unlike any other.

It's easy to get caught-up in the masses. To think that you are just like everyone else out there. We get caught-up in the latest fashions, and the latest thinking, and keeping up with the Jones'. All most of us have ever really wanted, from the time we were in grade school, was to be like the rest. To fit in. To be liked. And at middle age, most of us still go to great lengths to be like everyone else. Skinny jeans, long sweater, cute boots, long hair with just the perfect length bangs. Check! We fit in! Or at least we look like we fit in. But I would venture to guess that there is a lot of suppression of our real self in those attempts. And underneath that suppression, a lot of sadness.

We will likely always live in a world where conforming to the masses is far more acceptable than making our own statement.

But I sincerely hope you know you are unlike any other.

Yes, You. 

The sound and tone of your voice, your brain, your fingerprints, and irises are nothing like your mom or dad's, your child's, or your best friend's. They are not like your spouse's, or your child's teacher, or your favorite politician's or the pastor of your church. So while you may nod your head in agreement with those around you, please know that you are not them. And they are not you. 

No matter how much you try to fit in among the masses, you will never fit in.

And that is such a beautiful thing. 

Let your unique voice be heard. Don't be afraid to brush-up against the masses and say something different. Do not let your overwhelming desire to fit in, override the pieces of you that make you unlike any other. God did not fearfully and wonderfully make you just to watch you float adrift on the current of popular style, opinion and thinking. He made you unlike any other. Cherish that. Guard it with your heart. Let it shine. Think for yourself, not for the masses.

You get this one life; this one version of you.

Stop trying to be like everyone else, and instead - be unlike any other.

holding on & letting go.

I noticed these little helicopters were about the only thing left on the tree after a big wind and rain storm Thursday night. They seemed to be holding-on with all their might as the breeze tossed them around. The tree is pretty much bare except for a few leaves and helicopters still holding-on. I wonder why they hold-on so long? How do they know when it's time to let-go?

Anyone who's known me for any length of time knows that I hold on to things. My office is a perfect, literal example. Books, CDs, cards from years ago, photos, trinkets and treasures from my childhood on up to my college years and first few jobs. In fact, while up in my office looking for a CD for Max, I came across an email I had printed out from May of 2004, before leaving that job to move down here and start my new, married life. It was from a co-worker, thanking me for doing such a great job at my job. And today, as I read it seven years later, it made me smile. It made me feel really good. And I briefly thought, I can't throw this away! You don't get that kind of praise as a stay at home mom. Not even close.

Life is a lot about holding-on and letting-go. Holding-on to hurts feelings, expectations of myself and others. Holding-on to disappointments and sadness and worry. Holding-on to anxieties about the my future, my son's future, my parents' future. Holding-on to "stuff" - we all have so much "stuff" in our lives. Do we really need it all? All those books we've read and we know we will never read again. All those CDs we've put on our iPod. All those cards from loved ones. Why do we keep it? What are we really holding-on to by holding-on to all of that "stuff" - the "stuff" we can touch and the "stuff" that touches our heart and soul. Unfulfilled dreams? Pieces of our younger days? Memories of when times seemed simpler? All of this holding-on wears me so far down, that you'd think I'd just fall to the ground in pieces. And some days I do - or at least I feel like I'd like to, but I can't. I'm a mom. I have a small child. I have to be the responsible one now.

And so I guess I'll let-go of what I can. The things that feel safe to let-go of. And at the same time I'll likely hold-on to a lot of things. The things that keep me sane. The things that remind me of that happy-go-lucky girl I used to be.

And that note from that co-worker? I pinned it up on the cork board in my office. It made me smile; it was just as if he was standing before me telling me what a great job I'm doing now.

{Some things really are worth holding on to.}

gratitude: peace

Fluffy fog, a little sunlight, a road that seems to slowly disappear...

Life is a little like that road in the fog. We know the road is there for us to take, but we can only see a few steps in front of us at any given time. A little frightening at times? You bet. Will the road suddenly veer off to the right? Take a nose dive downhill? Or will we be faced with a gigantic hill to climb?... Maybe it's better that we don't see to much of the road ahead after all.

"Walk peacefully with Me through this day. You are wondering how you will cope with all that is expected of you. You must traverse this day like any other: one step at a time. ...When you don't know what to do, wait while I open the way before you. Trust that I know what I'm doing, and be ready to follow My lead. I will give strength to you, and I will bless you with Peace."

As I drove up the hill into the fog, alone in the car in complete silence, I felt a moment of Peace. I knew that I just had to keep on driving. Just keep moving. Just keep looking ahead, even if the way isn't always clear. Just keep taking one step after another. Just trust that the journey will lead you to just where you were meant to be. And enjoy the moments of Peace along the way.

it's like you never left.

(Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams in the background) 

It's amazing what some time away from life-as-you-know-it can do for you. I had ten days away from cleaning and cooking and laundry and arguing and entertaining and nagging. And I had ten days with wonderful friends and family and good conversations and time to read and shop and think and feel some peace in my life. Much needed time to think and feel peace and quiet. Much needed time away. 'Cause while it may look like this momma/wife has it all together, I so don't.



I have a ton of photos to go through and delete a bunch and edit a few and post a few.
I have a ton of words and blog posts running circles in my head.
I have a house that needs a thorough cleaning after being gone for ten days.
And laundry and ironing.
And a grocery list to write.
And meals to plan.
Funny how all you leave behind on vacation waits patiently for our return.

And just like that, it's like you never left.

some pretty.

It's been a week.
A cold. A cough. Pink eye. Ear infection.
A sad boy. A grumpy boy. A boy just trying to deal with all this yucky stuff.
Two trips to two different doctors - one for me, one for Max.
Three trips to the pharmacy.
Coming home to find dog pee on the carpet, yet again....

It's also been a good week.
An early birthday present from my mom and dad.
Two very enjoyable days with six other aspiring photographers and one amazing teacher.


I needed some more pretty in my life this week. So I bought this lovely pink bouquet at the store the other day, while picking up a second prescription for Max.

{I will tell more about the photography class next week.}

details.

Details create the big picture.~ Sanford I. Weill

Dad had just mowed and edged the lawn. After watching for awhile, Max ran inside and grabbed his scissors. (And I grabbed my camera.) Max wanted to help. He was going to help edge the lawn with those little kid scissors. Of course it would take him forever, clipping a few pieces at a time, but he didn't care. He was focused on those two or three blades of grass he could clip at once. He was focused on the details. It was easy enough for daddy to cut large rows of lawn with a passing of the mower. A lot of grass clipped, quickly. While daddy was focused on the big picture, Max was concerned with the details. He didn't think anything of his small scissors versus the large amount of grass to clip. He didn't hesitate. (Ok, well his clipping didn't last very long.)

That picture has me thinking of the details. It's so easy to let the day pass working on the big picture - cleaning the house, preparing meals, caring for pets, paying bills, returning emails and phone calls. The big stuff that needs to be done, the stuff that keeps us going. But what about the details of the day? Holding hands, the extra story read at bedtime, the phone call to parents to really talk and listen, letting kids help with dinner even though it creates a big mess. Those are the details that create the stories in our lives. The story would be pretty boring if we left out the details, right? Woke-up, ate, went to school/work, had lunch, played/worked some more, ate dinner, went to bed.



Life is in the details - those details are the big picture.
You create the details in your big picture.
What will your details be?

As a journalist, the details always tell the story. ~ James McBride

balance.

Max got a new (used) bike this past weekend. It does not yet have training wheels, but he wanted to go for a ride anyway. I know it will be awhile before he can ride his bike without training wheels. He will need to learn to balance and to keep-up his momentum to assist with that balance.

I've been struggling with balance lately.

Balancing being a mom, being a wife, being just me.

I spend most of my time being mom and balancing the tasks of everyday life.

I have momentum. Doing laundry, cleaning, cooking, washing dishes, playing with Max, driving around here and there. And all the while I'm doing these things, the "me" (the selfish) part of myself keeps whispering in my ear about all the things that I want to do - read, catch-up on blogs, take photos, edit photos, blog, watch TV shows, try to exercise, lounge around on the couch, go out with friend. I could go on and on...

When my husband comes home, and I am wife again. Trying to have some moments with my husband in the midst of being mom and me. Conversations are short and interrupted by a little person who needs me to switch into mom mode. (I have yet to get used to not being able to have regular, uninterrupted conversations with the other adults in my life while my son is around. But that's another post, for another time.)

Mom, wife, me...it's quite the mix. A constant, internal struggle for balance.

Sometimes I need someone to hold on to me.

And I need to remember that there are people in my life who will help me with that balance, if I just ask.

Someone is always there watching over me.

I may stumble in my attempt to maintain balance in my life.

But I will always get-up and keep going.

Max will start-off with training wheels. But eventually, when he's had enough practice, the training wheels will come off and he will ride.

I'm sending you my compassion for the times you fall down, and my admiration for the times you get up, and my excitement for the times you run. It has probably become clear to you by now that the falling down isn't a shameful thing to be cursed, but rather is an instrumental part of the learning process that is teaching you marvelous secrets about getting back up and running.

~ Robert Hass