A few weeks ago, I was sitting down at a long table in a lamp-lit hotel lobby, ready to reflect on my life, and, for the first time in a long time, ask myself "Stacie, what do you want to accomplish and do in your lifetime?". I was pumped. Big questions and life reflections don't scare me. They excite me. Introspection for the sake of moving forward is my jam-a-lamma-ding-dong. Really, I love reflection so much you could put me on a bike at night and I'd keep you safe.

I was really excited to start setting goals for my blog/paper store/photography and the creative outlet it can be for me. Sometimes that's the hardest part of life, to sit down and write out what you really want. Or allow yourself to stop focusing on taking care of others/pleasing others so you can ask yourself where your own heart, passions, and desires lay.

Just as I put my pen to the paper a woman with fuzzy socks and sweatpants walked carefully by my table, trying her best not to spill the cup of coffee she'd just poured (Can we agree that every hotel in the world should have free coffee kiosks? Even if that coffee is terrible, it's free. And available. Always. Like that guy you met at your friend's wedding who asked you out but ended up not being your type but you didn't care because you'd managed to just find somebody who was available. That's the glory of free hotel coffee kiosks).

Coffee Socks Lady stopped to look at me, noticed my Storyline binder then asked me very loudly, "OHHHHH, ARE YOU HERE FOR THE STORYLINE CONFERENCE TOOOOO?!" She talked to me like we were a pair of sorority-besties getting to see each other for the first time in years.

"Let me go grab my stuff upstairs and I'll join you! I promise I won't talk too much so you can get your work done!". Before I could figure out a polite rejection to her self-invite she was back with all of her stuff. Two hours later we were still talking (mainly about her) and I wasn't sure if I was ever going to get a chance to reflect on my life. Isn't it funny how peace and quiet aren't things we seek all that often, but when we do, it's a real fight for them? 

Even though I reflected absolutely not at all and just ended up excusing myself to go back to my hotel room, one moment of my conversation with that woman has had me thinking. She sat down, looked at me with expectation and asked, "So what do you do?". I told her I was a Hall Director who really loves to write, craft, and take pictures on the side.

She responded, "So you're a writer and photographer?"

I grimaced. I've never really referred to myself by such lofty titles before. Those are my aspirations.

"YOU AREEEE, You're a Writer and Photographer. GIrl, you OWN UP TO THAT!" she squealed when she saw the look on my face.

"Uh, I guess so." And then I confided. "I just don't know when you're actually aloud to start identifying yourself with those things if you're not necessarily sure you ARE those things. Just because you enjoy them doesn't mean you ARE them." 

She told me it was time I start referring to myself as those things. To walk confidently in the things I love. The whole TED talk "fake it till you become it" mindset.

I nodded my head, but I've decided that sureness isn't that easy for me. Throughout the counseling class I've been taking this semester, I've learned that I am constantly frozen by one question: ?Does everyone else think I'm good enough?" It's a plaguing and fear-inducing question for me. It's the question I let keep me up at night. The question that really self-injures when I let it become my obsession. The answer to the question always seems to be "no". 

After my chat with sock coffee lady I fell asleep thinking to myself, "Am I good enough to be a writer?" "Am I good enough to actually be considered a photographer?" For years I've been asking myself "Am I a good enough [wife, leader, mentor, Christian, woman]?" Some of you probably know how defeating this question can be. Even a solid amount of affirmation that I'm good at photography and writing still doesn't obliterate the "Good enough" question for me. It will always be in the back of my mind.

Ah, the "good enough's". They creep into so many corners of our lives and hearts, don't they? 

Good enough's have a lot to do with titles if you ask me. I'm afraid of titles and the expectations that come with them. It's a risk to say I'm a photographer...what if you really ARE a photropharer- you could take one look at my pictures and laugh at how terrible they really are. What if you're a writer and you read my blog and think, "Gosh I hope that girl doesn't refer to herself as a writer, she's tainting our vocation." Ah, comparison. Ah, confidence. Ah, Good enough's. 

Will this question ever go away? Will I ever be a photographer? A writer? A good wife? A good Christian?

This week, I've decided to start telling people I"m "A Creative" with a blogging outlet. And I kind of like how that sounds. To me, A creative is on their way all the time. Always learning. Always growing. Interestred in so many differnet oulets. It avoids one specific title. It doesn't have a slew of expectaions with it.

The truth is, I really don't have to have a title. And I really don't think I'll ever be a certain kind of Good Enough. I've come to believe there's not a definition for Good Enough outside of God. I really have a ton of hope in the fact that I'll never be perfect. I'll never get to do everything. I'll never receive enough praise. I'll never have it all. It's my daily struggle-wagon, but I'm constantly being reminded by the Holiest of Spirits that I don't have to be enough. Jesus was enough for me. ANd that takes such a burden off my shoulders. It diminishes and destroys all my fears that I won't be all that I want to be. Because God is making me all that He wants me to be. He's given me a love for creating just as He created. I'll never amount to HIm, but I have His workings within me. ANd I love that and will cling to that when I'm haunted by the "Good Enough's". 

I know a lot of people that don't associate themselves with jesus and have been really hurt by people who follow Him. You might have even been hurt by me, and I"m sorry about that. But can you imagine what it might feel like to trust God with your burdens and know that you don't have to spend your entire life being good enough for everyone else's standards? It's an amazing hope I have. 

Are you suffering from an identity case of the "Good Enough's" lately? Have you taken the time to ask yourself if you will ever be good enough, and what will happen if you aren't? I challenge you to go deep. To dive in and address those fears of being good enough. 

A few weeks ago we jumped out of our car for a quick photosesh in  the Downtown backstreets of the little town we were married in, Weatherford, TX. 

We were there for a wedding... at the same place we were married just two years ago. 

I was filled with dreamy nostalgic thoughts the whole night. Eating waffles, carrot cake, and drinking magically cultivated coffee (because the groom is obsessed with good coffee--- he's a downright coffee snob and he knows it). The lights were twinkly and I was drunk on how sweet it was to be back where we got married.

What's crazy about that night? We actually missed the wedding because we got the time wrong. I was tempted to be angry with Brett- to blame him for messing up the time for the most important part of the evening. I gave him some edge and sass as it began to dawn on us that the ceremony had already happened and we had made it just in time for the reception. He pulled me aside and told me he was sad we missed the ceremony too, but that I didn't need to get angry, sassy, or throw a pity party. He was stern, honest, and right. He had that serious pleading in his eyes that told me my attitude choice would dictate whether or not either of us had a good time for the rest of the night---And in that moment, I had to let go of control and the fact that I was really looking forward to seeing our friend get married...and enjoy why we were there.

I think of Stacie and Brett in that same place two years ago.... and I think of how we wouldn't have communicated that way two years ago. It's taken two years of marriage for Brett to talk to me in a way that tells me I'm being ridiculous. Not in a mean way, but in a "this face and tone of voice is going to sharpen and refine the ridiculousness you, Stacie Lynne, are choosing right now" kind of way. And it's definitely taken two years of marriage for me to not immediately cower into a pity party of resentment and anger over things like missing a wedding ceremony. I can be quick to make circumstances that disappoint me about myself. I can be tempted to make Brett feel bad about mistakes- a weird way I try to manipulatively hold power over my husband. 

But what happened when I chose to celebrate and enjoy even in my disappointment?

Well.....

We loved being there in that special place, celebrating our friends' happiness, and getting to see people from our local community. We even got to see our friend's Nichole and Patrick just a few days before their baby girl was born. It was epic and beautiful to be in the presence of two people beginning their marriage journey together and to be sitting across from two other people about to begin the crazy sweet season of being parents. 

For my man on his "On the other side of 25" birthday.

This past week I went to a seminar on why college males are having much more difficulty thriving in college socially and academically these days. College used to be made of only males, but things have changed so much in the past fifty years. I'm so proud to be a woman and love all that being a woman entails--- I love that women can get an education. But man, after this seminar, my heart is heavy and sad that in some sense we haven't been paying as close attention to males in the education system, and I, for one, feel like I haven't responded to them in ways that are beneficial to their development as college beings. We talked a lot about the need for most males to be reached out to, because, frankly, it's really difficult for most of them to reach out for help. We talked about the fact that they are more likely to be honest about where they are in their academic and social struggles if we are approaching them with one secret ingredient.... 

They need to know we see them winning at life. 

Today I sat across from a woman at our church who has been counseling me Biblically and helping me discern some lies I'm believing about myself, and, in the midst of my all "about me sesh", she mentioned the fact that it's important for me to let Brett know how he's winning as my husband, as a scholar, and as a man who is pursuing and being pursued by God. Immediately I thought, "Oh yeah, Brett's a pretty "standard male"- he needs to know how he's winning!"

Well, let me tell you.... he is winning. 

Last weekend I sunk into a terrible series of bitter pity parties because finances just weren't what I wanted them to be (that's a blog for another time), my job felt taxing, relationships felt spread thin, sex life was an unrealistic expectation, and lies were filling up my brain that God wasn't worth running to. Resentment, blame, and anger welled up in my heart for my sweet husband and after I said some mean angry human things I shouldn't have said to Brett, I went to Target.

Of course.

I went to Target, walked around aimlessly trying my best not to make an impulse buy out of anger, then I just sat down and cried on a squashy foot stool in the living room section for a few minutes while I fought-- well, the grace of God. If you don't know it, fighting your God who's offering you something you don't deserve because He loves you so deeply is a really ridiculous thing to be doing in general... but especially in a Target aisle.

So I thought and fought. 

And after a few minutes I surrendered my pity party and I saw where my frustrations had left me....

 I wasn't trusting Brett, a gift in and of himself, given to me by God. And the irony of that? A lot of people can and will tell you, Brett is the kind of guy you can trust, depend on, and find deeply loyal. I wasn't trusting that he has a heart for me. For my good. For my desires. For my dreams. But mainly, he has a heart for me to know and love a God who has an even bigger heart for me, for my good, for my desires, and for my dreams. I wasn't trusting God's sweet purpose for me. 

Later that night, we laid in bed, staring at each other after a long day I was ashamed of, and I told him just the opposite of what i communicated to him before... I trust him. I trust his leadership decisions in our marriage. I trust he wants to see me thrive as his Bride and that he surrenders a lot of his time and days to ensure I do. I trust him with our finances.

He sacrifices study time so I can attack him with kisses (we joke about the fact that I could kiss Brett all day and never get tired of it) and takes time he doesn't have in his schedule to pray for me and seek God to know how to love me well when I am sad or partying in pity. He is so gentle when I say sharp words to him--- and when I think of all the ways he could have reacted to me these past two years of marriage, instead of choosing gentleness, understanding, and love, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for his heart. 

Maybe I'm totally bragging about him right now because I'm on an I-have-a-stellar-Husband high. But if you have a man in your life and you struggle with seeing him winning or you haven't told him lately how you see him winning at life--- I would love to encourage you to give him that verbal breath of fresh air. Make his day. Celebrate him even if it's not his birthday. Just like the statistics about males in college, I wonder if you telling him how he's winning will only increase the vulnerability and trust between the two of you. Isn't that what so many women and wives are longing for so often? 

Go tell him. How is he winning?

Without Purple Hair: For my big TWOFIVE last week, I sprayed my hair purple. It looked FAR better than that one time my mom let me get bleach blonde highlights for my birthday in middle school. GROSS. That's also when I used to part my hair in the middle... which is JUST NOT a hair part everyone is made for. Only the Spice Girls could pull off bleach blonde highlights and middle parts. And maybe SClub7.... they were allowed to do a lot of things my mom WOULDN'T have let me do for my birthday (like have bleach blonde highlights and wear shirts that don't cover their bellybuttons and amazing Sclub7 abs). Life, I think, would have been a little bit better without highlights and middle parts. But it probably would have been SO MUCH MORE FUN with purple hair and Sclub7 abs. I guess that's something to pursue in my next 25 years....

Without Donuts: Bleak, dark, frustrating. What would I have eaten at 3AM in college without donuts? What would "go nuts" rhyme with?

Without Harry Potter: What would my developmental life be without Harry? Um, but, seriously. Harry taught me bravery. His friends were so true and willing to sacrifice their lives for everyone else's livelihood. I cried for him and laughed with him. I'm not sure I would have ever thought school was cool if it weren't for Hogwarts. Brett and I would have had to go on a normal honeymoon if it weren't for Harry Potter World. We might have even had to go to Disneyworld instead *gasp*!!!! And what would the world do without J.K. Rowling's famous Harvard commencement speech? Cry, probably. It might sound weird to any of my friends who never got into the Harry-craze (or whose parents FORBADE them to), but I am grateful I've lived life alongside The Boy Who Lived.

Without My Creative Mind. I probably would have been far less distracted in school.

Without A brother. I wouldn't have known how to laugh, openly and unashamedly, when someone farts (or as my brother would say it, "when someone makes a fluffy"). Usually that someone is me. 

Without Coffee Shops. Don't be surprised this is on my list. I think back to the first coffee shop I ever went to and remember how my eyes lit up when I realized it was a space made for people like me. A space for dreamers and intro/extroverts. What would I have done without these spaces and warm cups of "I NEED THIS"? Well, I probably would have spent far less money. 

Without Brett. I wouldn't daily consider whether or not I'm married to Clark Kent or not. Those glasses, that look, and the way he steps up to life so bravely has me thinking he might secretly be a superhero. The guy who checked us out at Walmart today even told Brett he looked like Clark Kent. What would I do without Brett, the guy who watches and quotes Elizabethtown with me every few months? The best roadtrip partner a girl could ask for. And the guy who perseveres in loving me and serving me like Jesus served and sacrificed Himself for the church. I've learned so much from him and with him, I hope I can walk the next 25 years with him. 

Without Grace, Peace, Hope, and God. For a few months now I've been rewinding my life trying to imagine what it would have been like for me to live without hope and grace because I want to figure out how to tell people who don't know God like I do, what it's like TO know Him.

I've tried to imagine who I would have been if I didn't believe in God.

What kind of decisions would I have made without the God I've fallen in love with chasing after my heart and life? Where would I be if I hadn't let God write my story? My story is made valuable, beautiful, refined, and new because instead of receiving death, God loved me fiercely enough to sacrifice His treasure and prize, Jesus, so that I can live freely and with hope. Seeking to "Know God" has helped me know and understand so much more of myself, because He created me as a reflection of Him. Knowing my creator helps me delight in who He has created me to be. I meet a lot of people who really struggle to delight in themselves. I do too sometimes, but God will fight lies that I'm worthless- that I'm a failure- with me my entire life, because with Him, he makes me valuable and restored.

If I didn't know the hope God offers me I think I would be trying to find it in everything else. I KNOW I would be seeking acceptance through my blog, fashion sense, and creativity. I would constantly be wanting to be someone else- never loving myself. I KNOW I would be trying to find love, acceptance, and fulfillment in dating and even marriage. But it wouldn't be Brett I'd be married to. Brett and I wouldn't even be married if I didn't know God, because I wouldn't understand that Jesus dying on the cross wasn't just a terrible thing that happened to a nice man--- I wouldn't understand that I am called to sacrifice my life, out of love for others, so they can know God--- just like Jesus did. I wouldn't know how to live that way in my marriage, loving and serving Brett as Jesus would. I would make selfish decisions and attempt to hold power over others (especially women I compare myself to or feel threatened by) so I could feel better about myself. I wouldn't ask God to help me forgive others because I'd rather hold things against them and not seek restoration. 

WITH God--- What I love most is when I find myself at the end of my rope, completely distraught, feeling alone and hopeless, God tells me I am blessed because I have Him. He tells me He hasn't given up on me. He tells me He is good and has a better and deeper purpose for me than I ever imagined for myself. And I really do believe that, because trusting Him has had me wanting to serve Him and love Him all the more. He is Someone I hope everyone I know can meet and be drawn to and walk with. 

Here's to 25 more years with Him. And maybe some more purple hair.

I'm just grateful my staff still thinks I'm "best dressed". 

If there could be a caption for this picture, it would be "Ah-choo". 

Three weeks apart from my husband this summer was altogether awesome (I mean, I made a really fun music video for him and sprawled out on both sides of the bed every night) and crazy difficult (it was too familiar of a flashback of how much I wished I could just be with him during our long distance relationship). 

If there is anything that I'm really taking away from our time apart, it's the way my heart changed towards Brett because of the time I took to pray for him. 

Maybe praying isn't your thing--- but I just want to tell you how significantly it changed our marriage even though we were apart the whole time. Praying helped me see some resentments or frustrations I had toward Brett. Praying for him made me want to love and serve him sweeter and deeper. Thanking God for him was even crazier. As I wrote out and thought about why I was grateful for him, I became all the more aware of how far we've come on this journey and how God has used Brett in my life to offer me His grace and to speak truth into my life. God has given Brett the opportunities (one too many) and tools to love me fiercely in the midst of my own ridiculous failures and sillinesses. 

And the kicker? Brett came back with a huge revelation I don't think he could have had without prayer or God. My love language is verbal affirmation. Tell me how you see me flourishing a human being and your words will stick deeply with me forever. For awhile now Brett has done a good job at saying things like, "You're beautiful" and "I love you". Sometimes I'll venture to ask why, searching for further affirmation I need. And every now and then he'll dive into the "why".  After his trip away, he came back with a conviction to verbally affirm me more often and much more specifically. My need has been brought to his attention and I can already see myself growing in confidence as he affirms he intentionally and specifically. I can also see myself not just brushing off what he says as much but really accepting his words as truth, not just words he HAS to say because he's my husband and the world tells him he needs to tell me sweet things every now and then. I love that what most of Brett affirms me in, are my gifts, strengths, and skills. The things I'm good at. The ways my character flourishes. I'm so grateful for this change in his heart. I very much so believe both of us praying over our marriage  is what resulted in these changes. 

Here's the list of how I prayed for Brett each day, you can even use this as a template for yourself if you want to start a list of prayer for your husband/roommate/best friend: 

1. Safe Travels

2. His gospel driven heart would be serve God and be ever present for an opportunity to share Christ in boldness- even on his Oxford "vacation". 

3. Pray over his leadership in our homegroup

4. Thanked God for all the ways Brett has surprised me in our marriage (like how I didn't realize how loyal and gentle he would be with me). 

5. Asked God how I can serve and love Brett and be led by him according to how the church was/is led by Christ. 

6. Pray over his next two semesters of school and his internship cause he's gonna be a busy guy. 

7. Pray for his acceptance into PHD Schools and God's guidance in the PHD application process. 

8. Pray over his own personal journey with God. 

9. Pray for his family and my relationship to them to grow and flourish. 

10. Pray for his heart in regards to our sex life. (This was one of my favorite things to pray for because goodness knows this is a part of our marriage we can and will always be trusting God with.)

11. Pray over his friendships in Denton. 

12. Pray for a mentor for him. 

13. Prya over his relationships with my guy students this next year. 

14. Pray over our future family together. 

15. Pray scripture for him. 

16. Pray over your financial decisions and heart's toward finances. 

17. Pray over our every day communication, that it may continue to uplift one another, sharpen one another, and be intentional. 

18. Reflect. Does anything in our marriage need to change?

19. Pray for his travels home. 

20. Pray over the transition it will be to have him home and not have as much alone time as you've become accustomed to over the past few weeks. 

What are you praying for those closest to you? How are you praying for them? What changes do you see in yourself and in those you love after a few days of praying for them?

Living in a college dormitory with 650 freshmen is something you don't just "woopsy" into.

I'm not sure how often you hear people say this about their jobs (or how often you think this about your own occupation), but... I love my job. I get to impact, love on, and goof off with college students on a daily basis. I'd take that over a "normal day job" any day. Except, maybe, when I'm trying to sleep and 18 year olds are outside my apartment UN-EMBRACING their INSIDE voices.. Then i want a normal job. Or a baseball bat. Or just lots of sound proofing. And some wine maybe. Oh! Or a puppy! Wait no, puppies and freshmen are pretty much the same thing.  

All that to say, it's that time of year I'm reminded how terribly dramatic it can be for some human beings in this world to be expected to live with a roommate... or "alien life form", as, I'm sure, some of them refer to their strange-mannered roommate. 

The past seven years I've had several roommates pretty consistently, and OH AUNT JEMIMA, I don't think I've ever stopped learning how to successfully live with someone else. Here are the TOP THREE things I've learned along the way that really helped me out.

In conjunction with the rawness I attempt to convey in this blog, I'll be honest from the get-go: what I've learned has come mostly from my failures as a roommate, not from my successes. 

1. Unspoken Expectations will always go unmet. My boss, Eugene, says this at least ten times a day and we all love/hate him for it because he's super duper right. SUPER DUPER RIGHT. A moment that stands out to me as a "Wow, we really didn't communicate our expectations" moment, is when Brett and I went on our first anniversary trip to my Aunt and Uncle's Bed and Breakfast out in small town Texas. We had planned to stay there three days but we hadn't talked about what we were hoping to do on that trip. I was hoping to read, take lots of baths, blog, journal, watch movies, eat out, and do some antique shopping. I was also hoping to drive through the outdoor nature center near by. I had mentioned my "wants" a few times to Brett, but really hadn't asked him what he wanted out of the trip. I had a set of expectations of what our trip would look like, and honestly, he had a completely different set of expectations (a set that didn't involve us spending lots of money, which was totally understandable, but not anything close to mine). Part of that trip was just frustrating for us and I remember Brett pulling the car off the road so I could cry and get my frustrations out. So right then and there on the side of the road, we set out what we wanted the rest of the trip to look like. We are still learning how to communicate expectations. We always will be. Whether it's how clean the house needs to be, what time alone together looks like, if we want the other person to go to the coffee shop with us or not, etc. We will both disappoint each other if we don't communicate our needs and listen to the needs of each other.

2. Living with an introvert or an extrovert matters. When you gloriously move past freshmen year and are finally given the opportunity to choose your roommate(s)--- choose a personality you can handle coming home to. Sophomore year in college, myself and three other girls lived in an apartment that had a palm tree outside the front door. I remember building forts out of blankets and sheets, eating cajun chicken pasta, and watching every season of Friends with them. We called ourselves the Super Single Ladies and made bets on who would get married first. They got me a pinata for my birthday. They were some fun girls. I'm not sure I was the girl they thought they were planning on living with though. I was crazy, extroverted, and energetic my Freshmen year, but changed a lot over the summer and came back to my sophomore year of college a lot more introverted than my roommates remembered me. I'd spend a lot of time outside our apartment on coffee dates or hanging out with the leadership team I was a part of, so when I came home, I just needed to be alone. I needed to unwind, think, and re-energize by being alone. But my roommates expected me to come home, talk, and re-energize by being with them. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good at communicating my need for "me time" (it's super sad when you take into account I was a Communication Major) with them so I often just came off as frustrated, annoyed, or uninterested in hanging out with them. I'm sure I was frustrating and hurtful. Maybe you'll choose to live with extroverted roommates even though you're an introvert. I think it's totally do-able as long as you learn to communicate with them when you need to just do you and be alone. 

3. Everyone's "clean" is different. My friend, Shank, says something like, "If the farm is successful, then the barn's gotta get messy". Living in your home means it gets messy sometimes. While Brett was gone for three weeks, most of the items in our house stayed in one place. I loved it. But if I had to pick Brett or a ridiculously over-pristine-looking apartment, I'd choose Brett. I'm not sure what it is, but when Brett is home, I tend to leave my clothes around a lot more and he tends to leave his books around a lot more and our house just seems to get wrecked a whole lot more. I've learned I can waste a lot of energy trying to clean up the house when I come home every day, when, sometimes, I've just needed to compromise my standard of clean. I'm overly nit-picky. And it's stressful to myself and to Brett when I want everything in it's place always. Why is that piece of paper out on the counter? The counter won't look clean. Why is that cup left there? No one's drinking out of it so why is it out? It needs to go in the sink. I have five pairs of shoes in the living room and three in the kitchen. His bag is in that chair again- no one will be able to sit there if we have people over. All these ridiculous thoughts go through my head- and they are silly. Maybe this tip is really more about compromising than cleaning, but I think you get my point. :) 

Because he sent me this from across the room with a smirk on his face. 

This past month, Brett and I became an Aunt and Uncle for the first time, and, in our excitement to have a niece, we told everyone how pumped we were for our new roles. And, of course, in response to our excitement, that age old glance-for-a-baby-bump question, "When are y'all going to have kids?", made it's way into our lives more than a few times. I've just accepted it. You get married and people start asking you when you're going to have kids. Bam. Boom. Pow. So I'll leave my answer to this question (as well as the mental processing behind it) right here in a blog post. 

Back in high school, I vividly remember driving home from the grocery store with my mom, and, in the middle of our talk, I confessed, in a "need to blow steam" blurt-spurt: I really didn't want to have kids. I'm not sure if "I don't want to have kids" is really something you should blow-steam-blurt in front of the woman who worked so hard to love and raise you, but I just needed to talk it out.

In that moment, I knew I wanted to get married (because boys were one of my only muses in high school it seemed--- am I the only one?) but I didn't want marriage and kids.

Nuh-uh, no way.

Nothing about having children excited me. After a few bad babysitting experiences, kids left me totally drained and confused. I was unimpressed with the idea of motherhood, so I decided kids were frustrating creatures I didn't want to dedicate my life to. Ever. At fifteen, the idea of spending 18-25 years of your life taking care of human beings you have no excitement or passion for, can be overwhelming and almost repulsive. And so it was with me.

I had a lot of girl friends who talked about how stoked they were to one day be moms---that's all they wanted on their "Hello, My name is" name tags--- "Hello, my name is Mom". I heard people at my church talk about motherdom as if it was something that would eventually happen in my life, as if it was some natural expectation that I would grow up, marry a seminary driven pastor, and have a series of blessed pregnancies. I wondered if I was the only one who secretly didn't want to live up to that expectation.

WELP...My confession had barely come out of my mouth when my mom turned to me and angrily spouted, "You're gonna want to change your mind about that. If you want to get married, you need to ask God to change your heart about having kids." 

I looked on her words with disgust for a long time. Not really the part about God, but the part about changing my mind. When your'e in high school and you disagree with your mom about something, your pride keeps you frustrated with her for awhile because you just don't want her to be right, and, in that moment, I really didn't want to believe what she'd said. I love my mom, revere her character, respect her patience with me, and love the encouragement she is in my life. I'm even grateful for the moments she responded angrily at me-- cause they helped me understand the seriousness of what I was saying. After loads of babies-kids-family conversations with my mom and other women, I understand her love for motherhood and I was probably too passionately against something she was so passionately for back then. 

Even nowadays I still struggle with what she said. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just being selfish and don't want the responsibility of family life. Sometimes I already feel like I'm taking on that responsibility just in a different way, as a parent/sister/mom/friend to the college students I work with. Some days I struggle to believe Brett and I are called to have kids. And on the flip side, I think it's strange to see us not entering into a period of life we can grow and serve our own little Stine family. 

What I really love about the tuggings of my heart through the years in regards to having a family, is God has changed my heart towards motherhood in leaps and bounds since that conversation with my mom, and I find myself thinking about how I would want to raise my own kids. And yes, I know, everybody says your heart changes when you have your own kids anyway. I'm all in for that, it just might not be for awhile. 

I still get squirmy feelings in my stomach when people ask Brett and I when we are planning on having kids, because I feel like most couples have an answer. Sometimes I spit out something like "five years from now we might" or "When Hogwarts agrees to send my kids a letter, that's when!" But lately I'm trying the honesty answer, "When and if we are called to. That's when." 

For now, I'm enjoying the time we have loving on college students. The time we have babysitting kids of those in our Homegroup. The time we have watching our brother and sister-in-law parenting their first kiddo. The time we have to be Aunt and Uncle. I'm enjoying this season, a season without kids, we are in. 

"And the surviving remnant of the house of Judah shall again take root downward and bear fruit upward. For out of Jerusalem shall go a remnant, and out of Mount Zion a band of survivors. The zeal of the Lord shall do this." 2 Kings 19:30-31

Take root downward and bear fruit upward. 

It's true, I really did yell at him.

In 2008. My Freshmen year of college.

WHAT I yelled at him is probably what any young fan would yell if they'd pulled up next to him at the same Hollywood stop light they were stopped at, his car windows rolled down (his scruffy dog was in the backseat sticking it's head out the window). I giggled with my friends at how cute he was and I yelled like a free Texas-meets-California/Driving-through-Hollywood-with-your-windows-down freshmen girl would:

"I LIKE YOUR DOG!!!"

And that was it. He looked over at me, smiled and nodded. The light turned green and he was gone.

All I did in that moment was inform Ryan Gosling that I had a liking for his dog.

Yeesh.

You'd think I would have said something, ANYTHING, other than "I like your dog" to the one and only Ryan Gosling, but the thing is, my friends and I didn't know it was him until a week later when a girl on my hall ran into my dorm room and showed me a picture of that same guy, in the same t-shirt, with the same scruffy dog, taking a walk through Hollywood. It was Ryan. We both fell on the floor screaming and freaking out and I immediately thought.... of all the things to say to Ryan Gosling I told him I liked his dog.

I could have at least said, "If your a bird I'm a bird!"

I wouldn't have minded going for "Marry me Ryan Gosling, I'll babysit your dog --- I mean, our dog-- while you're filming your movies!"

That was back then of course, when I was a frivolous giggling freshmen. If I saw him today I'd probably say, "Ryan, I haven't seen you in so long, I'm a bird if your a bird."

What I love about yelling at Ryan Gosling, is that I feel this slight connection with him that's incredibly insignificant and totally not reciprocated in any way at all.

I know more about him than he knows about me. I remember him, and I can guarantee you he doesn't remember me. I can look him up on google and read all about his life or watch him play different characters in movies, but he'll never have the inclination to look me up on google or read my blog, and even if he did, he wouldn't really know me.

This whole Ryan Gosling thing really alludes to (ready for the curveball?!)... Jesus. Can't you tell? What I love about Jesus, is that he lived 2,000 years before Ryan Gosling and I know him like one of my closest and most cherished friends. He's someone I really care about and need in my life every day. What I love about Jesus, is that he knows me better than I know myself. He loves me in no way Ryan Gosling, my husband, my family, or friends could love me. He knows every thought I think (the good ones and the terrible, awful, and no-one-should-hear-those-thoughts thoughts) and still tells me He'd do anything to be friends with me. He died so we could have a friendship that lasts forever, actually. I don't have many friends like that.

Jesus is a celebrity I don't even deserve to be friends with, but He really cares for me, so He is always available for me. Always ready to listen, comfort, rejoice, mourn, and dance around to techno music with me. He is patient with me when I'm a frustrated mess that can only offer rude sarcasm to my husband. He is never rude and sarcastic to me. He is only firm and loving. I am in awe of His loyalty and dedication to help me maximize on my strengths and gifts. He's like the best barista ever because He not only fills up my coffee, He makes sure I have enough all the time. My mug is always overflowing with the best of the best roasts. When I go through my days feeling as if I'm not enough, He reminds me that His friendship and love for me is enough.

Do you only know facts about Jesus, just like you know facts about Ryan Gosling? Or, have you ever taken the time to know Jesus and His love for you?

I'd love to help you find the answer to that question if you ever want to go get coffee... I know a really great barista to hit up. ;)

This picture was LITERALLY taken the day I saw Ryan Gosling. Crazy huh?

 

Today I was asked, "What are your personal strengths?"

Immediately I mentally listed them off:

• I can do about two pushups.
• I'm really good at buying coffee.
• I'm a boss at daily misplacing the I.D. that gets me free meals and access to my building.

I asked Brett what he thought my strengths were and he started to list off a bunch that made me feel super giddy and in love with him. I'm pretty sure my face faded into a shade of lover's embarrassment, so I just gave him kisses for awhile after that because I was so smitten with his answers.

And then I intentionally decided not to ask him the other question I was asked, "What are your personal weaknesses?" because, well, I don't think that list would have produced very many kisses.

Questions about strengths and weaknesses are almost the equivalent to meeting a celebrity for me. I honestly love KNOWING and talking about my strengths. I pride myself in being inrapersonal, reflective, and familiar with myself. I love understanding what makes me tick. I love knowing my strengths and weaknesses. I love flourishing in the gifts I've been given and figuring out how to walk this earth with the gifts I lack. But I also get the temptation to always want to focus on what we just can't get right.

I've heard people say it's difficult to love others if you don't know how to love yourself. I think part of learning to love yourself, is by looking at what you're good at. And if you have trouble coming up with a list, the best people to ask about your strengths are those you're closest with. A few years ago I was given an assignment that FORCED me to ask others what it was about me, that made them love me for me. After hearing their answers, I remember being so encouraged and confident to walk in who I am.

One of the gifts I love about me, is my creativity. I LIVE my days for opportunities to use my creativity, whether that's relationally doing something out of the ordinary with or for someone else, crafting all day long, or spending a good chunk of my evening writing out a blog post. I crave those opportunities.

The picture above is a card I conjured up for my brother-and-sister-so-wonderful-in-laws and their soon to be pop'n-out-of-the-oven-baby, Moriah Jane. I took joy in making that card. I rejoice that I've been given the creativity to make something small and temporary like that card, come into fruition for the delight and excitement of others. I think that's the best part of personal strengths, really learning to take joy in them.

Bob Goff says it this way, "I think God speaks something meaningful into our lives and it fills us up and helps us change the world regardless of ourselves and our shortcomings... He hopes we'll start to see ourselves as His beloved rather than think of all the reasons that we aren't."

What are your personal strengths? Are you letting them give life to you so you can give life to others?

Hope your week is filled with more than two pushups!

Stace-Face

P.S. I also read this article by Jen Hatmaker that a lot of my really cool friends have started sharing and I wanted to jump in on the coolness and share it too.

If I were Ben Stiller I would pinch myself to make sure it wasn't a dream that I was Ben Stiller. Then I'd call up Kristen Wigg and ask her if she wants to hang out or get coffee or go sing karaoke with me.If I were Ben Stiller I'd try really hard not to make the Zoolander model face at everyone I stand next to on public elevators. But it would be too fun not to make that face at people. So I would.

If I were Ben Stiller I'd definitely cast Kristen Wigg as the coolest love crush ever in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty... so good job, Ben Stiller, for steal'n my idea!

If I were Ben Stiller four months ago, I'd provide a free pre-showing of Walter Mitty to a ton of high school, middle school, and college teenagers. The kind of teenagers who need inspiration, need a reason to travel, or need to know real life is allowed to have a little risk and adventure (and a little bit of Kristen Wigg's humor too). And half way through that free showing I'd bring in a bunch of FREE Papa Johns cause teenagers can get hungry during movies. And a little bit later I'd bring in a bunch of coffee and Cinnabon for dessert. And if Ellen decided to chip in, maybe we'd take them all to Iceland afterwards.

If I were Ben Stiller, I'd make an alternate ending to Walter Mitty. What if Walter never found the lost negative 25? What if Sean O'Connell meant for there to never be a negative in that spot? What if the very gap between negatives 24 and 26 was the true beauty of Sean's work? What do you see when an empty frame is held up to your face? You see past where the picture would be to the other side. You see the real world beyond the frame. You see life just as beautiful or messy as it is. You see the Quintessential to Life. Sometimes I wish the movie would have been just as good if it would have ended like that.

If I were YOU, in the midst of your busy life this week, I'd make sure you squeezed in a movie night for The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Maybe it'll help you slow down, think, and remember to live.

On a Saturday a few months ago, Brett and I attended a wedding and a funeral.

It's a challenge to describe the beauty and depth of such paradoxical events. Whether you hate God or you love Him, it's awfully hard not to think about Him when death and love are so nearly intertwined in the same day. When I think about that Saturday I think about God and the word "PURPOSE" and how a lot of people in this world are looking for purpose. I think of how ironic it was that we sang the same song, "10,000 Reasons", a few hours apart at the grief-filled ceremony and the love-covenanted one. I think of our aesthetic and comforting need to have  flowers when we're happy and when we're sad.

 The funeral was for our friend Jacob's brother. Brett and I had never met his brother, however, Jacob was in our home group and, in my opinion, you don't just call your HomeGroup your "HomeGroup" because you meet in someone's house every Tuesday. Homegroup is about having people present to say "we care about you and are here for you when you are at the end of your rope or climbing your highest peak (Or just to encourage you and read the Bible on Tuesdays... whatever season we're all in)."

So Brett and I were there for Jacob. The funeral was everything it needed to be. As different neighbors, family members, and mentors talked about Jacob's brother we learned that his story was difficult to take in, and, depending on which way you look at it, tragic. His brother struggled for years to find purpose in life, often warring with two different personalities. We found ourselves crying for his family who fought to love him when they could and prayed for him when fighting wasn't an option anymore. We sang songs and people talked about how deaths like his are hard to understand, but how God's purpose is still valid and fiercely beautiful.

"And on that day when my strength is failing, the end draws near and my time has come. Still my soul will sing your praise unending, 10,000 years and then forevermore."

The wedding was for one of my high school teachers/mentors, Kristen. Kristen is someone who has always said "I don't want to live my version of how I think life should go, I'd rather live Your version, God." Well, she's a human being so she probably hasn't always said that... she's probably really wanted her version a lot of the time, but from my observations, she's always lived her life in a sort of loving surrender that's contagious and admirable. Single was her tune for a long time, but she chose joy in her singleness and desired to get married, she just hadn't found the right person to marry.

"Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes."

When she told me she was dating someone (some "Steve" to be specific) she told me immediately that she knew he was her man. Her main man. She shared how her heart had also fallen for his sweet daughter and how marrying a guy with a daughter wasn't what she'd expected, but she couldn't be more excited about it because God's plan was better than hers. Her wedding was packed with her past and present students, family, and friends, some of which (myself definitely included) were literally jumping out of their seats to watch her exchange her vows and see Steve kiss her. Brett and I apparently sat in the "If you're happy and you know it" student section as they screamed and thunder clapped like they were at a pep-rally when that kiss happened.

"For all your goodness I will keep on singing, 10,000 Reasons that my Heart can Find".

I sat there with tears (for the millionth time that day) as they exited the church, husband and wife. I felt the weight of the funeral and wedding overwhelm me. I've said before that I think weddings are like heaven, because you're surrounded by those you love and cherish most, having such a great time. That day had me thinking of heaven in every bitter and sweet way. My young heart rejoiced at the relief I will know when I find myself in the presence of a loving God some day. Face to face. In a place beyond hurt, violence, and pain. Surrounded by love. How grateful I am in the present though; confident in my purpose: to be loved by God and to love God for the rest of my life. And I really do believe that. And it really gives me overwhelming peace. A peace I've watched others search for their entire lives. A peace that makes the depths of my soul sing, "Bless the Lord O my soul."

"It's going down, I'm yell'n timber, you better move, you better dance." -me to Brett, every day all the time."I'm sorry." -me to Brett, every day all the time.

"Can we just take a few minutes to snuggle before we do [insert activity here]?" -me to Brett, every day all the time.

"Kisses." -me to Brett, every day all the time. This is not me asking him to kiss me, this is me telling him I need a kiss.

"The best thing about marriage is you, Babe." -me to Brett.

"We're gonna go home, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, get in my comfies, then we're gonna watch SPACE JAM!" -Me to Brett on the way home from the coffee shop the other night.

"WHAT!!??? Nooooo..... YEAHHH!!" me to Brett, when he suggested we eat cheddar popcorn while watching Space Jam

"DON'T GOOOOO WASTING YOUR E-MOOO-TION, LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ONNNNN MEEEE." me to Brett, because everybody needs Mamma Mia passionately sung to them in a public parking lot.

Brett and I vowed that only death will part us.

When I really think about that vow for too long my eyes widen and sink back into my skull as if I'm trying to look at our live and marriage in full but can't get far enough back... I wonder how long we have till death parts us.  Some days death seems so close, and some days it seems like a dream, far and fuzzy. I honestly think 'Till death do you part" is supposed to be overwhelming, unexplainable, and fear-inducing... because then it leaves room for the kind of love that's work, the kind of trust that takes time, and the kind of awe that points to God.

On our rainy wedding day, Brett and I covenanted "death in love, not death of love." And how abundantly we believe that we (and those around us) will live if we pursue one another in the ways in which we believe we were created to... never to let a "creeping separateness" as Sheldon Vanauken would call it, slowly come between us as the years go by.

I thought I'd share a few marriage decisions we made before we were married (and a few made since we've been married) in our fight for "death in love".

If life circumstances are permitting, we get into bed at the same time every night. He gets his homework done before bed so he doesn't have to stay up late working on it and I try my best to leave my work at work  so I can be present during this sacred time. So if I'm in bed at ten, he's there too, even if I end up falling asleep while reading next to him, we're there together. To cuddle. To talk. To get on the same page. To read the Harry Potter series out loud. To be still.

We won't call each other out in front of other people. I know how deeply this would hurt Brett if I called him out for doing something wrong, embarrassing, rude, or mean in front of others. Even if Brett or myself is in the wrong, bringing it up in front of others isn't the place. And let me be straight with you: Its tempting to bring it up right then and there, because being married to the person that said something stupid in front of everyone else immediately associates you with the stupid thing they said. You feel responsible. You wonder if everyone else thinks you're okay with that stupid thing they just said. Calling them out, even if we think it would make our spouse learn his or her lesson...would crush them. Pulling Brett aside, going into another room, talking to him about the situation afterwards; those are all ways I can show him respect without deflating his identity. He cares so deeply of what I think of him, and if his friends or colleagues see me put him down or argue with him in front of them, he loses self-esteem and confidence that is important to who he is. I can see the look of joy on his face when we are in front of others and I mention how grateful I am for him or how excited I am about what he's doing in our lives and marriage. This might sound simple, but I can't tell you how often in my lifetime I've observed couples who do this with each other and one of them ends up deflated and hurt. How often I'm tempted to nag Brett or get onto him for saying something I think he shouldn't have said in front of the company we are in. How often he works diligently to not criticize a decision of mine in front of my students or colleagues.

Choosing better, not bitter. My mom taught me this one and I'll forever cherish these words because they are some of the most difficult words to live out. Oftentimes, when expectations are not met, bitterness can creep in, making the heart seep with loathing & regret, sucking life from it's dweller and anyone they surround themselves with. That goes for marriage, friendships, work relationships, and family relationships. Already in my life, and especially in my marriage, I have been dealt cards that make me want to turn bitter towards my circumstances or situation. For short seasons of our marriage I've chosen pity parties and bitterness instead of choosing to positively take steps forward, accepting the hand I've been given. When I choose joy and choose to move forward (not loathing myself or Brett) I am living in the love I covenanted to Brett. When I choose to not regret and not just cope with my circumstances, I am choosing to live freely in the present for the sake of the joy-filled future. We could waste our lives being bitter towards each other. Many people do. We are choosing not to.

No blame or grudges. Pointing fingers at each other or blaming our circumstances on the actions of the other person (even if they did do something wrong or made a mistake) will be a temptation, but not an action. Brett will forgive me. He will offer me patience and grace when I mess up or even walk away from what we value or hold to be truth. He will continue to cheer me on, love me, and protect me as his wife like he vowed he would. And he will move forward with me, even if the consequences of my actions effect him. Blame leads to bitterness.

Date night. It's a mandatory must. Similarly to our going to bed at the same time, date night offers us a sacred time to slowly reflect on our week and ask, "How were you really this week?" or "Is our marriage making the most of this season?". Making DN a habit was easy for us after coming out of a long distance relationship, where busy schedules and intentional time to talk HAD to be scheduled. I need time to express my weekly reflections and I know Brett is unhindered in school work or tasks so he can freely listen and respond. And I care to know not just how Brett analyzed his week, but how he is feeling, which is sometimes hard for him to express without my asking. I love that date night gives us a space to do that. I value not just where his mind and heart are, but where his feelings are in relation to those things. This is a night where we attempt our best to not allow phones. Where we get off campus every now and then or order pizza in without feeling guilty about "being lazy" (because sometimes dates in are more of what we need than dates out). Where I beat Brett at MarioKart... most of the time.

Hospitality and Realness. Open doors, open homes, and open hearts. We desire to head up and initiate such deep and vulnerable community for those we live amongst and work with. That means being real with my students when Brett and I are having a difficult week. It means moving past surface conversations toward heart conversations that reach into joy, pain, and that sort of human authenticity we all secretly crave. It means taking them out to eat to celebrate or let them know that whatever circumstance they are in, we are for them. It's making posters in my apartment while watching Harry Potter. It's reaching out to hold their hand or play with their hair because that's what their mom used to do when they needed to know they were loved. If Brett and I are not doing these things with one another, we often are not doing them for others. We must have these in both our marriage and our community.

Brett and I have been off the grid lately like we do sometimes. Our hearts have been everywhere this February. We've delivered our hands and minds over to books and different creative projects and personally, my excitement for life has increased as I've been diving into the discipline of reading more and more. After reflecting on the past 16 days February has offered me, I've decided that this month has been one of the most difficult and challenging I've had this year... but one of the most rewarding I've had in my lifetime.

I had the best sick day I've ever needed a few weeks ago. I felt awful and chose to snot at home instead of snotting at work. I laid around all day, tired, sneezy, stuffy, and achy. And I read, from morning until night. The first day I've spent alone in a long time. To read was relaxing, peace-giving, thought-provoking, and healing. To look up from my book whenever I wanted to think, rest my eyes, or write something down. It was freeing. I wasn't pressed for time or exhausted after a long day, I was resting. And it was good. I will look back on that day with gratitude.

Woodworks went down last weekend when my dad helped me build a bar table. We repurposed a vintage ironing board my mom bought me a few months ago at a warehouse antique store that's only open on Saturdays and imports products only from Maine. We worked for hours and hours, and my dad was a strategist champ, working to convert the designs I saw in my head to the board. Brett and I still have yet to put it together fully, but I love that my parents, the ones who helped frame hospitality for me, helped me make something that will further Brett and I's endeavor to be hospitable to others. A table. to share with others. To make memories at. *And check out those cool glasses my dad had to remind me to take off before we walked into the hardware store*

We spent hours making this stump look prettier. It was a high maintenanced stump.

We skipped out on the end of the Super Bowl (and apparently didn't miss much) so we could toast champagne to the season finale of Sherlock as well as devour Brett's homemade sopapia Cheesecake. With the cheesecake dough Brett spelled out "Happy B-day" and I almost cried when he took it out of the oven. Every Superbowl sunday I celebrate the fact that I'm not searching for anything in this life to satisfy me. I celebrate that I'm not trying to save myself from fears or death. I celebrate that I'm not trying to prove to everyone or myself how capable I am. I celebrate that God found me, a girl who didn't have anything right, and that He gave me everything I needed- Jesus. We celebrated together, how wonderfully my life has been changed.

Brett and I dressed up for date nights out and dressed [sweats and t-shirts] down for date nights in. We miscommunicated and were frustrated with each other and I believed a lot of lies about myself and our marriage that God gently used Brett to combat. I walked in a lot of shame (and am often tempted to still), believing that I am not a good enough wife for Brett and that he is disappointed in what he got. I watched his tears fall as he watched his Bride shut down and turn off every time he assured me I was his prize and given to him by grace. I asked him if it frustrated him when he spoke truth to me and I chose not to believe it or trust it and he answered that it broke him. We hugged and talked for hours after I asked him to forgive me for being selfish and unbelieving and I remember feeling relief accepting his grace in my weakness. My self-tormented pity parties are hard work and defeating, but how humbling this marriage deal has been for me.

We took a look at where we are and how much we love what is going on around us and said thank you. For the timing. The people. The opportunities. The dreams already made true for us because we live in a dorm and love on college students. Thank you.

We went to our friend, Taryn's wedding and I was reminded of how grateful I was that she came to our wedding. She gave us a journal to write to each other in. "To write in and leave for the other to find". And we have done that many times since we've been married. Encouraging things. Things that are hard to say. Reminders. Prayers for the other person. Gratitude for them being in our life. This is a picture of her table decorations. They were gorgeous, and I am excited for the marriage adventure she's embarked on. We might have given her and her husband a journal to return the beautiful gesture.

Brett got accepted into a week long intensive Oxford program and we got even more excited about our Europe trip this summer. England, Amsterdam, places TBD... I can't wait.

I'm praying these words a lot lately, "And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved." Acts 2:47

Our lives have been so full. There are so many things I haven't mentioned that have made my heart soar over the past week or two, things that cannot be made public yet but are sweet, good, and a joy to walk through. It's a Sunday night, I'm tired and grateful to reflect on this month, this season, and this beautiful Presence ever before me.

"Love is holding hands, brushing teeth." -Brett Stine, brushing our teeth before bed, while holding hands.

"What's wrongggggg?" -Brett Stine, a few minutes before studying for his Latin quiz, chasing me around the house with an open bottle of whipped cream in his hand.

"I'm sorry." -Brett Stine, often.

"I like how you put on skirts in the morning ....and I really like them ...and then I think it's funny when you change into jeans later." -Brett Stine; on those 'I feel like wearing a skirt" days, but realize later it actually feels more like a "I can only handle jeans today" days.

"Remember how you said you can't remember what life was like before we got married? Well, I can't remember what life was like before we started eating six can soup." -Brett Stine, after finishing his 3rd bowl of six can soup in a span of two days.

For me, coffee really hasn't ever been about the drink, it's always been about the shop. I can hear coffee gurus in Denton mourning as they read that sentence. "But Stacie, it IS about the perfect cup. Without the perfect cup you have NOTHING." Well, On a trip to Oregon 13 years ago I discovered my own personal truth about coffee.That Oregon trip is memorable, really, for lots of reasons... I went camping with my cousins, crossed into Washington and drove through snow covered mountains, and I went to the Pacific Coast for the first time. I also pooped on a trail next to a waterfall that was famous for being in Last of the Mohicans (and yeah, I really did poop ON the trail... while my dad tried to cover me up with his trusty trail map while other tourists giggled as they hiked by... it was horrifying considering how old I was. Embarrassing moments numbero uno for sure. Lets talk about coffee some more).

On that trip, we ventured into a  small Oregon-o-tized brick town to do some antiquing. We'd been window shopping for awhile when my mom stopped us with a dire excuse that she couldn't go any further without a cup of coffee. You know how middle aged mom's are on vacation. They need that coffee or else vacation starts getting stale real fast. So like a woman who needs her coffee... she found a coffee shop within five minutes.

And that's when it all happened. We walked through the doorway and I found myself. I looked around and thought, This space must have been created for people just like me. Big glass windows lit the room with natural light. There was an enticing loft above the entrance that had a ladder leading up to it. I imagined that baristas would go up there to read, nap, and watch people. Every corner and wall was couch and comfy chair infested (just the way a living room should be) with book shelves and lamps shoved in wherever they would fit. Quiet, calming and warm. Inviting. And spacious. A resting stop. A safe place. A place I'd show up to dream at every day if only I lived there. I walked to the back of the shop and found a door leading to a porch outside, crammed tight with chairs and tables. We sat on the porch while my mom drank her coffee. To top it all off, every shop and building on that little street backed right up to a rushing river. We watched that river flow right below us for awhile as she sipped, I daydreamed, and sun rays lit up our faces. Beautiful and peaceful was this thing they call a coffee shop.

At that very moment my dreams, hopes, and desires started smelling like coffee.

I was eleven years old when I walked into that coffee shop for the first time. And from that day to this day, it's my dream to own a place of wonder like that (that maybe serves a not so crappy cup of coffee)-- where others can come in and rest. Where the sojourner can dream and be filled. Where quiet can be rediscovered and consumed. Where hearts can fall in love or sit quietly and mourn. Where light can give life and restore.

Honestly, I may never get to own a coffee shop, but I do hope that the home I live in or the office I work out of can be what that coffee shop was for me in the 30 minutes I spent there. I hope to be a person that can physically and relationally create space for others to rest and dream. A person who can value giving others space that is life-giving to them. So whether the gourmet, crappy, or booshie coffee happens or not, I hope I'll always be and embody... the life-giving, rest-giving, and dream-growing shop.

What is your dream? What is your coffee shop?