Handwritten Notes

There are so many things I wish to be in this life. The list is never ending. I read something today that really made me think about things with a whole new perspective.


I find that in most cases, this seems to be true. I am always afraid of the unknown. I find that changing who you are under that hard shell that you present to the world is very difficult. You can be whoever you want to be on the outside, the inside is a completely different story. I struggle everyday to find meaning in my life. What does God intend for me? What do I intend for me? How can I balance the two things?
Today, I have decided to become whatever I want to become. I’m not going to let reality, hardships, heartache, failure, fear, responsibilities, other people’s words or disapproval hold me back anymore. Sometimes you need that push. You need that awakening. I want to write a book. I want to have a successful blog. I want to get freelance jobs. I want to learn new things. I want to be a sponge. I want to feel fulfilled.
My mom sent me an article a few weeks ago about a girl from the town that she lives in who is a final contestant in a contest to make her lifelong dream come true. Forgive me, but her particular dream escapes me at the moment. I do remember that she enjoys composing personal love songs for couples who are getting married. The article was interesting to me, but the handwritten note that came with it from my mother was of more interest. She was telling me to follow my dreams. She was telling me that sometimes in life, you have to wait to follow your dreams, but if you want them bad enough, they will happen. It just might not be in the timeline that you had hoped. She told me about how her dreams were wait listed until after my sister and I were grown. I love you mom. I love you for still handwriting me notes. I love you for all your advice, love, and kindness. With that being said, I am going to respectfully disagree. I’m not going to wait. I am going to grab the sun from the sky. I am going to pull it close to me and I am not going to blink. I want it all. I want everything this life has to offer. I refuse to wait. I refuse to let life take me down. I refuse to die unfulfilled and unscarred. I will wake at odd hours and dream with my eyes open. I will work hard to find where I fit and then work harder to not fit there anymore. I will not give in, I will not give up.


Savory Sundays

Sundays are my favorite day of each week and my least favorite day. First, they are great because we have had all day Saturday to rest, recuperate from the week and just do what makes us happy. For instance, college football. College football, sleeping in, laundry and the house smelling like something warm and savory coming from the oven. That’s what Saturdays are for me. Sundays are different. Sundays are sacred. They are The Lord’s day. They are a new beginning to the new week. They are a new chance at being positive. They are a reason to smile and be thankful. My Sundays generally look the same these days. We go to church, we have lunch and we take a nap. After that, the possibilities are endless (well, as far as my 15 month old is concerned). We enjoy playing outside. We take a stroll around the yard in our wagon. We slide down our fun, plastic slide. We visit with the horses. Lately, our favorite thing to do is play in the watering trough.

Some of you may think it’s disgusting to let your baby play in the water that horses drink from. I say, it’s just my son being a boy. I will not apologize.
We usually come inside before the sun goes down. We finish the laundry and as the last load is drying, we sit picnic style on the kitchen floor. Together we enjoy a meal and I listen to him as he babbles on. He is perfect. I could not imagine a better date.
Sundays are also the worst day of the week. If my husband has been home for the weekend, it’s the day he packs everything back into his bag. It’s the day we take a long time getting out of the bed. Every inch of sunlight that sneaks through the blinds brings us minutes closer to the inevitable fate that awaits us.
When I was pregnant, I could not hold my tears in, I would bawl as he pulled out of the driveway. I have learned to be much stronger. Today, after daddy left, we went to church. We went to lunch. We came home and Cooper took a nap. That’s when I quietly cried. While my baby slept away his long morning, I sat on our bed. I closed my eyes and opened them. When I opened them, his face was right there. It was right where it had been hours before. I could see the curves of his face and feel the heat of his breath. I closed my eyes again. This time, he was gone and streams of heat rolled down my face.
Sundays are special days. I live for them and sometimes dread them at the same time. I pray for strength and thank God for letting me wake up to see another one.


Today is our three year wedding anniversary. I know, three years isn’t a big deal. It’s not ten, twenty or fifty. I’m not going to pretend like it’s any less important than a decade though, because it is important. It’s important to me to celebrate even what may seem like the smallest of feats. I chose that specific word for a reason.
plural noun: feats

1. an achievement that requires great courage, skill, or strength.
Three years of marriage has been a FEAT. I love my husband more than any words from the greatest writer could ever describe. He gives me strength. He holds me up. He balances me. He makes me want to be a better person. He educates me. He supports me. He encourages me. He is part of me. There is no other person in this world who understands me like he does and I’m not only talking about the good parts of me. He understands the whole, imperfect me. That is something I never knew I had or even knew I needed three years ago. (Because, let’s face it, when you first get married, you are covered in that “just married” dust. You know the kind, it makes all bad and scary things about marriage seem like they will never touch yours.) What I have learned in the last three years is that our marriage, just like our life, is always evolving. New jobs, children, moves, stress, hobbies, diets, friendships and community are just a few of the things that constantly change throughout our lives. So, it is unrealistic for me to think that with all of those things changing, that anyone’s marriage ever stays the same. Yes, you can have constants in your marriage like loyalty, trust, love and friendship, but marriage evolves from the changes in your lives as a couple and your lives as independent people.
I realized today that half of our married life, we have lived away from each other. I have so many wonderful friends and family who call and check on me all the time. I think the number one question I hear from most is, “How long has it been since you have seen Ben?” I answer them honestly. “Oh, I saw him last weekend” or the current answer “about a month.” This usually prompts the response, “I don’t know how you do that, it must be so hard.” Here is the simple and honest answer. Yes, it is hard. Yes, I do struggle. Yes, sometimes I am selfish and want him to give up his dreams for me and his kids. Yes. Yes. And yes.
With that being said, marriage is not easy. It’s not for wimps. It’s not for quitters. My husband has given me so much to be thankful for in this lifetime. When I hear his voice, it moves me. When I see him, I beg for time to stand still. What will marriage feel like in 3 more years? In seven more years? In 20 more years? I don’t know. All that I do know is that love and marriage are great achievements that deserve to be celebrated. That is exactly what I intend to do.
To my husband:
Neither time nor distance can ever change the way I feel about you. I wake up every single morning and wish I could kiss you. I tell our son every single day what a great and wonderful man you are. I did not know three years ago what our future would hold, nor do I know now. I do know that I appreciate you, love you and respect you more every day. You have shown me more love in this lifetime than I ever deserved. I love you. Always.