Plant

So I have this plant. 

When my grandmother passed away it was really the only thing I was able to keep from her. The only living thing. And I had one goal. Keeping Plant alive. As long as Plant was living...a living, flourishing piece of my grandmother was still with me. It was like some imaginary connection between heart and soul. Some reflection of her every time I gazed at Plant.

Plant sat in my kitchen window. Every time I washed the dishes she was my silent little reminder of everything grandma was to me. Beauty and grace and love and excellence and elegance. Everything she was always made me better. She was life. So much life inside of her. The way she took on every day and every task and every hobby in joy and celebration and deep hearted enjoyment. There aren't a lot of people who live life so fully. We all know a few though. Those people who sharpen us and make us better. 

But Plant began to struggle and in my kitchen window she began to shrivel and die. For two years I fought to keep her alive. And my resuscitation efforts seemed to be failing. 

Then in November on our trip to Cozumel my mind was set on returning to Miami with another treasure. A hammock. To sit outside my front window. In this perfect little nook that had been neglected and overlooked since we had moved in. 

And I hung my beige Mexican baby in that forgotten little spot with transparent curtains which automatically transformed the space into romance and peace. A little slice of heaven right outside my window. And finally only one thing was missing. Something in the corner on a tiny wire stand. 

Plant. 

And Grandma's plant was my final touch to coziness and serenity.

And in it Plant has flourished. In the open air. The God sent South Florida breeze. Cool crisp evenings lounging, meditating, loving my time in my secret nook. 

And it occurred to me. Plant needed more. It needed fresh air and real sunlight and a new place. And maybe that's something for all of us to figure out in this new season. To get out. To get alone. To breath fresh air. Not to stand still. To lay in crisp cool night air. To be. To find contentment in that secret place. Sounds like something deeply profound I discovered in Scripture. To drink in the sunlight and to find solace even in the darkness. To allow God to breathe fresh breath into our heart and soul and mind and spirit. In the way that only He can. And to flourish and grow deep in Him, rooted and healthy exactly as He intended.

Plant thank you for living. Abuela thank you for being a difference maker in my life. God thank you for the secret places and for the ability to love deeply and to think profound thoughts in that Cozumel hammock. I have a feeling there will be a lot of sunset prayers out here and I hope I live in this word each and every day because this truth can keep me and allow me to flourish and it's all I really need to know...

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭91:1-2‬ ‭

Sabbatical Baby

Sometimes we lose ourselves.  Our true selves.  The better us. And it is up to us to find our way back. 

Ministry is the best life.  I can still remember summer camp.  Age 14.  Crying my eyes out at the altar. I committed to serve Jesus with my everything…each and every day of my life.  But it is not like teaching or business or computer programming or uber driving.  It never stops.  One’s mind never stops.  You never stop caring or thinking or dreaming.  Awake in the middle of the night wondering who is sick or hurt or lonely or new and finding a place to connect or questioning yourself if you’ve prayed hard enough or given enough or remembered a birthday gift or at least a card or funeral flowers or welcoming a new baby or a coffee appointment or a hospital visit and you pray you've given your very best. 

As much as we fought it and talked about it and resisted and pleaded, SABBATICAL was the right thing. 

Finding our way back to what God intended us to be…fully in love with Him, with one another, and our babies. 

We loved each other well, worked out together (like the first time in 5 years), talked a lot, listened intently, prayed, rested, had our car stolen from our hotel in the middle of the night, found our car in a casino a week later (go figure), read books until 4am, went to church, observed, learned, unplugged, found new joy in our babies, laughed, hiked for 5 hours in the Redwoods (yay), rode trollies in San Fran, ate unbelievable fried fish from the bay and an ungodly amount of Ghirardelli chocolate and sourdough bread bowls from famous Boudin's, drove Napa Valley's gorgeous vineyards wishing we had thought ahead and scheduled a tour into the caverns, rode bikes across the Golden Gate Bridge, roller skated in an old church on disco night, won the Amazing Race on a cruise ship (Stocker 4 we are team and the medals are proof), rock climbed the fiercest walls, bartered in Mexico, made chocolate like the ancient Mayans, watched way too many movies (from the girl who never watches TV), built pinatas, ran the track on the 12th deck, took spinning classes (this hasn’t happened since Natalia was 2), enjoyed Mariachis over a Cozumel lunch, and fell in love deeper than ever before. 

Thanks to each of you that came week after week and prayed and fought the urge to text and are believing for God’s very best in this next season…for this city, for a brave church, and for your pastors.  

We love each of you with our everything and we urge you to stay in love with God, seek Him with all your hearts, and never lose sight of who He created you to be. My prayer is for more of Him and less of me, because honestly that’s what would make this world a better place and me the best me. 

Dominatin'

Boudin's Sourdough Crab

Castello di Amorosa, Napa Valley

Harry's in San Fran

Church of 8 Wheels was converted from church
to skating rink.  My honey wouldn't skate but
he went for moi.

Napa Baby

Ghirardelli

Fog Harbor Fish House

Muir Woods

Wowzers!

First timer

Pinatas & Mayan Chocolate

Today Is A Gift

If today was my last…

I would drink sweet tea.

Love my family well.

Kiss my baby’s sweet, soft face a lot…just to see him smile. 

Rollerblade early in the morning listening to something deeply spiritual like Coldplay or Bethel or Madonna. 

Touch my sweet Natalia’s silky hair to wake her up. 

Create something. 

Pray.

Forgive.

Find something to laugh about.

Write.

Snuggle my London dog.  And even try to love her slobbers.

Dress in all black not because I’m mourning but because it always makes me feel perfectly skinny.

Clear my mind and heart.

Cry silent tears.

Clean my house impeccably. 

Watch the sunset go down.

Thank my husband for how well he has provided. 

Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery.  Today is a gift. 

Dive into it. Embrace it.  Treasure it.  Because it’s the best you will ever have. 

Kiss Someone Please

It’s the first day of Fall.  Things are changing.  Seasons ending.  And I’m expectant.  Expectant and excited and ready.  Ready for something.  New.  In fact craving it….something new and real and life changing…shedding off the same old thing…and breathing in new air…and embracing fantastic colors of what my life could be…if I would just let go…of the old…not even knowing what to expect but ready…so ready. 

A little sad to see what was sunshine and big watery waves and free days to do nothing but sit in the sand, drinking cold lemonade and swallowing hot sun.  Trying, really trying to brown this white girl’s body.    Even if it will never happen. But mostly hiding under umbrellas because I already know I’ll be burned and pinkish and peeling.  Eating half mushy, almost sweet room temperature strawberries under that same umbrella and bags of Doritos because summer days are not summer without Cool Ranch and Nacho Cheese.  And that one unending and unforgettable game of UNO.

That summer moment was real and tangible.  It was love at its very best. 100 degrees. And me in my bikini trying to act all cool and confidant, but secretly feeling completely self conscious. And my tribe. 

But it’s Fall now.  I change.  Life changes.  And I’m craving the new.    

Autumn is starting over. Again. It’s new colors all around me.  Peeling off the burnt and dead outer me.  To reveal the better me.   Shedding those dry and dying leaves and rotting parts that enjoyed summer a little too long.  The places that stayed in the fiery sun a little too long. And got burnt in the fire. Enjoying myself a little too much.  

We were never meant to stay in summer.  Because day after day of the sand and umbrellas and Doritos would eventually become monotonous and boring and make me completely fat and lethargic.  And life is completely too beautiful to ever be boring. 

Never once in all my life have I been bored.  Because I am always running to the new seasons. 

And here’s my Autumn hope.  To dream again.  To wake up refreshed. To go. Because the dream He gave me is too big to sit still. To Fall in love with something new…music I’ve never heard, friends I’ve never met, a place I’ve only read about. So that I can be a stranger somewhere in some strange place that fascinates me and draws me in and I love it mostly because it is brand new and unknown and it smells and sounds and feels absolutely different than anywhere I’ve ever known. 

To love someone so much you can’t help but kiss them—a baby or your freckled gorgeous daughter or your puppy or an old person or maybe a stranger (or maybe not), just kiss someone please. To become someone’s best friend.  Because you make them better and they make you better. Because you get each other. To live a new adventure.  With your best friend. Take a new route.  A road untravelled. And you are the first lucky person to find it. And it takes you somewhere to some great adventure.  In the Fall.  

To love well in this season, but to keep my heart set on God. To give my heart fully to God.  Remembering that in summer I was burned.  Because people will fail us, but if we allow Him to work through us to love others, not in our own strength or our own flesh, but like He loves others, He will be the keeper of our heart.  Not man or desire or flesh. He will protect our hearts from seasons of heartbreak and He will piece us together again.  He must protect our hearts, because it is the thing from which everything else good flows.  And may I be infinitely good.  When others criticize may I praise.  When others doubt, may I believe.  Even in my failures or others failures, my I find grace.  When I am burnt, may I be remade to reveal something even better and fresh. In this season, may all things be made new. In the Fall, may my life be filled up with colors…high brown boots and yellow sweaters and hazel eyes that are filled with hope and sparks and freshly dyed blonde hair and dark blue ripped jeans and a bright crimson heart that beats for new seasons and new life and a brand new me. 

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come.  The old has gone, the new is here!”  2 Corinthians 5:17

Eyelashes & Fungus

So it was late on a Thursday night and I was prepping for an incredible, big weekend and I wanted to tap into my inner Angelina Jolie.  I always, always go to this cheap, little, ghetto nail place just around the corner.  You know the kind of place that is using paper towels as toilet paper, peeling stripped out paint hanging from the walls, and you might wonder if the cosmetologist licenses were legit.  It was a risk. It was the dollar menu of Miami nail places. No appointment necessary. Quick beauty without the cost.  No returns accepted. 

I was getting my mani refill on.  (Let me please insert that I have been going consistently to this nail place for several years now, but for the sake of time and busyness, I had just recently gone back to acrylics.) So this girl next to me started talking about how va-va-va-voom fake lashes were.  And I could clearly see another girl in front getting her lash game on. Perfection. She gave me the lash lowdown…protect them like they were your new baby…don’t get them wet. (What were they Gremlins?) Sleep on your back so they don’t touch your pillow.  Then she gave me all the wows of this spontaneous beauty journey.  Instagorgeous.  Instabeauty.  #modelstatus. You don't even have to wear mascara.  Kim Kardashian in seconds. All this for $20 (at that moment I should’ve listened to that tiny screaming voice telling me it was too good to be true).  

But of course I didn’t. 

Beauty was calling.  And I was naively sprinting to her luring call.  

And within less than 5 minutes I was superglam stunning.  It was love at first sight. I was staring at model me—instant upgrade.  All in just seconds. And all for only $20.  Where had these babies been all my life? (or so I thought…) 

I was told they would drop off one by one after about two weeks.  Two weeks came.  Two weeks went.  Three weeks.  Four.  Over a month.  I tried pulling.  Prying.  Praying. And I got one. It was half off.  And half on. These lashes were lifers. Adhered with super glue or something else that only GI Joe could fix.  But now it was dangling there.  Half on…half off.  What could a girl do? And it was horrible. So I got it all soapy and wet and I pleaded and pulled as gently as possible and I prayed, but this overwhelming pain pinched and possessed me.  The falsies had come off, but so had some of me.  It was the worst. Now I was like an alley cat that had gone through some sort of dark scrawl clothed in missing, mangled fur.   Honestly it had never occurred to me that the Lash Queen had glued them right on top of my real lashes. My beautiful, healthy, long real lashes..waaaa…waaaa…I needed Tyra Banks for this job. These lashing weren’t going anywhere anytime…maybe ever… 

A friend encouraged me to try water.  I stood in the shower until I was a wrinkled, raisiny mess.  Water drenching my lashes and eyes and every last inch of my face. Yeah. Nope. Nada. Uh Uhh Gurrlll.

What had she glued this false beauty on with?  Gorilla Glue? Tar? Cement? At this point I wondered why I hadn’t thought through this a little better.  Where were you now supermodel Christina? Maybe called the lash experts. Did lash experts even exist?

Almost another month went by and little by little a few fell off, but not without pain and not without losing my own precious homegrown lashes.  And I began to wonder if I would be turning from mangled alley cat to a raging case of mange.  2-3 scrappy eyelashes here and there lining my hazel eyes. Or worse…I wondered if there would even be any lashes left…at all.  And yeah regret ravished me.  I was all filled up with knots. What had I done?

…pause this part of the story for a moment and fast forward about 3 weeks…

Remember the nails. The whole reason I had gone to No No Nails in the first place because they were the cheapest place in town. I was beyond O-V-E-R these acrylics. They kept lifting and I could do absolutely nothing while wearing them.  And freshly out of the battle of the false lashes, I vowed to NEVER go back to Ghetto Nails.  And so I manhunted the nicest salon I could remember.  I would’ve given up Christmas at this point just to be done. 

And the nail dissection began.  The nail tech was freaked at how thick these nails were and for the next hour and a half even after soaking them, we fought the second battle of the beauty. And it hurt like a raging beast. I prayed that she wouldn’t break through the now barely there, thin nails to the skin underneath. Little remained of what had once been my own healthy nail. And after digging and scraping and buffing and filing we made breakthrough.  Only remnants remained.  Thin, barely there nails, filed down to the finger, length and thickness no longer, obviously unhealth had set in, and 6 nails had fungus. Brownish, green, funky, ugly, I-was-like-ewww-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me fungus. It was small, but it was a part of me.  

We painted them baby pink and I thanked God that there was something to paint at all.  

Finally, I found a real eyelash bar that specialized in lash beauty. And spent an hour while they tried to figure out why exactly these lashes refused to detach.  A lot of soaking, rinsing my eyes, and praying that some of me would remain when it was all said and done. My God…I prayed…would this glue affect my eyesight? Not even Rambo could’ve touched these tiny eye statues. And I did manage to save a few of my own precious lashes. Jesus did love me. 

And 5 hours of my life wasted on achieving beauty.  And so I contemplated.  

Wasn’t there a life lesson in here somewhere? 

Don’t we make these quick, unthinking decisions all the time?  Fake nails or fake lashes or fake friendships or quick boyfriends or spending sprees or sudden moves that we don’t really research or get to know or friend and find out about first. We are addicted to the rush of spontaneity and instant gratification. We want it and we want it now. Because we are searching for what will make us feel beautiful or look better or bring us the pursuit of happiness at the moment. Choices made hastily to fix something we are yearning for…beauty or relationship or self image.  And regret. And they guarantee us happiness.  But not really.  And they fix us suddenly…with scars and wounds and fungus and missing pieces all for hours and hours of what we thought we needed.  All for something we thought we were searching for. 

And emptiness and scraps and scratches and battle wounds or the pieces of our broken heart are the remnants.  

But you are SO much more.  You are life and breath and freedom and hope and stories and inspiration, not desperation. 

Don’t settle.  Don’t be cheap. Don’t get anxious. Wait & search & hope.  Yearn for the best.  Good things come to girls who wait. 

This year…girls take off the nails…remove the lashes…be you.  BEYOUTIFUL.  You are.  More than enough.  You are.  Sufficient.  You are. You.  And. That. Is.  All.  You.  Ever. Need. To. Be.