls {and adults} of all ages are invited to attend, simply email me to reserve your spot! **ETA: The Tuesday class has now reached capacity. I've added a second class for Thursday, March 28th! {Thank you, everyone!!!}

You can register via email {courtneyrwalsh at gmail dot com} (don't forget the "R") and I'll send out the address and any additional information needed. 

*You must register by Sunday, March 24th.

I hope to see you there! :) 

I Am Here to Live Out Loud

To live a bold life. 

To stand up for truth. 

To make a difference, even to one.

I am here to believe the impossible. 

To wait on the miracle. 

To push for better.

Simpler.

More meaningful.

To make mistakes. 

Dare to fail gloriously.

To pick myself back up and keep moving forward. 

To be brave.

I am here to shine. 

To write words that matter. 

To spread kindness. 

To encourage.

To give.

I am here to live out loud. 

Won't you join me?

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Quiet for the Busy Mind...

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Confessions of a Wanna-Be SuperMom

I'm supposed to be that mom. 

You know the one. The one that has it together. The one who has homemade chocolate chip cookies waiting when her kids get home from school. Somehow said cookies are still ooey, gooey and just a tiny bit warm on the inside. 

 

I was all set to let Valentine's kind of slip on by, what after killing myself to help Ethan with his wax museum project. 

He was Albert Einstein:

As we were running out the door to make it to the school on time, I remembered I still had a mustache template from Sam's "mustache day" at preschool the week before. Otherwise, good 'ol Al would've been facial hair-less. 

And yes, I did cut it out of paper, slap some tape on the back of it and stick it to his face. 

Imagine trying to give a verbal presentation with piece of curly-q'd paper stuck to your upper lip. 

Clearly I failed in the mustache department, but we actually did work on his poster together. And by "together" I mean, I told him what to cut, where to stick stuff and which pictures would look best. 

Probably should've let him have a bit of input. You know what they say about hindsight...

But I'm a total control freak. And while I really don't consider myself "competitive" there's something that happens when I know something is going on display. I don't want my kid to be the one whose poster looks like a 3rd grader made it. 

Because that would reflect badly on me. 

And yes, my friends, that is nothing but pride. 

Ugly, ugly pride. 

There's this thing in the back of my mind that says "it's okay to send him with a plain shoebox for Valentine's Day. You don't really have time for much else." (We had to do our Valentine's and go to dance class and get homework done and everyone bathed all in the space of about four hours last night. It was fairly brutal since I was single-parenting with Adam working late...) 

I'd resigned myself to being okay with whatever Ethan came up with. 

And then I got on instagram and saw the killer creations my friends were sending with their kids. We're scrapbookers, mind you, we're prone to killer creations. 

And I had nothing. No ideas. No supplies. No time. 

Ethan told me about some of the boxes that had come in and suddenly I realized if I sent him with his barely decorated, handwritten and misspelled "Valintine" box, my kid would be the lame one. 

Not on my watch. 

So, I did what I could muster, which by this time of night wasn't much. 

A lame monster box made out of old scrapbooking paper. 

And that feeling of inferiority washed over me once again. I'm failing as a mom. It actually put me in a bad mood, so even when I woke up, confronted again with jagged teeth and hand drawn googly eyes, I was annoyed with myself.

How could I fail my kid like this? 

But as I packed his lunch, I decided to tuck a little love note inside, something I used to do daily, but have gotten away from in my haste. I wanted it to be a surprise, but he came in as I was writing Sophia's. 

"What that?" he asked. 

"Oh, just a note." 

"Who's it for?" 

"Sophia." 

"Oh." I could hear the disappointment in his voice. Then, he said, "Did you write me one too?" 

I glanced up at him, and I saw hopefulness in his eyes. I smiled--my first one of the morning--"Yes, Ethan. I wrote you one too." 

He let out a fist-thumping "YES!" grabbed his backpack and said, "I'm going to read it in the car." 

He stuffed the lunchbox into his backpack and ran to get his coat, leaving me standing there, ashamed that I'd let my own pride dictate my mood for the morning. I was honestly worried about what the other moms and teachers would think, me sending Ethan to school with a lamely decorated Valentine box and pre-made Valentine's. Never mind that they had a spy decoder with them. I didn't make them myself. 

They weren't good enough. 

But none of that was about my kid. It was about me and what people would think of me. And that's ugly. 

And not how I want to live. I want to hone in on my children's needs, their emotions, their excitement...and not let my own concerns about being the mom I've created in my own head come into play. 

Slowly, surely, I'll get there...little by little, surrendering bits and pieces and becoming okay with my own imperfection...

How about you? Do you succumb to the pressures of SuperMom? 

 

A Big Change. A New Adventure.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you probably know I am the PR Manager for Webster's Pages. It's an incredible scrapbooking company with amazing people and a whole lot of goodness going on.

I love working there. 

And I love this chick:

(That's my boss/friend Brandin, the creative force behind WP)...

So when I started to feel pulled in too many directions, I crossed other things off my to-do list. Things like writing time or art with the kids... but not work. I couldn't cross work off. I love my job!

And yet...there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, something that told me I was getting ready for a change. I've come to recognize this feeling being the vagabond that I am, but when it first niggled its way in, I ignored it. 

There was no possible way I could not have a day job. We need for me to work. Who am I to think I could be a full-time writer/creative person? 

I'd imagined us broke, destitute and begging for food outside Wal-Mart.

And it would all be my fault.

But there were all these ideas...things I wanted to try. Things I'd put on the back burner for "someday." I had lists of big dreams that I was doing nothing to accomplish. I didn't have the time or energy. And I watched other people doing similar things and thought "I should do that...someday..." or "I had that idea once..."

What do you do with that? It's so easy to tell people to go after their dreams. It's so easy to say "just do it." Or "if you don't like something, change it..." or "When are you going to start believing in yourself?" 

Suddenly those words I'd spoken to other people seemed empty. I couldn't muster the courage. When it was me on the line, I had to choose if I was worth taking the risk for. 

And I decided I wasn't. I couldn't do that. It wasn't smart. I am not a risk-taker. 

Yet, when Adam was in a similar situation toward the end of our time in Colorado, I was gung-ho that he go after the thing that was in his heart. I could see his creativity lying dormant, and I wanted him to revisit it...because I knew how happy he was writing music, teaching, being creative...and he was doing none of that. He was sitting behind a desk checking for commas, something a copyeditor should be looking for...

Not being creative was killing his spirit...

And when it was him we were banking on, I was all for it. "We'll be fine. I just want you to be happy." I said the words every day for awhile. Because I believed in him. Because his happiness and creativity were worth it. 

But mine? 

I wasn't unhappy. I just wasn't finding time to do the things on my list. The things in my gut. The ideas that kept getting shoved aside. Writing. Creating. Teaching. Directing. 

And those things are important to me. Even if they don't sustain us financially. Even if they never "take off"...those are the things in my heart...and somewhere along the way, deep down in a place I can't quite locate, I found this tiny sliver of courage. 

It came in the form of a HUGE revelation: 

God was asking me to move. To get out of the way. To trust something I couldn't see. To believe that I actually could hear his voice (in spite of my best efforts to convince myself otherwise.) 

So I made the decision and I handed in my resignation...and it made me sadder than I ever expected it to because I really do love my job.

And at the same time, I was excited because my ideas were simmering again. 

I am filled with passion for them. Anxious to work on them. Excited to start. 

And yet, there is more fear than I have ever felt before. Panic. Anxiety. The kind that paralyzes you and makes your breath catch in your throat. What if I made a bad decision and my family suffers for it? 

So I pull myself back to His side, lay my dreams down at His feet and ask Him to meet me in this broken place full of confusion and worry and doubt. 

And I'm learning that bravery doesn't mean you aren't scared. It just means you push through it. You do it anyway. You jump and trust that the net will be there. 

Because He's proven He will never let you fall...

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Happy Art

It's well established around here that I am cranky when I don't have time to be creative. Sometimes that means writing, sometimes it means re-doing a room, sometimes it means painting. 

So recently, when Adam asked me when I'm the happiest, I don't know why it surprised me to tell him "when I'm writing or directing or painting with the kids." 

I don't know why it also surprised me when he replied, "Then you should do more of those things." (Apparently he was interested in me being less cranky.)

I'm nothing if not an obedient wife (ahem.) So, this weekend, I spent some time painting with my kids. 

I used to spend a lot of time comparing myself to other people. It's so easy to do that. Especially when we're talking about creativity. It's so subjective...you just can't please everyone. But I had this strange epiphany that I really don't have to please everyone. 

And everyone else doesn't have to please me. Sometimes we forget that we have an opinion too... and if I like it, then it's good enough for me, right? 

I'd hate to think that any of us wouldn't try something new and creative simply because we were afraid we couldn't measure up to what someone else was doing. (I speak from experience on that one.)

You have to start somewhere...and who knows, maybe you'll discover exactly what makes you happiest?

For me, it's kid art. Art that inspires and encourages. Whimsy. Bright colors. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but it makes me happy. Like, really happy. 

It kind of makes me want to fly...

Tell me...when are you the happiest? 

In the Beginning...

There's something about the beginning of something.  Starting a new story. The blank canvas of a new art piece. A new home renovation project.

The beginning is so shiny, isn't it? You can hardly wait to find out what's going to happen. And that newness pushes you through so much. 

But other times, the beginning can be terrifying. Traipsing out into the unknown...discovering that it's not safe 100% of the time. Embracing the risk. Being afraid. Doing it anyway. 

I tend to be the kind of person who loves big ideas. In certain ways I also love details...but mostly I love big ideas. And when I get big ideas, I can't sleep until I begin. And yet... lately, it's the first step I can't seem to take. 

I analyze. Over analyze. I come up with a plan. Then another one that I'm sure is better. Then I get another big idea and wonder if that's a better way to go... I'm losing the forest for the trees, or whatever that saying is...

The truth is, starting something new is terrifying. At least when it requires you to take a step of faith...And in all that planning and wondering and worrying...you have to figure out which voices are the right ones to listen to. 

So, how do you jump into the deep end without a life vest? Especially when you aren't a risk-taker by nature? What do you do when the fear squeezes your throat and you can't breathe? 

Can you push through? Can you stop comparing your beginning to someone else's middle? 

It's a process. I'm working on it...and trying to be gentle with myself while I do. 

What is it you're jumping into right now? What's keeping you from taking that first step? 

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New Artwork. {Paint + Wood + Words}

I'm working on some fun new things around here, and February is looking like a ginormous pile of deadlines and rehearsals and creative dreaming. 

It's been a bit of a whirlwind but I'm trying to slow down a little. Be present. Stay focused. Pray. 

Always feel like it's easier to slow down when I'm painting. Because I don't really want to rush through it...and with the artwork I've been doing lately, I can't. This is the latest. Scrap wood from my dad's shop. Phrasing idea from Sophia (I was going to put "Go be awesome today" but she liked "Don't forget to be awesome today" so I went with it.) 

I distressed the letters this time. 

...and instantly became addicted to the distressed letters. This is actually three pieces of wood my dad glued together for me. I painted it the same color as our living room walls, then added the words. I worked on it at the kitchen table, in my office, around the kids, by myself. It wasn't a quick one. 

Then I took it back to my dad's shop for framing. 

I can't explain how much I love it. I realized I want my personality in our house and this is something I would say to my kids...so I'm putting it either in our upstairs hallway or in our kitchen.

Why not? I want everyone to remember to be awesome today. 

I'm working on a few custom pieces for people who've emailed...if you're interested let me know. I'd love to create something special just for you. 

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Blessing Your Home {DIY Living Room Renovation in Progress}

Every time we've moved, there has been one thing that's kept me sane...adding touches of "me" to the space we live in. 

Making our house homey hasn't always been on the top of my priority list, but it's quickly moving there now. It's important, I think, to fill a home with things that mean something to your family. For me, that's meant dabbling in ways to bless our house and scratch that creative itch at the same time. 

You might remember our ugly living room. 

Gosh, I hated this room. The dark, dark walls and dark, dark carpet just made me cranky. So, for Christmas, I decided to get serious about re-doing this room. 

I was going to wait until it was "all finished" to blog about it, but considering we're on a spending freeze thanks to Dave Ramsey, I just don't want to wait that long. So, I'll share what we've done so far...

First, we painted the walls: 

Instantly, I liked the room better...but the hunter green carpet still needed to go. Thankfully, I have a birthday in December so guess what I asked for? 

Let me just say that this is NOT the floor I expected to get. I thought we'd go with a dark wood floor like we did in our Colorado house. I loved the way that looked, but for some reason, we fell in love with a hickory floor and it was a lot lighter than I had intended. 

As is customary in our home renovations, we put our kids to work: 

They actually had  blast cutting up the carpet and hauling it out. 

No, really. They did. 

Next, we put down the underlayment and went to work on the floor.

I won't tell you where we bought the floor (Lumber Liquidators) or that we ended up having to return a box and a half of defective product or that they charged us a restocking fee to return that box of defective product. Or that I don't think anyone should ever go to Lumber Liquidators that place if they can help it. 

On my birthday, we had the new floor installed...and I instantly fell in love. 

Eventually, we'll move this furniture out of here (though I don't know where we'll go with it because I know from the hole in the wall it does NOT fit in our lower level...) but for now, this is what we have. 

The white chairs were my grandma's. They have little pink flowers on them, but I kind of love them anyway. I covered them both with favorite blankets and they do me just fine. 

Of course, I'd love new tile and lighting around the fireplace and the mantle is always changing, but I'm loving pulling in the natural elements like my dad's handmade candle stick and my hand-painted sign. That stained wood with white and wicker and twine is just working for me. 

This was a sign I painted for my Home Blessings Class at Big Picture. This is a piece of maple my dad used to teach me to plane, sand and route...and I LOVE the way it turned out. 

I still need a rug, window treatments and artwork on the walls, but for now, I've settled in to the vast improvement and am so thankful we no longer call this room "The Green Room." 

Little by little, I'll make it a home...

Work in Progress {it's what I am}

Last week, I was cranky. Not 100% of the time, but more often then not. I realized it was because I hadn't done anything particularly creative for weeks. Lots of weeks. There just hasn't been time. 

My latest obsession has been hand lettering, but it can be tedious so I put it on the shelf for awhile. Once I get it in my head I want to figure something out, I get a little obsessive about it. It's a blessing and a curse.

But sometimes I just want to be messy and have no plan. 

I love that there are no mistakes in art. Not really. Not in my world. 

Today, my Jesus Calling devotional told me not to worry myself with analyzing and planning. Kind of wish I'd had that last week...but I'll take it. I'm trying to listen. To be better. To rest in him. 

Trying to focus on being a light in my daily life. Encouraging people. Building my faith. Practicing kindess. Shining. 

Not judging myself too harshly. Being good to myself. Getting rest. Being okay with not having it all figured out. Stepping out in faith when I know I can't do something on my own. 

Trying to learn to loosen my death-grip on my own life...to relinquish control, to lay it all down and actually not pick it up again. 

It's such a process. I'm such a work in progress. 

But I'm willing to do the work. I really believe it's worth it...

 

Consider Yourself Dared.

What is the dream in your heart? 

The one you keep pushing aside. You know it. It scoots in closer in the quiet moments which are too few and far between these days. 

It tugs at your skirt like a knowing toddler and when you look down at it, you have the choice to pick it up and embrace it or to send it on its way. 

Too many times you've asked it to wait. 

Too many times you've talked yourself out of it. 

You've told yourself it doesn't matter. You can do it later. It's not logical or practical or smart. 

And another day passes,then a week...a month...and the dream begins to fade into the background of the busyness. 

Until something ignites a spark. An idea. A silent thought. A moment. And you're struck again with that flame of passion...and you go back to thinking about it. Entertaining it. Believing it...just for a moment. 

And you realize that maybe the time to embrace it has finally come. Maybe you're ready. Maybe you do have what it takes to stop being afraid. Maybe if you start believing in the dream, believing it's there for a reason...maybe then you can actually take a step of faith. 

Put one toe over the line. 

Then a foot. 

Then another. 

Maybe the big dream really IS in your reach...and all that's left is for you to just hold on tight... 

The dream is out there out there...

Do you dare?

Moving Mountains

How many times must I walk around this mountain? 

The words smack at me like a tantruming toddler. Here we are again.

 Typically my issues have to do with trust. Partly trust in God. Partly trust in myself. 

The slope is slippery. 

Tonight I found myself in the red chair again, across from my husband. Our talking chairs, I've come to call them.

So, we talked. 

Only this time I walked away with something different, as though the same thing he'd said a thousand times before finally sunk in.

He believes in me. Why don't I? 

I know what I'm supposed to tell you...that writing books and attempting to live a creative life is all go with the flow...that once you're published, you can write and write to your heart's content, but I'm not sure in this day and age anyone can really do that.

The fact of the matter is...it's hard work. There's a lot of putting yourself out there. A lot of waiting. And in the waiting, your creativity doesn't sleep--at least not always. So you find your head spinning and your direction aimless. 

And your creativity is at war with your responsibility. 

How do you really do it all? 

In an effort to keep myself out of the hospital, I've vowed to make some changes...but they lead me right back here. The same mountain. The trust mountain. And I remind myself over and over of all the ways He's come through for our family...even when we were taking blind leaps of faith that seemed utterly ridiculous. 

So tonight I left the house for about a half an hour to spend what's left of my grocery budget (and not a penny more) at Target. Do you know how hard that was? And I took the long way home because something in my spirit didn't feel settled. 

So, I prayed. 

And I asked God to move. And the words came back at me clear as day...

Don't ask me to move on your behalf if you aren't willing to move on mine. 

See. He's been talking to me. He's been shifting things in my heart. He's been making himself very clear, putting up with my "just to be sure" prayers. He's done all that for me. 

And what have I done but complain? 

You can't un-ask the question just because the answers scare you. You have to listen.

You have to be willing to move. 

Are you?

Is Your Intelligence Having Fun?

I get cranky when I don't carve out time to be creative. 

I need to create stories or paint or dream up new ideas or I get, well, not fun to be around. 

I'm working on a new project I can't WAIT to tell you about...but in the meantime, I'd love to know: 

Is your intelligence having fun? 

Are you pursuing your creative dreams? What helps you? What hinders you? 

Let's chat!

Dare to Fail {Gloriously}

Growing up in a small town, there weren't a ton of opportunities to express myself. As a non-athlete (I know you're surprised to learn this about me), there was a limited supply of extra curricular activities. 

In Jr. High, I tried basketball and volleyball...then ended up starting a school newspaper. In high school, I was Class President, Editor of the newspaper...nerdy stuff like that. 

But for all my attempt to fill the time, there was one place where I seemed to come alive...on the stage. Still, there weren't a ton of plays being produced in SmallTown, Illinois...so when I announced I wanted to major in theatre, I was met with that concerned furrowed brow that conveys a loud and clear message...without a single word. 

This is not a smart idea.

I went on several college visits, and I remember the one that made my college choice clear. It was to Bradley University in Peoria and they let me sit in on an acting class. Up until that point, I'd done lots of shows...but I'd never actually sat in an acting class. Not like this. 

The only way I can describe it is that suddenly I came alive. When the professor spoke and moved and challenged the students, my spirit kind of leapt. Like, bubbled up and almost overflowed. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Much to parents' dismay, I'm sure, I was hooked. On this school. On that program. On the stage. 

Over the course of those four years, there was one phrase that that same professor drilled into our heads...Dare to fail gloriously. 

Truth be told, I'd forgotten all about it until this week...I was going about my business and I started thinking about a couple of crazy ideas I've been kicking around in the back of my head. The "What ifs" came at me hard and my anxiety skyrocketed. (I'm in the market for armpit guards if anyone knows where I can find them.) 

Fear is a nasty thing, isn't it? It's paralyzing. And every time I started to get really excited about this crazy-put-myself-out-there-could-be-a-total-flop idea...I felt that fear come over me. And I know the Bible. I know all the places God tells us not fear. I know it my head...but I was having trouble getting it into my heart. 

And then I remembered this phrase. Dare to fail gloriously. 

A celebration of failure? Couldn't happen... and yet, in the context of theatrical rehearsal, it absolutely CAN. I mean, now that I'm directing shows...I want my kids to fail gloriously. I want them to do outlandish, crazy, might-never-work-in-a-million-years kind of things... because in those moments of throwing yourself out there...greatness comes. 

You stumble upon an idea that opens up a whole new world for your character. You uncover backstory you didn't know existed. You find mannerisms or strength or motivation that wasn't there before...because you're open to it. And you're exploring. And you're searching. 

And you're willing to fail. 

Wow. That's powerful. 

Failure doesn't have to be a shameful thing. It can be glorious if you let it. If you learn from it. If you embrace it. 

So what if you try to fly and you plummet to the ground at first? Eventually, you'll find your wings. 

Eventually you may even soar. 

What's stopping you? 

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{Free!} Valentine Printable

{Free!} Valentine Printable

I'm not trying to rush January, but part of my goals for the upcoming year are to be more present... more balanced...more focused on what's going on around me, rather that letting it swish on by... and that means, celebrating when the season calls for it. 

Truth be told, I've never been much of a Valentine's Day celebrate-r, which is odd considering my affinity for romance...but this year, I want to take some time to celebrate LOVE. 

So, I've created this nifty little printable in hopes that you might do the same. 

When Adam & I were going through the craziness of moving, we started to realize that we really could get through whatever life through at us...as long as we stuck together. I believe in the power of two, so I knew that wherever life took us, whatever hurts we encountered, I could always rely on "me + you" or "you + me."  

In fact, the dedication in my third novel, A Sweethaven Christmas simply reads: 

For Adam

Me and You.

Photo by LyndseyLew Photography

So. That's worth celebrating. The idea that you can do anything if you have the right support system. If you've got someone cheering you on, you can take big risks or dare to be brave. 

And while I've never exactly been "in love" with being "in love" (I'm horribly unromantic by nature.) I still think love is something to celebrate. Don't you?

I'd LOVE to see or hear how you're celebrating Valentine's Day this year... Take a minute to let me know...I'm new at all this! 

And I hope you'll download this free printable for yourself! A simple frame and you've got cheap, LOVEly art...

Download Cwalsh_you+me_valentine_printable

Happy Early Valentine's Day!

Dear Eleven-Almost Twelve-Year Old Daughter,

I wish I could tell you I clearly remember what it was like to be your age, but the truth is, my memory has lapses in it, spaces that have disappeared and details that have vanished. 

If I did remember, I would like to write you a letter as my eleven-almost twelve-year-old self, because I bet we had a lot in common. I bet we would've been great friends. 

While I can't recall the typical day-to-day of sixth grade, I can recall the overarching feeling of being stuck between childhood and adulthood. I can distinctly remember how it felt to feel like no one heard my voice...to be so sure I had important things to say. 

Why won't anyone listen to me? I'm old enough to understand what everyone is talking about. I have opinions too. 

But now that I'm older, I see that was a time of great development for me. A time of learning, of figuring out who I was going to be. In some ways, it was one of the most important years of my life. 

So, I don't take any of your feelings for granted. Because everything in your world really is heightened. You feel things on a different level than someone who has lived 37 years. You are welcome to feel those feelings. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

But, I think there's something you should know. 

I am not your friend. I am your mother. There's a big difference. In my mind, God's given me a duty. To protect you. To raise you. To love you. And if I simply brush off bad behavior or sass-talk, blaming it on hormones, I don't feel like I'm doing my job. 

This is a really trying time for every girl. You haven't quite become responsible, so I have to nag a little. You don't want to be told what to do, so we sometimes butt heads. You haven't fully grasped what it is you're supposed to learn...and many days, neither have I. 

The truth is that while I'm not your friend, you might think that I'm your enemy. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am your cheerleader. I am your confidant. I am your teacher. Your role model. Your dance partner. 

I'm the one that will hold you when you experience your first broken heart. I'm the one who creates a safe place for you right here in this house...a place where you can laugh, cry, struggle, fail, fall flat on your face and still know that you will always be loved.

Always.

To that end, I must tell you, in hindsight, I do have one regret--vivid in my pieced-together memory.  I wish I'd learned sooner to appreciate the family God gave me. The mom who wasn't my friend (yet), the dad who worked hard to provide for our family and prayed over us every day, the brother and sister who pushed every last one of my buttons but have since become two of my favorite people in the world. 

I wish I'd cherished them and treated them as though they were my safe haven...because in retrospect, they were. 

This family is your spring board. This home is your foundation. And we will do everything we can to make absolutely sure to create the perfect environment to launch you into whatever God has for you, but I implore you now...please see us for who we are.

People, with feelings, oozing with love for you. 

Let us be a part of your journey...even the ugly parts that twist your stomach into knots. Because when you cry, I will cry. And when you celebrate, I will celebrate. And when you can't speak, I will hold you. 

Because I'm your mother.

And you will forever be mine. 

And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Go Ahead. Jump. {On Being Brave}

I don't fancy myself a brave person. In fact, sometimes, I'm downright wimpy. I worry a lot. If I hear the slightest noise at night, I lay in bed awake imagining worst case scenarios and wondering how much damage I could do with a blunt object in case we had an intruder. And, oh, shoot, do I have any blunt objects near the bed? 

It's not the best way to live. 

But God reminded me of something the other day...and it kind of came out of nowhere really. I started to think back to the days leading up to our move to Colorado. Days where I sensed His presence more than I had--maybe ever before. 

It should have terrified me to do that. It made no sense on paper. I had no job. Adam was leaving a job he'd been in for 12 years. It wasn't a "smart" financial move. We had to rent from a crabby old man who used our rent money to fill the house with workers every. single. week.

We didn't know a single soul in Colorado. We were wonderfully, horribly on our own. 

But a funny thing happens when you step out of your comfort zone. When you're led by the peace, you're okay with not having all the answers. You don't know how you'll pay the bills or make new friends or get through your kids being the "new kid" at school. Twice. But you do it. 

And on the other side of it, you should be stronger and braver and more willing to take risks... but you fall into a safe pattern again and you forget everything he's brought you through. 

On the outside, it may look like my hardships have been few, and in some ways, they have... but in other ways, I've just realized, I've been through a lot. Not the kind of "lot" that would have me crying on the intro of a reality tv show to make viewers like me more... but still, a lot. 

Emotionally, physically, spiritually...our family has been tested. I, personally, have been tested. Often, I fail, but I'm thankful God gives me the chance to learn from each mistake. 

What I've discovered is that HE brought me through it...so why is it so difficult to believe he can bring me through every challenge I face? Why do I constantly fear? 

It's almost like we think we aren't worthy of his help. We think we've got to figure it all out on our own... but that's so not what God has for us. 

He's just waiting for us to ask. 

I tend to be stubborn, so learning my lessons is an ongoing process with me, and with each new challenge, the first thing that pops in my head is "But what if this is the time God decides to throw me out of the boat... what if I can't swim? If I jump...is he really going to be there to catch me?" 

Fear can be such a paralyzing thing, but over and over, God tells us NOT to fear. Why can't I get it through my thick skull? 

So, let's talk. 

What is God asking you to do...and does it scare you? If so, how are you handling that fear? 

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Why Bother With Church?

Creative Spaces vol. 2 & A Giveaway!

Why Bother With Church?

I have a love/hate relationship with Sundays. 

On the one hand, I love that my whole family is usually together, and after long, crazy weekends, we need the rest. On the other hand, I find myself constantly feeling guilty/worried/anxious about church. 

We've been attending a church here locally off and on since we moved back, but we're still one foot out the door kind of people. I know. Bad Christians. But seriously, I would like to see a movement in the church where we cut out all the judging, get rid of all the Christianese (Can I get an amen?) and get to a place where we truly are just walking this journey out together. 

No labels. No criticism. No appearances for appearances sake. 

Wouldn't that be something?

So when we woke up Sunday morning, we considered trying a new church. I mean, we should, right? Try out every single one. Make sure we're not missing out? 

There was just one problem. Nobody wanted to go. 

Sophia commented on how crabby everyone was. I foolishly expected to find something suitable to wear in my closet. Ethan was near-tears at the thought of getting out of his pajamas. And Sam just wanted cookies. 

Fun times on Sunday morning. 

But after miscalculating the start time (that's what happens when you're a church-tryer-outter. You fail to catalog start times appropriately...) we saw an opportunity. We never arrive in time to get the kids in their classes. This would be their day. 

And that's what we did. 

Each of our kids complained about this (having been the new kid over and over for the love of all that is holy I can't say I blame them. I don't like to be the new kid either.) 

But a funny thing happened. We really loved it. Or at least I did, I can never tell what's going on in Adam's head on days when there is football to be watched. But sitting in church as a twosome? We haven't done that in years. Actually, we haven't done that ever. 

Suddenly, a whole new world kind of opened up to me, and wouldn't you know it? God spoke words I needed to hear. Words just for me. 

The best part was picking up our kids. After a fountain of tears, Sam calmed down and ended up loving his class (Sophia stayed with him.) Ethan also had a blast and walked out with a goofy prize that he's been carrying around ever since. 

And I started to see the need to have it in our lives. Church, I mean. Colorado was about observation for us. It was about being in the background and rediscovering that personal relationship with God...in a new way. And I found myself closer to God than ever...but it wasn't because of church. 

No, church is about something else entirely. It's about connection. It's about the people. It's about growing in a place that allows for your failures...and helps you move past them. It's about sharing your gifts and being celebrated for who you are in Christ. 

I began to see that maybe my own critical eye had been turned toward the church at large. Maybe it's had everything I need from the very beginning. Maybe, just maybe, I could feel at home here. 

Yes, I still wish there were fewer "crowd pump-ups" (you know where the pastor says "Everyone say...insert Christian phrase here...) but really... is that something to get hung up on? 

It was a revelation for me this week. A reminder that while I hole myself away day after day with little to no face-to-face interaction, this is not how God created us. He wants us to be light in the darkness...and you just can't do that if you never leave the house. 

And getting refueled in a place that challenges and inspired you is one of the best ways to do that...

Hm. Who knew?

Handcrafted Art {or What I've Learned so far in my dad's woodshop}

The past few months, I've begun to take an interest in something I never expected...my dad's wood shop. I got this wild hair of an idea that I wanted to learn how he takes old, beat up pieces of wood and crafts them into art. 

It's been challenging, because he's a purist. And the last time I had a piece of wood in my hands, I turned it into this:

My dad isn't a fan of painted wood. I never really got it before. I mean, this is probably my favorite piece of artwork I've ever made. And it's on a wood slab. 

But then, I started spending more time with him, watching the way the machines work and learning about the grain of the wood. I now have a better appreciation for the fact that every kind of wood is different. 

For instance, this is a hand-crafted cutting board my dad made out of a variety of exotic woods. Each one looks completely unique and beautiful in its own right...even I wouldn't dream of slopping paint on these.

The way he turns wood into art astounds and inspires me. And he says he's not creative. I love the whole idea of taking a splintery piece of a tree in the back yard and turning in to something you want to put on display. 

It amazes me that he dreams these things up in his head... and there's a part of me that wants to learn how to do it for myself. 

For now, I'll enjoy the fruit of his labors...and while we work on a few projects, I'll soak it all up and try to learn as much as I can. 

I'm constantly inspired by the idea that there is art everywhere...and each of us has it inside of us, expressing it in our own unique ways. 

We've been trying to talk my dad into selling some of these pieces, but he already owns one business, I don't know that he wants another. Still, I think there's a market for beautiful, handcrafted pieces in everyone's home. 

I'm kind of ashamed I didn't see it sooner, that I didn't have the instant ability to celebrate the beauty of the natural elements, in each form... and while I don't intend to stop painting wood any time soon, I think maybe I'll pause and make sure I'm doing it a service before I do. 

In the meantime, wish me luck with the planer, the sander and the router...I'm determined to learn my way around that wood shop. 

For Those Who Are Afraid

He calls me from the road, on his way to work, and tells me he prays at the same point of his commute every day. 

I quiet the background noise and try to focus in on what he has to say...because in my spirit, I know it's something I need to hear. 

He tells me this morning he prayed for me. 

I say my own silent prayer of thanks. He must be able to tell I needed it today.

Of course he knows the inner workings of my mind. He recognizes when I'm in a bad mood and he almost always knows why. 

His words from last week whirl back toward me. "So, be afraid. But do it anyway." 

He doesn't want to hear all the reasons I'm justified in my fear. For him, it's cut and dry. He knows the value of bravery, having been so very brave in his own right the past few years. So my instant thought that he just doesn't understand is nothing more than a lie. 

He gives me an insight into myself that I hadn't considered. He's good like that--seeing things from a different angle...and sometimes it's clear he knows what I need better than I know it myself. I do the same for him, but it's easier to believe in his gifts and talents than it is to believe in my own. 

"I believe you can do anything," he tells me. 

Even the scary things? Even the big, ridiculous things? 

For all my feeling like God has been silent lately, I have to wonder if he's just choosing to speak to me in a different way...? Through a husband who loves me, perhaps? Through that gut feeling that has never steered me wrong before? Could it be he's been speaking all along, but I haven't been able to hear? 

It occurs to me that not everyone has someone in their life who believes in them--someone who won't laugh at their big, ridiculous dreams... it occurs to me that someone could be you. So, even though I hate to admit this weakness, this mountain I walk around every single day, I wanted to put it out there...to tell you and to pray you hear me when I say...

You aren't alone. 

If you're struggling to overcome the fear, struggling to believe that you can do something big and amazing, struggling to see yourself as valuable, struggling to do it in spite of the "what ifs"...you aren't alone. 

And I believe in you. 

Wholly. 

Be afraid. But do it anyway. 

A Soul at Rest

This weekend was an incredibly busy one for Adam and I. While a part of me wished I was off at CHA with the rest of my artsy friends, I knew there was something that needed to be done here. 

Auditions for the new musical we're directing. 

I'm sure this won't be the last time I talk about Hercules because it's a show we wrote and because I always learn so much from the kids I direct... and this weekend was no exception. 

Friday night, we filtered into a very warm room in a local church where we held auditions. Nearly 100 kids took their turn getting up on the stage and singing their little hearts out... and we smiled and watched and recorded thoughts and over and over I kept thinking the same thing. 

It takes incredible bravery to do what they're doing up there. 

Occasionally, one of the kids would cry--either before or after their performance. Always we went to them to tell them not to worry...because they'd done such a good job just by getting up there. 

It occurred to me with one child in particular, that there was enough fear to bring about a pretty steady diet of tears for a few very long minutes... 

He was scared...but he did it anyway. Nine years old and he talked himself into being brave. 

I'm 37 and I wonder if I can do the same thing. 

I walked away feeling so encouraged and so inspired to have witnessed this kind of bravery over and over again, and I knew once again (not that I'd been doubting) that God had brought us back here for this very purpose. This is exactly what I'm meant to do in this exact moment. 

And my soul was so still for it. 

And I am blessed. 

 

Creative Spaces vol. 2 & A Giveaway!

When we moved back to Illinois from Colorado, we knew we needed a house with creative spaces for both Adam and I. It's not often you find such a thing, especially when you're also hoping for four bedrooms, but somehow, miraculously, we did. 

And I'm so thankful every single day. 

Our house is such a blessing to me...but it's definitely a work in progress. I felt a little selfish starting our renovations with my own office space, but it was the most pressing considering the fact that I work from home. 

And also considering this is what it looked like before: 

The folks who lived here before really loved earth tones. 

Redoing rooms is a family affair in our house. 

So we all got to it. And I'm so happy we did. Not long after I'd finished I got an email from one of my all-time favorite magazines, Creating Keepsakes. They were doing another Creative Spaces issue and would I be interested in being a part of it? 

Um, does the world as I know it revolve around coffee? Of course I want to be a part of it! 

My good friend Liz's room was featured in their first issue, so I already knew this was going to be one of those slam dunk publications, the kind you get lost in...the kind you read with a notebook nearby for all the inspiration inside...because who doesn't LOVE to peek inside other people's creative spaces? (And who isn't looking to be more organized?)

So, one day in October, CK sent me Adam. (Ironic, considering that the Adam they sent was not the Adam whose last name I share.) 

This Adam is a hugely talented photographer here in the Midwest. And I got to watch while he set up and shot my room. 

I tried to stay out of his way, but I'm a scrapbooker, you know I had to take my own pictures of this. And look, I was sort of incognito...

Anyway, my copy should be here any day now and I can hardly wait to see it! Just the sneak peek has me dying to see more!!! You can see that for yourself right HERE. 

And CK's own, the fabulous Megan Hoeppner is chatting up this special issue on My Craft Channel so that's another great way to find out more about this publication! 

Read more from Megan here on her blog.

The funny thing is, in her post, Megan points out an Ikea cart (it's on the cover) that's featured FOUR different times in this issue...and while I had NO idea because I'd never seen it before, I spotted it in the bathroom section at Ikea but sadly didn't pick it up. I mentioned my regret in passing and guess whose sweet 'ol husband made the hour drive to Ikea to get it for her for Christmas? Yep. It was the best Christmas present.

I might go back and get another one! It's SOOOO cute! 

So, all that leads me to the most important part of this post...

WHO WANTS TO WIN?!

Today I get to give away a copy of this fabulous magazine to one of my very lucky readers! 

Let me tell you, it's chock full of inspiration and organization and practical tips you can actually make work for you, so even if you're not looking to overhaul your space, there is still so much you can get out of this book...

So, how do you enter? 

1. In the comments section of this blog post, tell me what space makes you feel the most creative? 

There. You're entered. 

BUT...for additional chances to WIN...

2. Blog, Tweet, Facebook or Pin this post (in other words, share, share, share!) and then come back here and leave another comment for each one you do. That means FOUR more chances to WIN! 

3. Cross your fingers. 

I'm pretty sure the issue is popping up at Barnes and Noble and other bookstores, so make your way out to grab a copy right away! You're going to LOVE all the inspiration you find. 

Now, leave a comment...I'll draw a winner next week so spread the word for lots of chances to WIN! 

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Quiet for the Busy Mind...

This week has felt more like a month. Getting back into the swing of things has been more difficult than I expected. 

I find myself scattered and trying to catch up. The other day, I started to clean out my inbox, finally returning emails and patting myself on the back that I'd made some headway. 

Within an hour, 85% of the people I'd written had responded. Apparently, they each have a better system for responding to email than I do.

It just kind of goes that way sometimes. You get caught up doing important things like marveling at how very much Ted Dekker resembles Bo Brady:

Days of our Lives fans of yesteryear will remember the REAL Bo Brady. 

Truth be told, last night I went to bed with a word in my head...quiet. And I knew God was speaking. He does that all the time, they say. 

I don't think it's the same as him saying "Shut up for a minute"...I just think he's longing for me to be mentally still. And I struggle with that...it's why I started writing my prayers down in the first place years ago...because I was far too distracted to focus on praying out loud.

I'm like the Dog in "Up." 

I blame this  tardy reflection on Christmas and New Year's. When everyone else was pondering their lives, I was purposely not thinking...I gave myself permission to stop the busy-brain and just soak it all up.

The time with my family...

The Christmas Eve traditions...

Art time with the littles...all of them...

And I didn't think about blog stats or marketing ideas or what comes next...not even once. Maybe once. But not much more than that. 

It was liberating to give myself a mental vacation. 

To spend time lazing with the family and loving on them the way I should be every day (even when they are grumpy)...

She was grumpy. 

I felt filled up. Full up. Overflowing. 

Thankful. 

And now I'm left trying to pull those things into my daily life. My real life. The life with duties and responsibilities and deadlines. 

It's familiar territory. I've been here before...clinging to earlier revelation and allowing myself to reflect. 

Challenging. 

How do you do it? How do you still the busy mind? 

Are You Limiting God?

I've been doing something lately that I wasn't even aware I was doing...funny how that happens, isn't it? You don't always see the forest for the trees. Or whatever that saying. 

I've been in another one of my funks. It mostly happens because I'm impatient, and I know it, and I always look back and see God's hand in the thing...later. But during is the challenging part. (My sister blogs about something similar today...)

I like to have everything all figured out. 

I like order. I like a plan. 

What I don't always like is when God changes the plan or takes me on an unexpected detour. It always stretches me in every feasible way. 

Walking 'round the mountain (again) I want to shake a fist up at God until I realize if I'd learn the thing once and for all I wouldn't be here again. 

How hard-headed can one girl be? 

But yesterday, something happened to me. A revelation of sorts...a moment of stark clarity where I realized, once again, how very much God loves us. How he gives us just what we need when we need it... and it almost never looks like we expect it to. 

There I was devising my plan again. I'd been doing it for months. I had things all sorted. I had a checklist and everything made sense to me. 

Until it didn't. Until things started going in the opposite direction...until the prayers I was praying seemed to be going unheard. And I'm not talking silence from heaven...I'm talking answered prayers that weren't at all the answers I wanted or thought I needed. 

And the truth is, I was kind of mad. 

I know we're not supposed to get angry with God, but I knew what he'd told me, and it felt like he gave me a directive and then walked out the door. Pushed me out of the boat, so to speak. 

God, where'd you go? 

Do you ever feel that way? 

But yesterday, something struck me. It wasn't that he'd gone from me...it's that I'd started making Him smaller than He is. My thinking--the way I was planning things out in my head--it became all about what I thought I knew. 

I stopped looking at my life through God's lens and started processing everything in my own understanding. 

Yesterday, I spotted a little sticky note under a stack of papers on my desk. I wasn't even really cleaning, just sort of shuffling things around when I saw it. On it there were words I'd written...the kind you write down and almost instinctively say "Yeah Right. Like that'll happen" AS you're righting. 

Big dream kind of stuff. 

See, for all my head knowledge that God puts desires in your heart so you'll ask him for them...I didn't believe he had any interest in mine. In my own thinking, I'd begun to limit God. 

And it really wasn't about God. It was about me. It was about thinking I wasn't good enough or smart enough...that it was selfish to pray certain things...like a kid just out of college figuring exactly what I needed to get by and not a cent more, I presented my request to God. 

But God isn't a God of mediocrity. And I'm not just talking money...I'm talking every aspect of our lives...he doesn't want us to live a mediocre life. He wants us to push for more. He wants us to work for more. He wants us to love unconditionally, to give wholeheartedly, to believe fully. 

And somehow, I lost sight of that for myself. 

So I took out my journal and I scrawled it all down. So messy I can't even read it. But I wanted to remember the power of the revelation. 

Don't limit God. He has HUGE plans for us. Wait on him in earnest expectation. 

There are floodgates to be opened...

Do we have the faith to believe?

Hand Lettered Wooden Signs

One of my very favorite things about Christmas is the time I get to spend with my sister and her family.

We're very different, Carrie and I. She is often on the go and I'm content to be home. She's athletic and I'm...well, not. She's totally goofy and I tend to be kind of lame and un-fun. 

But where it matters, we're very much the same. We share the same value of family and we both have a profound love of scarves. 

(Carrie's Cmas present scarf)

Oh wait. That's Carrie's scarf too. One of her girls down in Georgia made it for her. I am willing to pay her to make me one too because it's awesome. 

Anyway, I have a hard time shopping for people. I put a ton of pressure on myself to get things right, but Carrie mentioned she really wanted some artwork for her bedroom. It seems like our own bedrooms are the last to be decorated, doesn't it? 

Mine is. You should see the nasty blue color walls we're sporting right now. 

Think...nautical. 

With this bedspread:

(I do miss having walls that I picked out myself...)

I've completely sidetracked myself. 

Anyway, I had been dabbling in hand lettering on wood signs ever since I raided my dad's scrap wood pile. It's amazing how he can turn the nastiest wood into something beautiful... so I had a big piece here, and I decided to attempt to create something for Carrie. 

I started by diluting white paint and brushing a thin coat onto the wood.

Then, I chose a phrase appropriate for a bedroom and printed the letters out at the size I needed.

I used graphite paper to trace them onto my background. 

I do not have a steady hand so this was slow-going the first time, and I learned a TON. I now use tape on the straight edges, though I'm getting better free-hand. 

I think. 

This is how it looked when I was done (excuse the iPhone photo).

I called my dad and asked him if we could build a frame for it. I brought it to their house on Christmas Eve day and he and I escaped to the wood shop where he taught me how to make a frame. 

I am not ready to do this alone but it was fun to watch... Once he'd affixed it to the artwork (I knew I wanted it flush to the front), I painted it the same blue as in the word "Bless". (The blue is actually a nice turquoise though you can't tell it from these pictures.) 

I was pretty happy with the way it turned out:

My only regret is that I didn't get a great photo of it before Carrie left for Georgia, but I think you kind of get the idea... 

I thought about painting some funky design on the right side but decided not to. I wanted it clean and simple. 

I've just finished making one for my own house where I learned how to distress the letters to get that chippy wood look we all love so much...but the frame won't be done till the weekend. 

What have you been creating lately?

New Year. No Resolutions.

I took some time off. 

I forgot to tell you before I did and wonder if an "Out Fishing" sign should've graced this page for the past two weeks. 

I needed the break. I still do a little, I think. 

Last night, Adam said to me regarding the past two weeks, "This is the first time I've ever seen you just do nothing." I almost got offended. "When did I do that?" 

"At your mom's. Here. You just sat and painted with the kids. Or the day you sat and read a book." (Submerged by Dani Pettrey. Highly recommend.) 

He said it like he admired it. Like I'd done something noble. But it struck me like I'd done something wrong. I find I'm so caught up in doing all the time. Even when I say I'm going to knock that off. This morning, as I returned to my regularly scheduled program, I pondered the question "Where does this desire to achieve come from?"

It keeps me from relaxing. It drives me away from contentment. It prevents me from allowing myself to be loved...just for being who I am. 

The way God wants to love me. 

As New Year's came and went, I thought about choosing one word. I considered making resolutions. But then I realized I was just setting myself up to fail. I always have a list of goals...and they have nothing to do with the calendar. Just because I turned the page on 2012, doesn't mean my goals change...

And yet, the pressure is there. To be thoughtful. To be in line with what everyone else is doing. 

But I'm not. I'm not mentally prepared to choose a word for 2013, and I have a long list of things I'd like to change about myself right now...yet somehow they overwhelm me.

There are simple tasks: 

Eat healthy dinners together as a family. (No judgment on how many per week.)

Drink more water. 

Pray more. 

Go easy on myself. 

At what point do we cut ourselves a little slack? When do I settle in to God's warmth and just rest? For all my head knowledge, I wish my heart would latch on to that one...

Because sheer exhaustion will steal your joy.

And because rest is a weapon. 

I'm starting this year with big faith and lots of prayer...getting to a place where God's voice is the loudest one I hear. Shutting out what everyone else is saying and honing in on the One whose opinion matters. 

It's where I should've been all along...

Book Lover's Giveaway WINNER!

All of these beautiful books...

Are going to one very lucky girl. 

Lisa P said...

Can not wait to get my hands on this. Right up my alley. Dani and I could be great friends. My loves are dark chocolate and a good iced mocha and I told my husband I would love to live on a secluded part of a gorgeous beach one day. hmmm..

ReplyDecember 13, 2012 at 09:15 AM

Lisa, email your address to me at courtneyrwalsh {at} gmail {dot} com and we'll get your books out pronto! :) Thank you to everyone who entered!!!

I hope you'll check out these books for yourself...they're good ones!!

Five Things I've Learned on my way to 37

I had a birthday this week. 

I turned an age that puts me closer to 40 and I have mixed feelings about that. Every year, I tell myself (and everyone else) that it's not a big deal, this birthday one week before Christmas.

It's not really something special or celebratory, but there's this tiny piece inside of me that secretly hopes a little bit of that childhood birthday magic settles on my shoulders for just a few hours on December 18th. 

But when you're a grown-up, let's face it, birthdays are just like every other day...you still have responsibilities, after all, and you ask for things like flooring--practical presents that are definitely cause for excitement, but about as far from the pile of gifts that used to grace the end of my birthday bed as you can get. 

And the closer I get to 40, the more comfortable I get in my own skin. I find myself worrying less about things like bags under my eyes or the number on the scale. I start thinking more about this life and the legacy I want to leave...what am I doing here...and what do I want to be doing here...? 

And I think it can all be summed up in two words:

I spent some time creating last weekend, and I wanted to do something simple...a reminder to myself to keep going on my Big Dream List. One of those big dreams came true about two weeks ago (I can't really talk about it yet) and it floored me. It was like God was saying, "yeah, I was there when you wrote that down." 

And I was thinking, "Huh. How 'bout that?" 

I've learned a few things on the way to 37.

Like...

1. A bad day can be instantly made better by a dance break. (I recommend this song. Try not to at least chair dance. I dare you.) 

 

2. Coffee is one of life's greatest pleasures. 

3. Nothing is more important than your family. Sometimes you have to take a look at what you're doing and how it affects them...if it's not good, change is in order. 

Photo by LyndseyLew Photography

4. You can't be good at everything. 

5. Most of all, if your dreams don't scare you, then they're not big enough. I had to readjust some of my big dreaming accordingly and I can tell you I'm now properly afraid. 

But I feel pretty confident that God's got my back...even when it doesn't look like I think it should. 

Funny how that works, huh? 

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The Scariest Day of My Life

I have a big imagination. Some might say I'm a bit overly dramatic. In my old(er) age, I feel I've gotten less so, but yesterday's events have me thinking twice about that. 

In the wake of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary, I learned something about myself. I don't like to rest in pain. It's not that I'm not sympathetic or aware...it's the opposite. I can put myself there in a heartbeat. I can feel that pain--a pain so big and vicious, no one can rest there for too long. 

But some people do. They have to because that is their new reality. 

Sophia is eleven, so we've begun fielding questions like "Don't you think I'm old enough to stay home by myself?" Technically, no, she has to be twelve, but I have a responsible girl on my hands, so about three times now, I've allowed her to stay home while I run a quick errand.

I always run through my list of safety checks that include locking the door, not opening it for anyone even the mailman, and not telling anyone via text that she's home alone. 

And then I worry about her until I walk back in the door.

But not yesterday. Yesterday, she had early release from school and she wanted to eat lunch at the same time I had to run Sam to preschool. His school is literally in our back yard, so it maybe takes five minutes to drop him off.

I pulled in the driveway after dropping him and got a text from Sophia. It was a response to a text I'd sent her about coming to the back of the parking lot at her school. Apparently, she'd just gotten it half an hour later. 

I opened the door and started to tell her that the text was old but she wasn't at the kitchen table. There was the Nook she'd been reading and the dishes from lunch...but she wasn't there. 

She must be in the bathroom. 

I checked, but no sign of her. Into the front room where our laptop is plugged in. She's not there. 

I wasn't worried. She probably had headphones on and couldn't hear me. I ran upstairs to her room. Empty. Just like the boys' rooms, the two upstairs bathrooms and our bedroom.

She wasn't listening to music.

She wasn't watching TV.

She wasn't answering me when I was yelling at her--a little more frantically now.

I rushed downstairs to the bathroom...my head spinning with questions, looking for the logic. Why isn't she answering me? My office was empty. Adam's studio...empty. I even looked in the empty storage room, wondering if maybe she was playing a joke on me? 

Not a nice joke, Sophia. I'm getting scared now. Where are you? 

I run back upstairs and do another pass through. I walk outside and survey the neighborhood. Nothing. No sign of her anywhere. 

She. Is. Gone. 

My daughter is not in the house. 

Where is she? Why is she not in the house? Where else could she have gone? Are the neighbor kids home? Was the door unlocked? Were there any suspicious cars in the neighborhood when I left? Could someone have taken her in FIVE minutes? 

WHY DID I LEAVE HER ALONE???

I called Adam. I was calm for maybe two seconds. I'm still frantically searching every closet, every nook, every possible spot she could be. 

"She is not in this house. She is not here." 

Adam is calmer than me. "Ok, let me call the police." 

"No, this doesn't make sense. She has to be here. Where else could she be?" 

For that moment, neither of us knew what to do. We just sat there, no explanation. Our kids don't leave the house without permission. There is no good reason for her to be gone. 

Why is she gone? 

I have never in my life known the depth of that fear. I haven't let myself ever feel that fear--not even when Sam nearly stepped out on the highway into oncoming traffic. In that moment, there were no answers. There was no logic. 

There was just pure, deep, ugly, black fear.

And a very quiet, very empty house. 

I hung up with Adam and called my mom. "Did Sophia call you?" (She can't even understand me at this point, and in retrospect, she's probably the last person I should've called because when you hear your mother's voice, emotion just spills out 100 times greater than it would have.) I try to explain to her what's going on--that Sophia is not here. I can't even believe I'm saying these words. 

"She's just gone." I know I'm hysterical, my hands are shaking. My daughter is missing and...

Then, behind me, a voice. "MOM!" 

I spin around and see her, red-faced and cold. 

"I'm right here." 

I hang up the phone (Sorry, Mom) and call Adam, but the only thing I can say over and over again is "She's here. I've got her. I've got her." 

And my heart lurches even thinking about what could have happened--what does happen to parents because we live in this fallen world. 

And I feel a little silly for it now...that Sophia got that half-an-hour-old text and thought I meant for her to come over to the parking lot at Sam's school. That she probably walked out the back door just as I was pulling in the driveway. That she crossed a busy street (twice), wondering all the time why I was asking her to meet me at the back of Sam's parking lot...

That she was safe...

But it gave me a peek inside the horrible world of a parent's worst nightmare and I really didn't like what I saw there. 

We can't protect them 24 hours a day, and the harsh reality of that sets in like a cement block in my gut. 

And again, I'm faced with the same question I had when I first heard about the latest school shooting...Why?

Why would anyone do this? Why do bad things like this happen? 

And it drives me to my knees. Those were the longest ten minutes of my life...how do parents do this for hours...days...weeks...?

I think I scared Sophia with my hysterics, but the truth is, I'm thankful she knew how upset I would be if anything ever happened to her. I'm thankful she saw that we love her that much. 

About an hour later, after we'd calmed down and established that she was safe, she said, "See, Mom, just another reason to get me phone...it's for your sake as much as it is for mine..." 

She handed me a list of "Reasons why I should get a cell phone" and flashed me a smile. 

Gotta love a girl who seizes an opportunity.