Flourish courtney pooler

Acting Ugly and Real Beauty

2011-03-25T16:40:00.000-07:00

My daughter is inarguably beautiful. This is not just parental pride speaking here, we have been stopped by talent scouts since she was a baby, asking if she would be interested in acting or modeling. (To which we gave a polite but emphatic no). They compared her to the likes of Ally and AJ, and people have described her as a younger Jessica Alba. I actually think she's more like Amanda Seyfried. The poofy lips, the perfect button nose, the big smile and huge doe eyes...you know, that type of look.

My daughter is ten. She is tall and has legs up to her ears. She has lips that (no exaggeration) put Angelina Jolie's to shame. She has huge ice blue-green eyes and high cheekbones.Thick light brown hair that bleaches out perfect blonde streaks in the summer. Her skin is olive toned, and she turns into a cocoa-bean in the sun, with rosy pink cheeks. Her father and I honestly cringe, because we fear so much for a little girl that lives in this world that we do, and pretty girls like that aren't always just noticed, but preyed upon. I know, I know I'm going on ad-nauseum about the superficiality of my daughter's looks. But there is a deeper reason, bear with me.

All of this to say, however, that the most beautiful thing about my daughter, is her heart. She has the sweetest, gentlest spirit. She is all heart. There is nothing that doesn't come from her heart. Ever since she was little, she's heard remarks about how cute she is, to the point that by age 3, I was constantly repeating, "It doesn't matter what's on the outside, baby, it only matters what's inside your heart." I would make her repeat it back to me. And she would. It became our mantra.

Fast forward 7 years. Welcome tween years. Welcome onset of hormones. Welcome all manner of stress about what this indicates and precedes. She's 10. And oh, yeah, the other most beautiful thing about my daughter? She has Asperger's Syndrome. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it is under the umbrella of the Autism Spectrum. They say that Bill Gates has it, that Albert Einstien had it, the list goes on and on, but basically, many of the greatest minds to have ever existed have Asperger's in common. And my girl is brilliant. She was so articulte and such a young age, people marveled. She reads and does math at well above her grade average. Or the grade above hers. Or the grade above that.

Now throw in the fact that she has no filter, she has the social grace of an elephant, add in impulse control issues, a seizure disorder, and sensory issues and it makes her a very, very complicated creature. And yes, the social gap has grown between she and her peers over the years. She is not included in the reindeer games, so to speak. But everyone at her school knows how precious and kind and innocent she is. Students and faculty alike have a soft spot for my daughter, in spite of her often odd and alarming ways. So imagine my surprise when, in tears over her recent appearance of preteen spots of acne on her forehead she says to me, choking down her sobs, this statement: "And there is this girl, she is really pretty, and everyone thinks so, and she is very popular, Mom, and I was in the bathroom at the same time as her one day, and she told me I was UGLY! And I know it's probably because of these things on my forehead." (Insert loud, abrupt vinyl record scratch here) EXCUSE ME, WHAT?!?

Ohh, I was mad. Mad is not a word that actually describes it, but I'll just use mad for lack of a better word that will not offend my readers. Now, I was not mad in the way that a 'mama bear' gets personally offended on behalf of their child. (Surprising to me, too...) I was abhorred that any, ANY child in any proximity to my daughter would call her ugly, because, well... because she's just not. I mean, any human with two eyes and half a brain cel would never describe her as mildly unattractive, let alone ugly. And even if she were disfigured (which is beautiful in it's own right, but make no mistake in looking at this through the eyes of a child, I do know that the reality is that children are especially superficial). Even so, even if she were ugly by the world's standards there is no one, and I mean no one in their right mind who even breathes the same air as my girl, that does not sense her tender, sweet heart. And why, why would anyone have the heart to tell her that she's ugly of all things?!

Sure if they watched her have a meltdown, they would think she's weird. I can call a spade a spade, and sometimes she acts downright odd, and I don't blame her peers for noticing, and even for their lack of involvement or desire to hang out with her. They're kids. She's A-typical, it's par for the course in Asperger-Land, I don't begrudge kids for being kids. But ugly? Come. On.

Now, believe-you-me, I wanted to find out that girl's name and find out who her (horrible) parents were, and give a good talking-to to both of them, and explain that there is just no excuse for cruelty. (And what kind of parent doesn't run into the insensitive comment of a young child, that doesn't nip.that.baloney.in.the.bud. ??? It's up to the parents to let their kids know it's unacceptable! Okay. I'm done. Ahem. ) I even asked my lovely girl what the girl's name was, and she said "I don't remember, I just know who she is." And yessss, I'll admit it, I did ask if she would be able to pick her out in a lineup. But then I gathered my wits.

The thing that shocked me so much, the question that felt like a sucker-punch about the whole interaction my daughter went through was this: "What kind of person tells someone who is outwardly beautiful, and inwardly sweet and tender, that they're ugly?" And the only answer I could come up with, is simply this: Someone who is ugly inside.

So I sat my girl down and I said, "You listen to me. You are beautiful inside and out. But if she EVER says that to you again, or if ANYONE ever tells you that you're ugly again, you need to say: ' There is nothing uglier than being mean'. Do you hear me? Now repeat it back to me babe." And she did. And I asked her "If anyone ever tells you you're ugly again, what are you going to say?" And she said "Nothing is uglier than being mean." I hugged the stuffing out of her, wiped those tears, and told her good job, that it's the truth, and she could say it without being mean back, which is the epitome of being beautiful. Speaking the truth, without making yourself ugly on the inside to say it.

Sometimes there is nothing you can do about other people and the way they choose to act, think and behave. You can tell them any number of things, and it doesn't change the condition of their heart. Even a person who is acting ugly can be put in their place, and they'll just continue thinking ugly thoughts about you for giving them the what-for. And by all means, yes, pray that they will be able to accept love. Because I really believe that people don't just act ugly for no reason. Someone spattered their ugly on them at some point, and it infected them and they were never shown how to end the cycle, or how good ending that cycle can be. (And make no mistake, spattering ugly can be as unintentional as modeling unforgiveness or judgement toward others and our children learn it as innocent bystanders.)

I bring this up just to remind myself, and to remind all of us: There is nothing uglier than being mean. We need to look at the insides of people. And you can't look at the insides of people from a distance. It requires rolling up your sleeves and being in relationship, at close proximity, over time. And yes, we need to look at our own insides. Instead of eating better, or working out, or cutting back our cholesterol...why not purge our judgement of others? Unforgiveness? Bitterness? Anger? Labeling? Negativity? Closed-mindedness? Instead of a tray full of vitamins or green phyto-nutrients, why not supplement our thoughts and actions toward others with Humility? Grace? Acceptance? Hope? "The Lord doesn't see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7

FAVE 2010 Beauty Picks

2010-12-30T16:57:00.000-08:00

I promised you lighter fare for your prep for your big New Year's Eve, and deliver I have!

The following are products I love love love and all the reasons why! Maybe I'm breaking makeup artistry code here, but my philosophy is if I hog all the great secrets to myself, I'm not honoring the women I want to feel beautiful year-round, whether in my hands, or in their own. If I claim I care about making YOU feel special, then that can't just count for when you're in my chair.

Bobbi Brown blush in the color Pale Pink. I know, I know, it looks Barbie-Bubblegum Pink. People freak out allll the time when I pull this out, because they have 80's nightmare flashbacks, but here's my secret: It makes you look fresh, young, and it's like a facelift. No matter what your coloring, this color works on everyone. It's amazing. If you're young, it just highlights your eyes and makes you look fresh faced. For my mothers-of-the-bride, it makes them look youthful, and it takes years off their face. It never fails!

Next, Stila Smudge Pots. I like it in black. This works even for the anti-makeup / anti- smoky eye person, because you can take it on the end of your brush, and fill in the spaces between your lashes, and it makes you look like you have this fantabulous thick lash line, but as if you just threw on your mascara, and that's all you need. That's right. You will look like the girl who only needs mascara, and looks stunning. (You know, those girls I want to trip, just so they can stop looking so perfect. Just kidding, I'd never trip anyone. I'd just pray that they get a zit, you know, to bring them back to reality from perfection-land.)Ahem. Moving on! If you like a smoky eye, or a thick lash line... there is nothing that works better... it's like a creme gel that glides on, and stays like a champ through sweat, a long day of work, a huge event... it's ridiculous. The one drawback is this: it will dry up eventually. You have to really fasten the top well, and take good care of it. But it's worth the extra effort.

MAC concealer... it's the Studio Finish spf 15. I like it best for an under eye concealer, but I also use it to touch up spots of concern around the face. Key note: blend, blend, blend. It is creamy and easy to do so. Next, and more importantly, even some of the people at the counter will try to give you what they deem to be your 'match' for your skin tone... I have had them give me the wrong advice. Soooo annoying. I am going to arm you with 3 rules to memorize and arm you when you go into the concealer-buying territory: 1) When you put it on your skin (try the back of your hand, live product/aka the stuff they have out to sample is terribly dirty, so the back of your hand is a safe bet) it should melt right into the skin, or be an almost perfect match. 2) If you must choose to go a slight shade lighter or darker, I say darker. The last thing you want to do is look like you kept your goggles on in the tanning bed for too long. That has a way of making you look more tired or aged than if you are a little slight bit darker. And by darker, please, use your discretion, I don't want to be blamed for any racoon impersonations. 3) Steer yellow. A more yellow undertone of concealer will tend to cancel out the blue under your eye, and it looks more natural covering a more red inconsistency on your face.

Next: She Laq by Benefit. Sob your guts out. Go run a marathon. If you swipe Shelaq on your makeup before hand, it won't go anywhere. It is a bride's best friend. You're welcome. (Memo: make sure it dries before you open your eyes, or all your work will fold in on itself.) Again, you're welcome. (I'm for sure being ex-communicated from the artists of the industry for this one).

MAC Plushglass lip gloss in the color Bountiful. It looks great by itself, or it is a great highlighter (makes your lips look plumper) over a lipcolor or a lip liner which has been blended. Again, it's a pinky-pink, but don't let that scare you. It's more sheer than you think.

Well, that's all I can reveal for now! But if you have questions, feel free to ask and post them here, in the comments, below.

Happy New Year! Here's to a much better 2011...I'm looking forward to entering a whole new decade!

xo-c.

A Difficult New Years Question...

2010-12-30T16:25:00.000-08:00

So I asked you last week, "What if you changed one thing a day, for 180 days, would you make a 180 in your life?" A similiar concept was brought up by one of my faaaavorite Christian authors and speakers, the brilliant-hearted Beth Moore.

Through her amazing blog, she asked us what would be our prayer, for one thing for 2011 to allow us to live a more victorious year. What would be the one thing you would pray for, for a more victorious 2011? WHAT A QUESTION!

My prayer was pathetic. She asked us not to get self-loathing, which I wasn't, until I posted and read it. But for accountability's sake, I'll put it here. Augh. Really. If you want to just leave now, and check out all of Beth's amazing resources that I linked (above), feel free.

This is really humbling. But whether it was me doing an 'Animal' impression (from The Muppet Show, think crazy red animal playing drums and then smiling at the end of his drum rant) when I was 10 (okay, I did it on demand until 13, let's be honest) or performing ridiculous re-enactments of Mary Catherine Gallager skits from SNL for Young Life club at the age of 20-something, or even now when I pull out the running man shamelessly in public just to amuse my friends.... I know that making a fool of myself is not a stretch. But revealing a desperate plea to my Jesus for all to read is a little more frightening.

We'll see how I do...better yet, we'll see what God does. Here goes:

Prayer for 2011:

Lord, help me to… no. Don’t just help me. Give me supernatural healing in my heart through the power of the Holy Spirit, to be able to let go of the things I need to let go of, and keep faith for the things You want me to persevere for. You know my situations, you know the truth of every detail. I don’t understand the whys or hows, so please, be my heart, my arms, my legs, my mind, my soul…and help me move toward what it is You want me to keep hold of, and help me move away from what You do not have planned for my time here on earth. It is hard for me to know what is the working of the enemy, and what you have allowed to happen for your ultimate purpose. I beg you, I can’t keep hurting like this.

love, me

Keep tuned in tomorrow, for lighter fare. I reveal my favorite 2010 Beauty Picks which will be enjoyed by my hair and makeup/special events fans. :) Tune in tomorrow for my 2010 wrap-up!

180 degree turns, 360 degree turns

2010-12-24T15:51:00.000-08:00

I had someone say to me once "Courtney, you don't have to take me all around the world to sit next to you." Okay, fiiine. So I can overstate my case, I get it.

So in honor of that constructive tidbit I will say this as clearly and concisely as humanly possible (taking into account that God created me to be a passionate, wordy, emphatic speaker and writer). In honor of my best friend who always tells me the things that challenge me and make me a better person.... I will state this Christmas Eve epiphany as briefly as I can.

And it's inspired by the very concept that was spoken to me:

"You don't need to take me around the entire world to let me sit next to you."

That would be a 360 degree turn, of sorts. Correct?

Funny, there are 365 days in a year.

That means that if you took one turn or small change only 360 days of the year (which gives you 5 days off to be completely stagnant!) you could go back to that place where you could sit next to me. :)

And for those who subscribe to the belief that a 180 degree turn, an about-face, is the better turn to make, so that you end up in a totally different place... well then, great news for you: It will only take you 180 days of the year to end up there. Just one little change, growth or step a day, for only 180 days.

Not so difficult when you think of it that way.

The 19th was exactly 5 days before today, the 24th, Christmas Eve. That gave 5 days to be stuck. To be frozen in place. There was 360 more days to make a little change, a little forgiveness, a little love. 360 days to make a little difference, to speak a little more truth, get a little more help, shine a little more light, restore a little more.... and right now, on this very day, this very evening (!) you could be sitting in a whole different place than you were a year ago.

Or, you could be sitting right next to the one you wanted to sit next to.

No need to go all the way around the world just to sit next to me. Right?

***As you enter this Christmas Eve, as you begin this new year... what kind of a turn will you make each day? So that this time next year, you are just where you want to be?

"What you practice for today is what you hope for, for tomorrow."

A Year Ago Today....

2010-12-19T15:32:00.000-08:00

This Holiday Season, my hope for each of you, is that you allow truth to come into your hearts and lives.

Whatever gifts you give, whatever gifts you receive, may none of them be as precious to you as a Truth that comes from Above.

Whatever religion you subscribe to, let your heart feel the truth of what cannot be denied around you. It is in the snow that gathers on each individual branch of a tree, the breath of a baby, the sigh of a loved one, the sun that breaks through the clouds.... creation demands evidence of a Creator.

May you each have a moment, a morsel of truth that hits your heart and soul and resonates with you and leaves you devastated with the truth of yourself. That is my Christmas wish for you.

I share more about this hope in my blog. It's way more interesting than this little blurb. Go ahead, click on the the word blog... it's how I'm training you to go read my other blog! :)

xo-c.

Be Careful What You Wish For....

2010-11-07T19:27:00.000-08:00

Be even more careful what you pray for. Consider yourself warned. I'm not kidding you, I thought I learned my lesson as I lay on the floor face down in 1998 in San Jose, asking God to make me more like Him, no matter what the cost. When a year and a half later, He asked me to be like Him in perseverance, faith and love, the Refiner's fire was much too hot and I bailed. I did have the unpleasant conversation with myself even at that time that went, "Well, honey, you prayed to be more like Jesus. He did get hung on a cross, you know. You asked to die a horrible death, essentially. You prayed for it. And you got it, girl. Have fun with that..."

But no, no, even though I set out to make sure that I never asked God for anything ever again (good, bad or otherwise) and I stuck to my guns pretty well (6 stubborn years to be exact), here I was, 9 years later, back at it again.

There is a song. Oh, Lordy, is there a song. (Stick with me here as I unpack this for you, it will all tie together in about two paragraphs) Let me just tell you this right now: There is a song for every mood, thought, and feeling I have. I have a soundtrack running to my life in my head, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I hear a song I love, and I think of what scene in my life I would have it play to. (It's a sickness, really. Just know that I am aware of it.) But at any rate: there is a song. It is by Britt Nicole, it's called Set the World on Fire, and as if I did not learn my lesson back in 1998, I was back at it again! Just crying out from the depths of my soul that THIS song is my theme song. It is the cry of my heart. It is what I want for my life. Oh, my gosh, I prayed fervently to the Lord every word of that song. And wouldn't you just know it, it wasn't even a month later that everything in my life that didn't support that prayer started to fray at the edges.

Ohhh, but see, I'm a creative girl, and so I drew upon my mother's Martha Stewart-instilled craftiness, and I got my knitting needles of 'perseverance' and 'faith' (because after all, isn't that what I didn't have enough of before? The last time I failed a test of character?) and I just picked up those frayed threads and started knitting like a madwoman. And madwoman I became. I mean, when you have the God of the universe unraveling the things in your life that you have used to wrap yourself in that are not from Him, and that are not helping you fulfill His purpose for your life, and you're trying to knit them back together? Not even Martha can outknit a divine unraveling. Fingers of fury be damned, it ain't gonna stay together. And it didn't. And I didn't. And it all fell apart.

But see, that wasn't enough for me, I still tried to wrap my heart up in it, silly girl that I am. Have you ever taken a crocheted or knitted blanket, unraveled it, and then tried to sleep under it, hoping that the unbound threads would still keep you warm? Oh, I did, metaphorically speaking. I don't recommend it, in a physical, emotional or spiritual sense. It really is a ridiculously cold and uncomfortable endeavor.

But really, truly, this is my point: be careful what you wish for. I wished for (prayed for) my life to emulate the lyrics of a song. So that you can understand what it is I longed for, here they are:

I wanna set the world on fire
Until it's burning bright for You
It's everything that I desire
Can I be the one You use?
I am small
But You, You are big enough
I am weak
But You are strong enough to
Take my dreams
Come and give them wings
Lord with You, there's nothing I cannot do
Nothing I cannot do
I want to feed the hungry children
And reach across the farthest land
And tell the broken there is healing
And mercy in the Father's hands
I am small but
You are big enough
I am weak but
You are strong enough to
Take my dreams
Come and give them wings
Lord with You
There's nothing I cannot do
Take my dreams come and give them wings
My hands, My feet,
My everything
My life, My love,
Lord use me
I wanna set the world on fire yeah
Take my dreams
Come and give them wings
'Cause Lord with You, there's nothing I cannot do
Nothing I cannot do
I'm gonna set the world on fire
Set the world on fire

Okay, now do you understand? I mean, seriously. Did I not invite this? Nay, did I not beg for this from the Almighty God who has pursued me relentlessly? I'm sure He was like "Come'on boys, she's ready to go! She asked for it this time! Giddy'up!" I mean, send in the troops, she's begging for it! GI Jane wants out, ring the bell. I can't blame Him. I asked for it. And he jumped at the chance to rescue me from myself. He was just waiting for an invitation.

Granted, He took things I didn't want to relinquish. Things I still love and don't understand fully why they had to be ripped from my clenched fingers. Maybe that is what deathgrip means. It's killing you to keep a hold of them. It's death to keep your grip on them. You fear without those things, you will die without them. And isn't that creating a false god? No matter how good those things are... no matter how reinforced those idols are by our culture, our society, our family and friends, even our churches... if they are life and death to us before God Almighty, are they not false idols? Do we not have a jealous God, who says that we are to put no other gods before Him? Even if those gods are our children, our spouses, our ministries, our friends, our heroes, our jobs, our government, our ______? Fill in the blank for yourself.

I would ask you to share what your thing is that is your false idol/god, but I know if you're anything like me, if there really is one, you won't share it. Either because you are so cloaked in darkness and denial, or because you are hoping you can skim by and 'bulk up' in other areas of your relationship with God so that it'll 'even out'. Bwahahahaha. Good luck with that, let me know how that works out for you. (Because I've done both, and I'll give away the end: it doesn't turn out pretty.)

But, my guess is that if you never (truly) really intended to be used by God, and He knows he can't use you much because your heart isn't (truly) open to it, then you'll skim by just fine. And I think He'll let you go. (Not that it doesn't break His heart to do so, but He knows everything, and He isn't going to beat His head against a wall, especially a wall He knows you won't move) Because hey, forced love and submission isn't really either true love or true submission, which we all know. Rude? Brutal? Maybe. Sorry? Notsomuch. Listen, I stand in no judgement or condemnation, because Lord knows I've outsinned you all. In fact, forget the term sin, if you are an atheist or agnostic I'm pretty sure I've trumped you. Rest assured, sinner or saint, you ain't got nothin' on this girl.

All of this being said, it's been a blessing. Lord knows, now, I consider it to have been pure joy. And I am surely not on the other side of it quite yet. But I am also not in the bowels of it, either. It has been a pure joy to have my Bridegroom love me enough to jump at the chance to say "Yes! Yes, I will take your dreams and give them wings. Yes, you're right. With me, there is nothing you cannot do. However, yes, I will take your love from you, and it will leave you broken hearted. I will take your hands, your feet. You will not be able to grasp for anything but Me, nor will you be able to walk away from the destruction I will allow into your life, you will only survive if you allow Me to carry you out of the wreckage. Take your life? Gladly. And by taking the life you have constructed for yourself from you, I will be able to use you. I will take your everything from you. Everything that you hold dear, I will take it from you, and relinquish all that you have held onto more dearly than onto me. This will make you weak, so that I can be strong through you eventually. And then I will come and take your dreams, and give them wings. Then you will see that there is nothing I cannot do. Then I will use you."

Be careful what you wish for. Be even more cautious what you pray for. But be afraid of what you will not wish or pray for, because you care more about losing that, than by being used by a loving Savior who will never take from you what He is not going to lavish onto you a million times more graciously than you ever imagined possible for your life. I don't regret praying those lyrics to that song to my Jesus. Because now, more than ever, I am closer to seeing that prayer realized.

"Whoever tries to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will preserve it." Luke 17:33

love in a cherry field

2010-07-01T11:52:00.000-07:00

I had the distinct priveledge of working with Jen Campbell, of Green Wedding Shoes, the famous wedding blog and website. She is sweet as can be, and her husband is adoring and attentive. As we sat in her dining area, chatting and doing hair and makeup, Temper Trap played at just the right volume as it filled the air. It was like the perfect soundtrack to the most enjoyable time for me. What an exciting honor to be doing the hair and makeup of someone who is such a success in connecting brides with all things creative, lovely, unique and special for their wedding day. She's brilliant in what she's done, and how she's done it, and I was in 7th heaven. The music, doing something I love, with someone so genuine and enjoyable....how. blessed. I. am. in. those. moments! This is straight from her blog, but I wanted to share it with you, here. The AMAZING photography is courtesy of EP love If you have any questions about the hair or makeup, or what I used, leave a comment and I'll let you know!

Guest Blogging for the lovely Wiley Valentine....

2010-06-18T00:10:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well, I have been given an honor amongst honors! I was asked by Wiley Valentine to guest blog for them, and so today was the first of 3 posts.

Head on over there and check it out! I have so many fun weddings and previews I've been doing, wedding season and all, I've been busy!

I'll be posting pics and tips here soon... stay tuned!

Exciting Updates!

2010-06-04T14:30:00.001-07:00

I have been so busy, I've neglected you, little blogworld! I have been helping out over at Wiley Valentine, and I've been planning guest blogs for them, while the fabulous Rachelle is on maternity leave. It is the most positive, fun work environment one could ever hope to be in! What a gift to be able to help out all the lovely ladies over there...

I have had the distinct pleasure of doing the makeup and hair for Jenny Campbell of Green Wedding Shoes for a wonderful photoshoot she did. I have also worked with Diandra of DiandraAnnPhotography, doing her hair and makeup as well.

Add to that a last minute dash to work on the shoot styled by the WILDLY adorable Jesi Haack, where I had the privledge of doing hair and makeup for her models. Between that, and previews and weddings, coordinating various events, I've been a busy girl! I will make sure to get pictures up soon!

2010-05-03T10:28:00.001-07:00

So the time has come.

I am doing so much professionally, and I write so much about spiritual stuff, and although the two definitely mix in my life....

I am separating the blogs.

If you want and enjoy my personal and spiritual insights about life, please visit my new blog Alabaster Jar. There is so much material to muse about, it's painful. Downright heartwrenching. And incredibly, beautifully refining, although the process has been ugly. You'll find out more about that, if you visit me regularly over there at Alabaster Jar.

AS for the hair, the makeup, the photoshoots, and all of the other fabulous opportunities I have popping up... please stay tuned here at Flourish! I will be writing soon about the fantastic session I had with the fantastic Jenny Campbell, of Green Wedding Shoes, a wildly popular, downright FAMOUS wedding blog. More about that later....

But thank you for your loyalty, your encouragement, and your support! Let me know what you think....

Grace...the rhythm is gonna getcha

2010-02-02T18:57:00.000-08:00

I had someone tell me to describe grace in three words or less. First off, they were wise to limit my words. Secondly, I couldn't do it. I of course, took a day to research, and came up with two: undeserved favor. (And the crowd roars....) Only two words! For once I came up with LESS words, rather than 1000 more than was desired! You have no idea how proud of myself I am.

Well, not to worry, I write a blog. I'll use up those other 1000 words quite quickly, rest assured.

But with this research, I found that GRACE is quite the subject. So many people are frenzied in their concern that because 'unmerited favor' is the going definition for grace, that people will think that it is a passive, sit-back-and-do-whatever-you-want type of gift. Yes, it's a gift. Yes, it is of nothing of our own power or doing. But it is also very much something that you need to be in a place of receiving.

I think of it like this: I cannot breathe in the oxygen I need, unless I do the breathing. Now, I am fully dependent on this oxygen. Without it, I cease to exist. I did not create the oxygen, nor could I even begin to work hard enough to generate enough of it to get myself through a lifetime of my oxygen needs. It comes from something greater than me. It was designed and created by something greater than me, and it comes from something OTHER than me. I don't 'deserve' it. But I need it. It is essential for life, any sort of vitality.

Same with grace. It only comes from God, it is given by God and by those who are allowing God to live in and through them.... but we cease to exist without it. Any good that we can claim that we do cannot happen apart from grace. I can't work hard enough to 'deserve' it, I'm not great enough to create it, and yet I need it....desperately.

And maybe that's not a good analogy, and you'll probably find a bunch of holes in it. Which is the greatest thing that defines grace: It's humanly undefinable. I don't think we as humans can define it properly, wholly, for what it truly is.

We can experience a finite amount of love here on earth, or touch a piece of heaven, or joy, or peace, but grace? Even if we extend a large amount of 'undeserved favor' onto someone, we run the risk of it teetering in one direction or the other of an impure motivation for extending the grace. Maybe it's not grace, but co-dependency. Maybe it's not as much grace but obligatory guilt.... 'well, it says I should....'.

The simple fact that I don't know where grace stands in our human realm, other than the fact that we cannot possibly fathom how perfect, simple, yet complex and beyond understanding GRACE really is.... tells me that it is the essence of God Himself. Who also cannot be fully understood, or defined, but is so perfect and simple.

Until the day that I can see Grace for what it really is, I will try in my fumbled, human way to extend it to others. And I will be grateful for those who try to extend it to me, but for today, I will bask in the sunshine of God's grace, knowing that I cannot wrap my brain around it, but I am held in it's loving, perfect arms.

If you like more than 3 words describing grace, I have found this in my research, and is an excerpt from a fantastic book by Mark W. Gaither. He says this about the laws of Grace:

" And like the law of gravity, we can work against the law of grace, or we can allow it to work for us:

The law of grace responds to brokenness with mercy.

The law of grace places value on those who merit no worth.

The law of grace sacrifices one's right to happiness and looks to the Father for joy.

The law of grace trusts that imitating Christ allows us to share His glory.

The law of grace is the foundational principle of what will become the new creation.

The law of grace is a law God writes on one's heart (Jer. 31:31-34) so that it will beat in perfect rhythm with His.

I love a great beat. In fact, you can't keep me from shakin' my groove thang, ask anyone who knows me and has been witness to me with music playing. In a car, walking down the street, or in my own living room, or even on a dancefloor. But the rhythm I want my life and heart to dance along to the most.... would be the rhythm of God's heart. I want my heart to beat in perfect rhythm with God's. Could you imagine how great life would be if every day I could say in every moment my heart was beating in perfect rhythm with God's ?! Bring on more grace, Lord, you know I need it! Come'on Lord, let's dance....

How do you feel about grace? Do you extend it as much as you require it? And who's rhythm is your heart dancing to?

Mastering the Art of French Cooking... and of life and death

2009-12-23T10:16:00.000-08:00

Hey God, it's me, Courtney. It's been over a month since my last blog.

If this sounds like a confessional, or even a little like a Judy Blume book, that's because it is, a little.

I haven't written in over a month, because my heart, although hopeful, was also torn and hurting. I cannot be inspirational or even introspective, when I'm trying to feel less, think less, and turn off, for the survival of the things I love most.

Then a little over a week ago, I watched a movie with my beautiful husband... Julie and Julia; about the lost blogger that decided to take on the task of The Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. My husband sat there and in intervals of every 10 minutes, would turn to me and say, "Is this movie made for you?! Is this you?!" And it was uproariously hilarious (his comments, not the movie) because he sat there on the couch and watched me delight in every copper pot and Le Creuset enamel dish that Meryl Streeps character cooked with, and every attempt in the kitchen of the blogger Julie, and her obsession for her blog... I connected with it all. I politically don't love the French, but I have always wanted to see the Eiffel tower, and I want to eat their food, and walk the streets and buy flowers from the vendors (and then run to Italy and stay there forever...) but that, coupled with the cooking and baking thing (I love it, much to my husband's weight gain dismay) and I love the writing thing. The movie was my own little slice of Nora Ephron heaven.

I thought after watching that movie, 'I need to start writing again. I have to get on there and blog. I wish I had that netbook I've been wanting...' but alas, although inspired, I could not bring myself to write.

Then, last night, I received an email from a 'fan'. Weird to say, but I don't know her, and she shared how she started reading my blog this summer, and how it's inspired her to become a better person, how my words touched her and gave her peace. She called me courageous and brave. That me sharing my struggles, reached out and touched her.

Realize that this comes at a time where I didn't know if I would ever write again. If I could. But Miss Ashley inspired me to continue to be transparent, and to share my struggles. One thing she got wrong, is that she wishes she had my life. What she or no one else knows is that my life ended at 6 pm on Saturday night, the 19th of December. Life as I know it will never be the same. I will not explain that, but to say that I however well-intentioned I was, I am so fallibly human, incredibly unwise, desperate and hurting, and too over-dramatic for my own good.

My husband inspired me to write, he helped me believe that I had a gift. I was reminded of that gift, watching a movie of a woman who was lost and found herself through her writing. Now, I think I'm starting on that journey for myself.

This journey starts at the end of another. And at a time of year that used to be my favorite. But I am struck by this one ironic fact: At this holiday, we celebrate the birth of a Savior. He came as a weak, dependant baby, but He was God's hope to reconcile the world to Himself. He came to seek and save the lost.

God sent Jesus for reconciliation.

Christmas is about reconciliation.

But Jesus had to start this great work, and then be scorned, challenged, insulted and beaten, broken down into this ugly and diminished thing, and then.... die. A humiliating, heart-bursting death. They found that Jesus' heart actually burst inside of him. A death had to happen in order to be reconciled to God. In order to restore us to God, a death had to happen. With Jesus it was a physical death, with myself an emotional/spiritual death, but it needed to happen in order for anything or anyone to be saved. This Christmas, I have no hope, I have no peace, but I can be saved. Reconciliation is why God came, and what God began as good, regardless of what damage we do to it, God is faithful to complete it, if we'll let him. Maybe now what has died can be resurrected. All because a baby was sent to reconcile us to our loving Father.

I got an early Christmas present from my husband yesterday: Mastering the Art of French Cooking....

Carry on, young blogger, carry on.

Not for a Lack of Wanting...

2009-11-11T15:12:00.000-08:00

I want so many things. I feel too deeply for my own good. I want others to feel and love as deeply as I do, I want to share it with them. My friends are so incredibly important to me, having them, keeping them, loving them, helping them, investing in them... I want to do all of these things, I want them to feel the benefits of me doing these things.

I want. I want to give those I'm closest to that which is deepest in me. This brings two quotes to mind. One is a proverb:

For Want of a Nail
For want of a nail the shoe was lost.For want of a shoe the horse was lost.For want of a horse the rider was lost.For want of a rider the battle was lost.For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

And the other:

"You can never give another person that which you have found, but you can make him homesick for what you have." -Oswald Chambers

I want to give some of my friends that which I know, that which I believe.

I recently wrote an old friend who loved me through a very unlovable phase in my life, and shared with her that I now can imagine how she felt. I have a good friend who is also going through a difficult patch in life, and I recounted the pain I feel in watching it, and being able to do nothing about it. Not for a lack of wanting, however...

I now know what it's like to see one of God's most bright lights, most beautiful, passionate hopes for the world, make a conscious, deliberate decision to turn away from their loving Father. I know what it's like to see their justified frustration and confusion with God, and yet take it too far, and use it to justify pushing Godliness away completely.

I know what it's like to want to love the person, to show them the personhood of Jesus, but to feel like your relationship is being taken for granted, exploited, and warped into something...lesser. I know what it's like to see the possibility, the hope, and the opportunity of God's goodness to shine through, and to see the person just shut off to it. I know what it's like to see all that they could be, all that God has in store for them, and to have them be blind to it.

You feel for their confusion, you ache for their pain and their lack of understanding... they are still so wonderful, and still so stubborn and selfish at the same time. They are one of the most amazing people you've ever known, and yet being unbelievably horrible at the same time. I know what it's like now to understand that the person does not intend to be mean or malicious, and even has a great level of self-loathing because of the way they're feeling, but that they just don't have the ability to connect or want God in their life. I know now what it's like to watch someone admittedly make life choices that they know on some levels are so wrong, but to watch them... not care. And challenge the concept of wrong and right, and to make it subjective, based on their own philosophies and wants.

It is a heart-breaking, gut wrenching, shattering, nauseating experience, to observe and experience this. To want for another something they don't want for themselves, is so devastating.

At every turn, you wonder if it's worse to stay in the friendship, or worse to step away. You want to be connected, to stay intimate in friendship, to allow love to flow freely to the person, but you aren't sure if it's even going to be received. With negativity having a heyday with someone's will and heart, you don't want to give the person one more excuse to wallow any more in their justification for being willful against a God who loves them. And you wonder if stepping back, or pressing on will be the excuse they use to stack onto the other excuses they use to choose their will over God's.

And I think I've come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter, either way, it will be used as an excuse. And you want them to want it for themselves, and they just don't. You can't force it, you can't aid it, you can't help it, you can only hurt it. Because the person only wants to give in to the hurt. But they never want to give in to the healing. They never want to submit their will to God, to God's loving embrace. They don't see it the way anyone else does, unless it's someone who agrees with their negativity. They don't hear the hope, they don't feel the joy, they don't have the peace that passes understanding. And you can't give it to them, no matter how much love you give to them.

And this comes from one who passes no judgement. I cannot pass judgement. I have been to the depths of hell and back and no one could pull me out. Not with prayer, not with kindness, not with gifts, not with a hand up, not with tough love, not with tenderness, not with sheer force, not with anything. So I really have been there. Which makes it even more difficult. I know that my friend will not move from this place in life easily. I know that I can do more harm than good by even speculating on it. It's so difficult to feel pain for someone, and to know that you caused others that same pain at one time or another. Not that I wanted to... again, that word want.

It's becoming apparent to me that what my husband says is true: "Want in one hand, and shi* in the other, and see which one fills up faster!" So true. Wanting alone is not enough. It takes action, it takes will, it takes a choice, it takes actions that follow the choice. It takes... what do you think it takes? I'd love to know. I want to learn what it takes. I'd venture to philosophize:

Only God. Only time. And I only know that, because I know that's all it was for me. God. Time. I don't know what it was that made me bend my knee to God's will, exactly. I held my son in my arms and had an epiphany of peace, of warmth, of strength, of joy. And none of those emotions mattered... I just knew I had to live differently. Regardless of the personal cost, the long term, eternal effects would be worth it. I didn't need a guarantee, I just knew.

I want to give that knowing to my friend. The ability to not need a guarantee, but to just know in your core, and to proceed on that knowledge.

Not for a lack of wanting...

Asking for a broken heart...

2009-11-01T21:53:00.000-08:00

So I was reading about how it is something to be desired to have a broken heart. Yeah, you heard the hopeless romantic right. A desire to have a broken heart. Yes, sounds crazy, a broken heart is not what anyone wants. And yet, this is a concept that I am well aware of. I have been raised to know that when you humble yourself, you are in some way lifted up, that 'he who loses his life, will gain it, but he who holds tight to life will lose it'... which has always made sense to me. I've seen it evidenced in my own heart, in my own life. The moment I think I've got it figured out, the moment I think I have the answer... the rug gets pulled out from underneath me.

A sick, cosmic joke that I'm the butt of? Yes, that was a popular choice of answer by me at one time. But seeing history repeat and repeat itself in my life and the lives of others that I know and that I only hear of, I'm convinced: the rug gets pulled out from underneath us, to keep us from being so selfish. Even if it's only in the recesses of our hearts, in our hidden motives and wills, it's a self-focus. What I think. What I believe is best. What I want. What I know to be true. What I've seen. What I, what I, what I....me, me, me. There are reasons there are phrases like "The grass isn't always greener on the other side" and "Be careful what you wish for." "Less is more." "I had to hit rock bottom...". Because time and time again, when we think we've got it figured out, we're shown our place. And it isn't on the throne of our own royal making, in the center of our own royal heart, where we reign as ultimate authority. We always end up having some royal pain remind us that it's not all about us.

People in biblical times were constantly being used as examples: the woman who could only give a few cents as an offering, was looked down upon by religious leaders, yet she was made an example as the standard by which to live: He who has much and only gives a little, is a fool compared to someone who has only a few coins to live on, and who still gives everything they have. Not exactly included in many people's financial plans to become secure, let alone get ahead... and yet... what if that's not what's most important? Isn't the way to climb to the top, to achieve success, isn't that to be dynamic? Take-charge? In control? Self-assured? Kick butt and take names? Look out for numero uno? How many CEO's and heads of state are there because they put others first? Because they humbled themselves and exalted others' needs and wants above their own?

The weak will be strong. The meek will inherit the earth. Those who mourn will be comforted. The broken will be rebuilt. This describes my friends and family members. Friends and family with tumors that appear with no justification. This describes friends who are victims of accidents. This describes a vast majority of people struck by an economic crisis. We see innocents put through unjustified pain. Lost jobs. Lost family members and loved ones. Injuries uninvited. Weak. Sad. Speechless. Broken. But the message is clear: The less you are, the more you can become.

Reading the message on desiring a broken heart is timely for me. A good friend of mine wrote to me saying "I don't know if you have any idea how many people you encourage and inspire through your writing...". What an honor, yet I've been waiting to write, until I felt inspired. Until I felt encouraged. Note the date of my last post, it's been a while. It seems even in my own life, as many wonderful little things I cling to, to bring me joy in the midst of trials, they are just threads I hang on to. I have been having a hard time thinking of what I could possibly say that would inspire others, to bring them hope.

Because, lets be honest: I could use a healthy dose of hope myself.

I have been disillusioned. I have been hurt. I can't count on anything. I have been deceived. I have been weak. I keep getting bad news. I have been broken.

And I had forgotten...

That is exactly where I need to be.

Broken-hearted.

Otherwise, I am not malleable. I am not moldable. I am not flexible, but hard and rigid to my own way. Because after all... I must be right! I am too confident. Overly-secure. Self-sufficient. Self-ish, self-focused. I cannot look 'upward' if I'm staring at myself! I need to focus upward. Look upward. Aspire upward! The sky might be the limit, but if I'm focused on the circumstances around me, how can I continue onto higher things? How can I rise above the struggles that threaten to choke me, if I don't seek upward?

I know so many of my friends and people I know have pain (both physical and emotional) and such real losses occurring in life right now. There are financial walls that are closing in on them, emotional hurdles that no one has the 'legs' to jump over, setbacks personally and professionally that are devastating, losses that have left those in the aftermath crippled.

I don't know what you are facing. Even if there are demons you are fighting, and no one actually, truly knows what is going on in the depths of you, and you have no way of fully knowing even for yourself what it is you are battling... yes it is real. Yes it is painful. Yes it is big. Yes it is valid. Still...seek upward. Allow yourself to be weak. Come up against the wall, and instead of banging your head against it, break at the feet of it. I cannot imagine what presses itself as a burden on your heart, on your conscience, on your life; but my encouragement is that the weak will be made strong. Only the broken can be rebuilt properly. Only out of the ashes, rises the Phoenix.... upward.

Give UP the control, the need to do it yourself. Give UP the fight to be strong, the need for self. Give UP-ward. (And outward ;)

Look Up! Seek Up! Focus Up!

So I didn't ask for a broken heart, and I'm sure neither have you... but I'm grateful for mine. If you do have a broken heart, maybe it's a good place to be rebuilt. A firmer foundation might hold up better the next time life bludgeons your heart. And it will, of this one thing I am certain.

Onward, Outward, UPward!

Life on a 3 x 5

2009-10-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

I recently watched a movie, where the main character is a florist and saves poignant messages that come through her shop to go on the card with the flowers that get sent. Some are heartbreaking, some are funny, some are romantic. She delivers the line "Life on a 3x5...".

Which (as is customary with me) got me thinking: If I had to fit my life on a 3x5 card, I'd have to think in 'Twitter', first of all, and secondly, I would have to actually do it. Here is what I came up with:

Godmother said I was a 'worried child' with fretful look at all times. Fit thrower/'Spirited' toddler. Angsty overly romantic teen. Impassioned, directionless college student. Passionate Christian-spiritual-seeker-ministry-lover. Social Butterfly at all stages. Wife. New mother. Shattered by lies and deception. Enter: The Dark Age=6 years. Bad choices, Godlessness, wrong motives, denial, pain. Far reaching consequences that still affect me. Facade to make it look good, justification where there was none, fall, pretend to stand, crash, pretend to stand, burn, pretend to be together. New baby= Epiphany. Light broke through my cold, hard heart. Reconnect with God, went back to the last thing He was clear to me on. Fall at the feet of God, be rebuilt. H. II files divorce. Relief and freedom come much too late and at too great a cost. Horrified at the mess I made. Long lost love rekindled when least wanted or expected. More of God. Less of me. Whirlwind romance, clarity, growth. Lots of struggle, travel, more growth. Simple wedding. Committed wife. Devoted mother. More travel. In progress. Still learning. Imperfect. Rebuilding. Deconstructing the lies I built. Growing spiritually, personally, professionally. In Grace...Only by Grace...pure joy in trials. Peace that passes understanding. Totally unworthy of any good. All glory goes to God. Submissive. Humbled.

Even this, I am sure is wrong. I can't get anything right the first time. Slow learner. See! That's another thing...

What would your 3x5 say? What's your life on a 3x5? I want to hear from you...

High Fashion, High Inspiration

2009-10-22T16:23:00.000-07:00

I just love fashion. Fashionable table settings, fashionable clothing, fashionable interiors, fashionable accessories, fashionable weddings, fashionable makeup...

For which, I have become a complete magazine...uhhhm, how do I say this appropriately... a magazine-person-of-ill-repute. I am. I have Vogue, Elle, and catalogues, Anthropologie, The Land of Nod, Taste of Home, Marie Claire, Esquire, W, La Boheme.... it's just nuts. I am inspired by all of them. They are my own personal pick-me-up. Some people turn to chemicals or exercise, me? I turn to fashion... in whatever realm I seek it, I find it.

That is why I sooo love my job of doing hair and makeup. I am inspired by the looks being donned on the every page of my magazines. I never promise to recreate the look for a bride or an event, but I can use it for inspiration, and recreate the feeling you had when you looked at it. As an event-goer, if you want to feel whimsical, I can do that for you. If you want to feel like 50's glamour, I can do that. If you want to feel like you could walk the red carpet, I can do that too. Below, my friend Diandra and I felt like doing a fashion shoot. Many looks were created, but the one I've shown you is much more edgy than my typical look I do for weddings. (Obviously)

We were inspired, and we had a vision, and as most truly inspired things have a way of doing... it was blessed by doors of opportunity that flew wide open. Great location, great locals that opened their businesses and lent help, great models, and a great creative collaboration. Here are a few pics of what transpired between my brushes and Diandra's camera.

Whether doing makeup, your wedding, or your daily grind - Don't merely live... Flourish!

A Love Affair with all things Wiley Valentine...

2009-10-21T15:41:00.000-07:00

So I have a confession: I'm in love with the girls from Wiley Valentine. I'd specify and say it's just the creative masterminds and owners, Emily and Rachelle, but then I'd be leaving out every sweet girlie they have over there at the studio, which just isn't fair. It doesn't matter how many times I have called or requested an audience with them, the entire staff is genuine and kind, and so down to earth.

Granted, I am convinced that they are simply being nice to the dorky girl who is their number one fan. But I try to ignore that reality and pretend we're best girlfriends. I first discovered WV when I was flipping through the pages of InStyle Weddings, and saw their amazing invitations that were featured. At the time, I was working with a company that I thought had a lot to offer this up and coming duo, and specifically sought them out, purely out of my love and admiration for their philosophy and their work. Truly, for me, it was like meeting my own personal celebrities. I've never been star struck by anyone I've met, but Emily and Rachelle find their way into your heart and are so endearing and fabulous, I couldn't help but to become a loyal follower.

Totally ridiculous, I know this. I play at what they do for real. I aspire to even clean their adorable studio, to help package their adorable stationery, or to have the opportunity to just sit and soak up their creativity and genuine kindness. I could hope that I'd be able to have a bit of it rub off on me. It would be one thing if they were just producing amazing ideas and products, but they are genuinely great individuals. Great to get to know, and great to work with. Like your best girlfriends and your dream business duo, creating your own personal fantasy for invites, all rolled into one!

Enough mush, I'll get to the point... don't let my slobber gross you out, please.... They've done the ultimate... they have honored and humbled me beyond what I can describe!

They have featured my wedding and the love story between my husband and I on their fantastic blog. You MUST click here to read about it! And please, join me and become devout fans of theirs, as well. Their blog and their products are beyond, BEYOND fabulous. They have their finger on the pulse of everything cutting edge and stunningly beautiful. They are a step ahead of everyone with not just invites and stationery, but ideas for event planning, and everything weddings. They are visionaries and from what I see... the future is filled with nothing but beautiful images and amazing events for the lovely ladies at Wiley Valentine. They keep just getting better and better. Check them out, it'll be your own daily dose of inspiration, I know it's mine! Em and Rachelle...Muah! xoxo-c.

Ponies and Blankies

2009-10-14T17:41:00.000-07:00

I fly a lot. On planes. (I mean, given that I don't have wings, with the exception of my Always once a month, what else are my alternatives?) And you know you've seen them a million times, even if just portrayed in movies: The kid, with the backpack, teddy bear in hand, escorted by a flight attendant, to fly alone. Shuffled back and forth on a plane, to either mom's or dad's. Doesn't it just wrench at your heart? Isn't it just the epitome of the term 'broken home'? The kids always have to be torn in half in order to see the half of them that is a part of them... they are equally mom's and dad's and both mother and father live in and make up that child, and they have to break themselves from one, to go visit the other half of themselves.

I don't like bringing this up, mind you. It reveals a fissure so deep in my soul that to expose it is really quite silly, really. Such a weakness should never be exposed, but protected, or at least cleverly distracted from. To lay it out for the world at large is to make myself an easy target. But this is me. This is a part of me, my Achilles heels are part and parcel. No need to try to separate out the good from the bad, it's a package deal.

It's the grand canyon in my soul, because I have kids who are broken. I broke them. Leaving the details aside and having moved past blame which I used to hold as justification in my clenched hands (which blame is only shame hurled outward) Regardless of the details, I can only clean up my side of the street. I broke them. I carry their pieces, and with them, the pieces of myself along with me every day. A bus drives by, another piece. My friend nuzzles her son 24-7, 365 days a year, another piece. Ribbons and rubber bands sit in a basket and were not used today, another piece. A matchbox car is hidden in the cushions without the little hands to retrieve it, another piece. And I will never, never know the pieces that fall from my children in addition to the fragments I already hold that someone else catches. I do not pretend that there aren't pieces of my children that fall every day, even more than my own that they do not even verbalize, and that will very possibly leave them stunted in a way they can never put a finger on even into adulthood. So this is not a pity party. Any personal loss I might possibly perceive is most certainly shadowed by the loss my children have, do, and will experience due to this reality.

Yesterday, as I left my daughter at her dad's, not only did we 'exchange hearts' which we have always done, she gave me her pony (which was a thing her Mimi started, a tangible to exchange to remember while apart). But not just any pony, but her My Little Pony, whose name is North Star. There is a compass with a heart in the middle of it as the pic on the pony's hindquarters. Interesting choice of pony, you intuitive, deep, perceptive, amazing little girl. Also, I had my son's special blankets, the pink one he loves because it's his sister's and he's adopted it, the one my friend Jenny gave us when he was born that he's always had, and his T (short for softie) which is nappy looking and small, and he drools on it, begs for it, and can't sleep without it. They smell like his little man self, and I keep them with me, since he has other special blankets at his dad's.

And it occurred to me as I boarded the plane yesterday from parting with my two hearts... I am a reverse of that picture we have in our minds of those children of divorce. I am a divorced parent. I must have looked like a child trapped in a woman's body, because I sat there in seat 3A, aboard flight 2550, with two blankies on my lap, T in hand up to my nose, and my North Star pony in hand. If I would have had a flight attendant escort to help me, I would have appreciated it. It's always hard to stand strong when you've left your heart behind.

People are like Wine...

2009-10-07T09:45:00.001-07:00

I want to honor my husband. Although I have been told I ought to write a book many times throughout my life, it was my husband who just recently inspired me. He looked at me, after one of my infamous soap box rants and said 'Courtney, you need to write a book. You have a way with words that no one I've ever known has. It is the perfect thing for you to do, it fits you and your life and your schedule. You have to do this.' He even got me a memory chip so that I could do all of my writing and save it on that. But I would open a blank document, and it just felt so...dry... blogging has definitely whet my whistle! It is a creative catalyst for me. Writing begets more writing. The more I write, the more I am inspired to write.

As much as I was flattered by his strong belief in my ability to succeed as a writer, and his excitement at my pursuing it, I couldn't really conceptualize it as a reality. What cinched it was my husband's weary look after my incessant talking when he said "Please. (long, desperate pause) Please... write. out. your. thoughts. I'm only one person, and I can't take it, babe. You think too much. I'm not able to respond in depth like you want. Please. Just. Write!' Poor, sweet man. I laugh now just picturing the sweet face of my husband in weary desperation, begging me to take my thoughts and philosophies and feelings and memories and meanderings out on the paper, instead of out on him. God bless his cotton socks.

And he has never made a suggestion about what I should write about... until now. He said, 'You should write about our wine tasting'. Now... let me explain why he wants me to do this. It is two fold: First, it's that I have this theory. Secondly, it's that it was our first time of doing wine tasting, so it was a fun and memorable experience.

First, the theory: My husband thinks this is hilarious, and I do believe I'm on to something. If you are a single man, you need to get your butt out wine tasting! It's ingenious, really. There are vans and SUV's and tour buses jam packed full of girls and women 21 and over that are going wine tasting! Think about it! Wine tasting is much more dignified and draws a much more refined crowd, than, let's say, the bar with the mechanical bull. So you have a higher caliber of people who are drawn to wine tasting. Secondly, their defenses are down, because they aren't in a trashy bar scene, where they know they're being scammed on. I'm just saying. If you're a single man, you should seriously consider putting together a mini-tour bus of friends made up of couples and other eligible buddies of yours the next time there is a festival going on, or on a weekend. I'm telling you, then you're with a co-ed bunch of people, and you've got the perfect 'front'. Now... I'm sure that feminists everywhere are going to start the witch hunt for me, for saying this. But I think it's brilliant. I mean, it just is. I'm not going to be self deprecating about it. It's brilliant. And I have enough single friends to know that it's hard to meet anyone in a decent arena, because bars and nightclubs aren't it, people. It just breeds insecurity and unhealthiness. Not a solid foundation.

I was sitting there, watching droves of women swarm every winery we went to, and then there were the couples... and not that I saw them, but the only groups of men that I imagine would go wine tasting, would be gay, most realistically speaking. And I mused to my husband, 'This is an untapped market for single guys! I mean, seriously, they're missing out on a much better environment for meeting available women by not knowing that wine tasting is the next frontier!' I know. How very archaic of me. So what if I'm old fashioned?! As a single girl, I liked the thought that guys would go out of their way and be creative in order to meet me. In fact, they wouldn't have been considered otherwise! I mean, what girl wouldn't love that? That's what I'm saying! Single guys should go out their way for a single girl...if that makes me anti-feminism, then sign me up. I think women deserve to be pursued. So single guys, consider yourself informed: go wine tasting!

That aside, I know that Dan thinks I should put that theory out there, since he thinks it's so funny. But next, and more importantly... we had a great time. It's FREE! An entire day (with the exception of gas) that is free entertainment and good times. You can pack a lunch, or do like us, don't eat until dinner! My husband doesn't necessarily love wine that much, but it certainly taught us both a lot about different kinds of wines and it honed our preferences for what we like in a wine. Not that we're big drinkers. We're not. But yes, I do like a glass of wine from time to time. It really does bring out the flavor in your food! And, well, Jesus turned water into wine. I mean, who am I to argue with that?

It occurred to me: People are very much like wine. We 'taste' the way we do, because of our environmental factors. Sure, a grape is a grape is a grape, and people are people. But like wine, depending on what area it was grown in, and what the weather is like, and what other foliage grows near it, what kind of barrel it was aged in...it tastes differently. You might be able to taste rosemary, lavender, cherry, oak, berries, what-have-you. It just depends on so many different factors. Same goes for us as people. Some of us grew up in a warm environment, some of us a cold, unfeeling one. Some of us weathered many storms, some of us had mellow weather, and an occasional unexpected monsoon. Some of us have undertones of love, grace, compassion, or even harshness, or judgement, or a critical nature. Others have notes of joy or abrasiveness or empathy or indifference. Some of us taste sweet, and some of us are very dry, and suck the moisture right out of your mouth. Spicy, sweet, dry, bold, mellow. All are words to describe wine, and they also describe the diversity of people. And regardless of whether you are berry sweet, or you have a lot of tannins--there are many other people who will prefer your 'taste'. What doesn't taste good to one person, is another person's preference.

We know that depending on what kind of wine you're drinking, it brings out the flavors in the dishes you are eating. Which reminds me very much of my husband and myself. We have some very similiar environmental factors, and some others, are very different. We each have our own different undertones and notes... our own, unique 'taste'. And although very unique and different, we bring out other flavors in the other. And just as an aged wine gets better with time, so does my understanding and appreciation for my husband. Sure, some aspects of me (and him for that matter) are an 'acquired taste' but it's well worth the patience and hard work to develop the appreciation. Also, just like those grapes, we as people are put through a process. Those little grapes are pressed and stomped and strained and when they should be dead, the fermenting process allows them to live on, to be something that gets better. The process brings out so much more than that little grape would have ever been without the long enduring process with all it's different stages and changes.

We are all better for the process. We are picked and pressed and fermented and we taste so much better for it! My relationship with my precious husband is much the same way. It just gets better and better with time, and every step of the process of life's 'pressings' develop our depth and flavor. And like a gourmet meal, he brings out the 'flavors' in my personality that would otherwise just be an undertone. We are a compliment to each other, and just like our day of wine tasting, it is a new adventure every day, where we learn and grow in our understanding of the other. I am so very blessed by this process.

Thanks, Babe. You knew this would be a fun subject, and you were right!

All I needed to know, I learned at Camp Firwood....

2009-10-05T14:58:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking so much about what a crazy life I lead...I live in Washington, I travel to LA at least twice a month, it's just nuts. I've been thinking about how I want all aspects of my life to be consistent with one another, yet I have these two, totally different worlds that exist for me. Slow paced, God-family-community focused Washington, and fast-paced image-entertainment-career-focused LA. And listen, I gotta be honest and say.... I love both. I do love Washington more, I do believe that God, family and community should come first. But career helps finances, which helps family. And for me, all of the things that utilize my skills, talents and gifts, which could be used toward a career, are entertainment/image focused things.

And my confidence comes from God, yet as far as my career options, I do feel more confident when I look the part, when I dress the part. When I look and feel 'upscale' and fashion-forward. I feel I draw in those types of opportunities when I look that way. And Lord knows money is not everything, but it is a necessity, and I gotta make some! And doing that fast-paced-let's-create-opportunities-be-self-sufficient type of mentality is so satisfying to me! I love it. And yet, I have this family, hearth and home thing deep inside of me that makes me want to just bake and cook and homeschool my kids and be Martha-Stewart-ish. To do all of the things in Real Simple Magazine. To invest in my kids and husband over investing in my career. To forget how cutting edge I am in how I dress, and just forget fashion (gasp!) and just do the homemaker mom thing. It. just. seems. so. conflicting. and. complicated.

Augh.

Why am I this WAY???!!! Why can't I just be the simple girl?! Simple feelings, simple thoughts, simple dreams, simple goals. Simple life. Simple. Plain. Ordinary. My heart cries out to God (who even when I say that, I think, well, I call Him God, and who am I to know his real name? Someone in the middle of nowhere with no missionaries and no contact with the modern world calls 'him' something totally different, and I have no concept of who and all he really is! Again, point in case... NOT simple. NOT uncomplicated. I can't have a single, simple thought in my brain, and it's annoying.) But even then, the question is 'GOD! Oh why can't I control this? Haven't I tried hard enough? Done enough? Worked in opposition to my natural bends and traits and faults and weaknesses to shape this well enough?' My heart cries out to God, "Why am I this way?! And if I'm not supposed to be this way, then please, give me eyes to see and a willing heart to change!"

And so I thought to myself... you know, Courtney, this is not new. This is not shaping from your experiences. All you ever really needed to know about yourself you learned at Camp Firwood. Ha! How about that... all you ever really needed to know about yourself can be figured out at 10 years of age at a summer camp. Get out your flashlights and fleece vests, and venture with me, will you?

I'd get to camp, and I'm nervous that there are a bunch of screaming counselors and CIT's at the car windows, which puts me on the spot. I then realize I have to take a swimming test, which makes me nervous, like I want to go home, and I wish they could change the rules or let me off easy, because I hate cold water, and again, I hate being put on the spot, let alone put on the spot and tested on it. Hmm. Revealing.

Next, I'd get to see who my counselor and CIT are. I really, really want them to be the cool, fun, pretty counselors/CIT. (Totally superficial, I know! But I'm being transparent, and opening myself up for all sorts of ridicule, to be sure.) I want a very particular bunk, the one that looks the least prey for spiders or bugs. Funny, since there are only canvas convering the doors and windows. And I'm also so excited to see who the other campers are in the cabin... because I love anything that is not small-town Forks, anything that is representative of city, or the world at large. But I'm also scared that they'll be mean. Or that I won't be cool enough. But I really want to make friends. It's so cool and fun to make new friends! Again, interesting.

Next comes for the time to choose what classes I want to take. There are two hours of classes, one hour, is class one, and the second hour is your second elective. And they fill up fast, so you have to have 'backups'. Now, this is where it gets interesting. They have a barn, with horses, and in order to do that, you have to sign up ahead of time, and it's extra money. My parents did this once for me, as I loved horses and grew up around them. But I never did it past that first summer. Wanna know why? Because you had to get up way too early. And it required you to miss out on things like Theater Sports! Or Aerobics! (which was always code for 'dance' but it could never be 'really dancy' because it was Bible Camp and you gotta draw the line somewhere). And really, when I had access to horses back home, why would I waste time on it, and money that could be spent on Crafts? It's not that I didn't love riding horses, or even all the work and dirt you face with horses, I can do all of that, but those early mornings, and the lure of better more interesting things drew me away.

Now let's get to it: Theater Sports/Drama. Loved it. But also, got nervous at the competition of it all. It was crazy to be put on the spot and to see if you had the chops to cut it. I looooooved it. And of course, Aerobics, which was a place to show my ability to dance, and to pick up on other's talents, which I also looooooved. And my back up was rock climbing and crafts. Rock climbing because it fed my dare-devil side, and also my love of doing physically athletic things, but it was not something I could do at home. And Crafts, because I absolutely loved the idea of making something (namely bracelets and anklets) that I could wear home, that clearly conveyed: 'This is not Forks. This is so cool somewhere else, to tons of kids who are from all over, and it hasn't hit this tiny town yet.' I loved to watch what all the other kids were wearing, and to see what was cool. Yes, it was my own personal fashion week. And of course, this was a double-edged sword, since I got to make mental notes of what was cool, and to note what the girls that all the boys liked best were wearing. But in turn, I realized how I had none of these things. I was wearing what was cool last year. Or what I thought was fashionable. Embarrassing. And don't get me wrong it was never about name brands, but a 'look'. But it prepped me for school clothes shopping for the next year, you can be sure!

But lastly, and most importantly, what I loved the most about camp was how cool and fun it was to learn about God. To be in a place where you watched kids your age struggle with issues of faith, where they brought their home lives with them, inside of them, and where you watched kids at 'fireside' connect and identify with what was being spoken about. Yes, there were kids with divorced parents. Abuse. Big hurts. And then there were kids like me, who just plain ole' felt alone and worried about where they fit in. But we were all struggling with if we believed, or not, and what could be proven, and what could not. Whether we would choose to live life our way, or Jesus' way. We all were faced with our vulnerabilities, and we all saw where God could heal the places that hurt, the places within us.

There were kids who came to camp never going to church or having God be a topic of conversation in their home, to kids like me who were raised in a very dogmatic, conservative church, and every scenario in between. My experience was that Amy Grant was a controversy because she had a 'secular' sound to her music, and where hymns were the only acceptable form of music. And my church was not the cool church. We had Awana, which was not veiwed as cool. Missionettes was cool, but that was held at a church that was much more contemporary. But at Firwood, it was cool to stand on your bench at meals and dance kooky to the blasting music, just like your staff members. It was cool to talk about God, and ask the hard questions, and to challenge things 'How can you know God is real?' They welcomed it. They addressed it. And it was awesome. And it was real. And they had love, with no strings attached, oozing out of them.

My favorite thing I learned at camp is how relevant and real God was. And that He created each of us, unique and special, for a specific purpose. There were all these staff members who were fun, and diverse and unashamed of sharing their faith. They came from all walks of life, with all kinds of hurts and issues, and they all stood on one thing: God is real. God changes lives. There are absolutes, but there are also the open arms of Jesus. Where it is a gift of grace, that we are all in the same boat, and that we all have the need for God. Where no one is perfect, and personal testimonies, and fireside talks, and analogies which just hit you in the core of your heart hit home that you can have this same thing in your every day life. And the love... people loved each other. You could see it in the health of the way things operated on staff. As a kid, you never would identify it as such, but you saw everyone working together, being positive, lifting each other up, praying together, studying their bibles, worshipping together. And it wasn't weird. It wasn't awkward or embarrassing. It was amazing. It was fun, and funny, and uplifting and inspiring. And I wanted to share it with the world.

Even in my idyllic home life, I wanted my family to operate like Camp Firwood. It instilled in me a passion to share what I experienced of God, wherever I was. I was taught that people should come to know God simply by watching our lives and our conduct. Oh man. Not that I've always done that. I know there have been times where I've done more of an evil work through my choices than conveyed and given evidence for a loving, good God through my actions. So. Bad. Please, forgive me. If you can. Not that I deserve it.

But lets look at this, shall we? I was diverse and complicated and contradictory from the beginning! I like the dirt and work of horses, but I'm not a morning person. I'm not a diva when it comes to getting dirty, but I don't like bugs or spiders. I'll climb a rock cliff, but I don't want to get cold. I don't like being put on the spot, or tested. But I'll test my chops in front of a crowd, to see how I measure up in entertaining them. I love displaying my strengths, and want to get out of things that display my weaknesses. I love anything creative, anything that sets me apart. I love my hometown, but I want to go beyond it. I love making new friends. I am fascinated by people, the more diverse, the better. I love to be exposed and observe anything different than the culture I was raised in. And I have a passion for a personal relationship with God, and I want to share it with others. Through my failures, and through being transparent. I love fun, I love loud, funny, memorable displays of loving God, and being in community with those who also love him. I like hearing about and communicating how relevant and how needed He is. I love connecting with others, and hopefully, helping them connect with God, in whatever way they can. And on the flip side, I can be terribly materialistic, judging even my counselors on how they look...nuts. And I can turn my observations of others' clothes into my own 'do's and don'ts' list....crazy. (although it does show an interest in that area early on, doesn't it?!)

But I also learned early on that it didn't matter what you looked like, we all have a story. And it doesn't matter what that past story looks like, with a personal relationship with God, the kind that you allow to permeate all areas of your life (not just let it in on Sundays or holidays or when it suits you) that your story can be dramatically changed. You can be a new creation. Relationships can function the way they're supposed to. Positivity and the ability to cope with any tragic situation is in your grasp. That you can live and breathe the love of God to others, and anything is possible for your future.

I still don't like all of the facets of my life that seem to be conflicting with one another. I',m still puzzled by the interests that seem to negate the other ones. I don't want to have to choose, or rather, I'd like it to be clear cut what I am to do, and which direction I should go. But I do suppose that all I really need to know, I learned at Camp Firwood. Which is: I have been 'fearfully and wonderfully made' and all of my strengths and weaknesses can be used by God. It doesn't matter what a screw up I am, or how conflicting the wars that go on in my life, or within myself, or how many choices I have to make in life, most simply put: 'Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.' and 'All things are possible with God.'

I guess if I can just manage to keep those simple baselines as a springboard for all else, then I just might be able to live the simple life.

Meet me here again tomorrow, will you? Bring your matches, because I'd like to sit around the fire and share some more Firwood memories with you. I cannot encapsulate all that The Firs and Firwood means to me, without sharing with you some more. Oh, and also, just a tip...that peanut butter they send with you in the overnight box is best on your smores, instead of the white bread. ;)

I'm the real life Bella...kind of...

2009-09-30T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm the real life Bella. I'm from the famed Forks, Washington, and I can't believe it's the mecca of Twilighters the world over.

I, too, was a transplant and I grew up in that damp, bright green rainforest, longing for the sun, for the warmth of a haute-er climate. I never quite fit in...I dressed a little different, I just wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Until I met my Edward. It was then that tiny town took on a new excitement and glory for me.

I was a bit younger than Bella is in the books, but those years were glorious. However, like Edward, he went away, and like Bella, I was devastated. Reading the books as an adult, I was surprisingly moved by New Moon, as I spent most of the time wondering 'Did Stephanie Meyer have a looking glass with which she looked into my past and found me in a ball on the mossy ground of the Forks forest?' I thought, 'Do I know Stephanie Meyer? She apparently knows my life....' Well, of course, sans the vampire thing. But the timeless, aching, beyond-anything-you've-ever-read, can't-get-enough type of love between two people...that... I had.

The thing where everyone thinks you're too young and it can't possibly be that deep, that true, that real. It's just high school, right? And Edward only says those things because he's had so many years of being 17 that he's well-versed in the most devoted, soul-tugging confessions of loyalty and tunnel vision only for the object of his attention, right? Welllll, I have to say that every word I read out of Edward's mouth were words I had heard spoken in my own personal love story.

Oh, and I mentioned that, like Edward, he went away for what he felt was my 'own good' and to 'protect me'. Not from the Volturi of course, but from himself and his immature boyish ways. And yes, he came back, albeit 16 years later. And yes, our hometown is Forks, and we are married now, too. But we are not vegetarians. It's hard to be vegetarian when you grow up on local deer and elk. Oh wait, maybe by the Cullen's standards we are vegetarians. Hmmm...

But going back to our childhood homes, to visit our families who still live in Port Angeles and Forks, we are thrilled with how accurate some of Meyers' depictions of Forks were going only from a few pictures on the internet and a dream. The meadow? There is a place just like that, several actually, but we flew there as young lovers on our ATV whizzing through the woods, not with super-human speed. She is gifted, that is for sure. She describes my beloved hometown so well. We are all baffled by the fanaticism and ferver with which our tiny, po-dunk broken-down town has been taken up with. And yet, so incredibly grateful.

You see, Forks was a special place to grow up. As much as many of us longed to get out, to live in the city, to be 'bigger' and 'better' than that hick town.... it is our home. It is our family. We know everyone, and on the 4th of July, we know that everyone who has moved away, will come back for the social event of the year. Forks Old Fashioned 4th of July, where 'Y'all come back now, y'hear?' banners have hung across Highway 101 for our entire lives around that holiday, and we all obey them, gravitating home every July.

As much as we Forks natives have found our Independence elsewhere, if we haven't stayed living in Forks, we always spend our Independence Day coming back to our little logging town. Where the loggers are not rapists of the land, but farmers, who are third and fourth generation farmers of trees. Who love the land, and who very much adopt and live in harmony with our Native American neighbors' philosophy that there is a cycle of life, and a way to honor nature. Where the men work the land, tend it, take care of it, so that it continues to reap a harvest for generations and generations to come. It is it's own magical land in the corner of the world where family, tradition, and integrity in all you do are of the utmost importance.

We all remember the heyday of the 80's in Forks where there was an electricity of energy that would buzz in the air because life was so good, so healthy, so thriving. Long before Stephanie Meyer dreamt of our little town, and before our local economy was devastated by laws made by people who did not understand our way of life...we were the mecca for families, growth, and vacationers aplenty. But we became broken, and walked with a limp...all the while carrying our loyalty torch for our hometown, along with our shiny, electric memories of the good ole' days. It seems our hometown pride has paid off, thanks to the brilliant story-weaving of Ms. Meyer.

And as for me, I have my 'haute' world now... I've been living in LA the past 8 years, and I am married to my 'Edward'. I am still in awe at the fact that 'Bella's house' is actually our long-time family friend Dave's house, or that our 8th grade science teacher is renting out rooms in her house to Twilight fans because the hotels are booked. But we are also grateful to have our 'buzz' back in the streets of Forks. We're so excited that people can see the rivers we swam in, the forests we ran through and built forts in, the streets we rode our bikes in, and the meadows we sparkled in. We are happy to share our secret corner of the world, full of it's mystery and beauty and folklore...which has never been fiction.

By: Courtney Pooler

Only Out of the Struggle...

2009-09-25T23:51:00.000-07:00

My mother called me to tell me about a talk radio thing she heard. The man told a story about a gentleman who watched a moth in it's chrysalis start to break out. It broke a hole out, and then slowly was struggling to work it's way out. From what I understand, he watched it struggle for a couple of days. In his concern for the poor creature, he took a pair of fine tip scissors, and snipped the hole a bit bigger, to help out. However, when the moth finally made it's way out, a long time later, it's wings were shriveled, and it's body was swollen, disfigured and debilitated.

The speaker went on to explain the scientific details (which didn't quite make it into my mother's memory, or her recap to me) about how it is in the process of breaking through the cocoon that the wings strengthen and the body is put into proper shape.

It is in the struggle that the creature is prepared for life outside of it's protective covering.

How profound. And how true of us humans, in addition to the moths and butterflies. The butterfly is a symbol of new life, and that is why (before it got passe) I got a tattoo of a butterfly. Now, I wanted it to mean something, because it had to be meaningful if I was going to mark my body with it. My favorite verse has always been 'You will know the truth, and the truth shall set you free'. So as the body of the butterfly, I have the East African symbol for truth. And I have always had such a love affair with butterflies. And I always seem to see them when I need to be reminded that God is near. It is like He sends them to me. Even when they shouldn't be around, I will see one.

One of my favorite memories is with my son, during a very difficult time, and we were in the park and suddenly we were surrounded by butterflies, flitting and fluttering around us, there were at least 10 and they were not shy. They did not fly away, they enveloped and hovered around us. I held my son and we ran around, dancing together and with the butterflies, and he laughed so deep, so hard. He was overjoyed by their silly, zig-zagged flying. And my tears were silent and sweet, streaming down my face. What a joy to have been sent such a reminder: 'New life. Renewal. Free.'

I find it so interesting that we have such an unavoidable parallel in nature to remind us of some of the most profound unchanging truths. From the time of a elementary school, we read The Hungry Caterpillar, and were taught that you go in a worm, but you come out, a beautiful butterfly. From that moment, we know that it is possible to change from one thing, into a more beautiful, free thing. And that involves a time of captivity, or of rest, or of hibernation...a time of changing, of amazing transformation.

But it involves a time of struggle, too.

One that if you try to take a shortcut out of, then you stunt your growth. You disfigure what it is you were meant to be at the end of the struggle.

Some parents do this with their children. They warp their children because in an effort to ease the pain of their child, they 'help' too much, and they debilitate their child's ability to learn and grow and transform through that struggle. I understand that urge. But I am being shown what kinds of adults are raised when as children, they are cushioned out of their own hardships. I have to keep reminding myself that today's children are tomorrow's adults. And if we soften each blow that is dealt to them, their weaknesses will never mature, and we'll have 8 year olds, 13 year olds, 18 year olds walking around in adult bodies fumbling at living an adult life. I don't want to help my children out of a struggle now, where they might have the opportunity of learning a character-building life lesson and then have to watch them struggle in areas forevermore.

For me, however, my struggle came out of a prayer. (Well, and a few other things, too, but that will come at another time...) The prayer went like this: 'God, Refine me. Make me like You. I will do whatever. I just want to be fully Yours, to be used by You, for Your glory. I want to be so identified with You, that others see You through me.'

Oh. My. Gosh. Well, be careful what you pray for, folks. I was put in a refining fire, and it burned so white hot that I backed out. The next conversation with God went a little like this: 'Ok. I get it. I asked to be refined, but this is too painful. This is not what I meant. This is too much. This is not what I bargained for. This is pissing me off. I'm done. I resign from this refining baloney.'

And I came out of that 6 year bow-out, with a swollen body and shriveled wings, let me tell you. I looked much better as a worm, I'm sure of it. I've found out the hard way that when you take the easy way out of a struggle, it's never the easy way at all. Because maneuvering around with a distortion of what you were meant to be, is much harder than the fight through the difficulty would have been. And the worst of it? When you bow out of the struggle... that refining, transforming process doesn't just disappear....

It waits for you.

Ooooh, yes. It will still be there, and you will still have to go through it, somehow, somewhere. And even worse? Sometimes because you put it off, the struggle that now awaits you is much more difficult than it would have been in the beginning. But luckily, we as humans only do this spiritually, mentally, emotionally... which means it waits for us. Unlike our unlucky moth friend in the story, who only got one chance, and because of the 'help' of a well-intentioned spectator, ruined the little creature's hopes of survival.

Thank goodness for second chances. And third, and in my case, 10 millionth chances. Not that I deserve a single one of them. But that is why I only exist but for God's grace. The truth does set you free, and it is by grace that I have been saved. I am still struggling, but, after all, I put it off for 6 years, so, this time I'm not looking to bow out from the refining process. I would rather do the hardest life I can imagine with God, than an easy life without Him. I did it that way, and it leaves a path of destruction behind it.

I am still working my way out of my chrysalis....I can't wait till my wings look all pretty, so I can do the flying I know God originally had in mind that I would do.

Grace: 1 a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b : a virtue coming from God c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace

A real love story....

2009-09-24T12:12:00.000-07:00

I love being in the wedding industry. Even though it's always been something I've done 'on the side', my gifts and my natural disposition and interests gear me in this direction. My creative, artistic, perfectionistic bend on creating a moment, a feeling, an inspiration for an individual or an event is made for the wedding industry. Not to mention the incurable disease I have of being a hopeless romantic. Needless to say, it's all a dangerous mix. And you poor people have to read about it. Tsk. Tsk.

The early hours of this morning has unfolded some sadness, but also revealed an amazing love story I want to share with you. It has brought up some theories, which will be a precursor to the love story. Walk with me...

I find that so many in our generation were told that we could be whatever we wanted, that we could make our dreams come true, that the sky was the limit and that we deserved even better than the generations before. Many of us, even if we grew up in a non-broken home, and loved our parents' marriages, we looked at our mothers and our grandmothers, and said "I want an even better marriage. I won't sit idly by... I won't merely co-exist... I won't be taken for granted... I will have a passionate marriage... I deserve undying romance..." Some of these standards have rolled off my lips, and many or all of them I have heard out of the mouths of so many of my college and my 20-somethings girlfriends.

In a time when we are being told that if we believe we're worth it, we'll attract 'worth it' experiences and benefits in life, this take-the-world-by-storm-the-world-is-your-oyster type of mentality, it's run over into our love lives. When we gen x'ers start to consider a relationship or marriage, we are not going to be caught in a lifetime of a loveless marriage...no, no, no! We've learned from our mothers and grandmothers, and our silly friends who married and divorced too young. No, Not Us! We're going to make sure we're compatible. Same type of family of origins. We're wary of too much baggage or dysfunction. We take tests and we read self help books. We do our best to eliminate any discomfort, unhappiness or dissatisfaction for our marriages/relationships. But I'm going to throw something out there...

It's risky....

Maybe we're expecting too much.

[GASP! Murmurs and mutterings...] Oh no she didn't....Yes, yes I did.

How very anti-positive self-esteem of me! And haven't we been told by Loreal we deserve the best, 'because you're worth it'? And aren't we? Aren't we worth the best?

Absolutely.

But maybe what we think is the best, is a stifled version of best. Let me ask you this: If you knew you wouldn't be hurt, would you rather soar over the most beautiful view you can imagine with just your 'wings'? Feeling the rush of the adrenaline, the soft warmth of the air swirl around you, a feeling of total exhiliaration and excitement and wonder? Or would you rather be in a bubble, with a padded helmet so it drowns out the sounds of nature, and big thick goggles, that distort and blur your view? And a protective, padded shell of a covering so that you could not manuever at will? This, (given that you don't have a debilitating fear of heights) is an easy answer for me. If I knew I wouldn't get hurt, give me the wings alone, and let me feel the thrill of it all!

And yet that's what we do...sure we fall in love, but we package it so tightly and try to prevent all chances of failure and hurt that we stifle real love, a real, working marriage. Sure, idiocy and unhealthiness are not good either, but I'm suggesting we have gotten so 'entitled' that we entitle ourselves right out of a real, lasting love that is made of the stuff that's really deep, really true. I'll take a few bumps and bruises, and even deep scars, if I could look back on an exhilarating adventure. A real life. Not glamourous, just true. That's exhiliariting. A deep, true, lifetime love made up of the millions of mundane daily routines. Now that's an adventure I don't want to protect myself too tightly from.

Today I got news that my closest childhood friend from Forks, that her Grandma passed away. She was ill, and they knew she didn't have much time. I grew up with this family as a second family...so this comes as difficult news. But Christi shared with me the most tender story. I will share what she wrote:

"Today, my grandpa Joe went to see her. He hasn't been in the hospital much because it's too painful for him to watch her deteriorate. He sat on her bed and he cried and cried and held her hand, and her eyes swelled with tears. He told her good-bye and that he will miss her so much. I can't imagine how he feels. I don't think he's ever not been without her for 50 years. I worry about my grandpa, but my dad told grandma that we will all take care of him."

Now, let me tell you, growing up in and around this family, they didn't strike me as a particularily romantic couple. He's a logger. I don't think he was too worried about her having a spa day. He didn't take her out to lavish meals, or have a weekly date night, far as I knew. Nor did he make sure she got her 'girl time' or girls nights out. Flowers, cards, notes, gifts were not a regular thing not even for special occasions. Grandpa Joe is salt of the earth, a great, great man, but I don't ever remember him gushing kind, sweet, uplifting things to make sure Grandma Ingrid's self esteem was intact or that she knew she was 'valued' and deeply appreciated. Now, maybe he did. But think about it: by today's standards, I don't know how many girls would give a second date to someone like that. I don't know how many of us would recommend that our friend keep dating someone who wasn't 'worth' her time, or going to vy for her attention.

But here's a sweet love story, in our own backyard, and they didn't meet any of those 'requirements' that we deem so important as ingredients in our relationships. They just lived life. They had 4 kids, a farm, a logging company, and worked hard. Supported all of their family (and even the friends of their family, like me) in all of their endeavors. They were at every game, every birthday, of every kid. They have so many kids and grandkids, I doubt they had much 'alone time', with all of us kids raiding the cupboards, and zooming through their yard. But read what my friend wrote! After 50 years, they cry at the thought of having to say goodbye. They have a living legacy they've created. Just. by. doing. life. together. Not fancy. Not ripped from the pages of a romance novel, or even a book on what a great marriage is 'supposed' to look like. Heh...

I don't know the details of their marriage, but I've got to guess it wasn't always easy. I do know that generationally speaking, life was not nearly as comfortable for your typical housewife back then, as it is now. They were the generation of grin and bear it. There is a reason why there are the 50's housewife stereotypes depicted in movies. You know, the women who live lives of quiet desperation, but put on a smile as she leaves the kitchen, in her pretty lil' apron ready to serve the 'made-from-scratch' meal she's dutifully prepared? It's a stereotype because it was the rule more than the exception. Yeah, that's them. Elbow grease and pull yourself up by your bootstraps, go powder your nose and put on your lipstick, and all of that. It was many women of that time, and you never heard them complain. Ever. And I admire that.

I think it's because so many of our mothers and grandmothers, and the generations who went before them, weren't preoccupied with how happy they were, or what they 'deserved' or whether or not they felt 'appreciated'. They just lived. And we're all looking back on Ingrid's life, and it's not 'poor Ingrid' but WOW. What a full, great life she lived. And maybe she wasn't always happy and maybe she had days of quiet desperation, maybe not. But mark my words: If 50 years from now, my husband holds my hand on my deathbead, and is brought to tears at the need to say goodbye.... then I'll have had a great love story. That's tender. That's a successful marriage.

If my children and grandchildren are touched because they have too many loving, fun memories to count that occurred in my home, where traditions and values were observed... then I know my marriage was a source of happiness. Not whether or not I feel romanced, doted on, even cared for. Commitment and living life together, going through the daily grind together come hell or high water is darn romantic. I'm changing my definition of romance. My definition of a happy fulfilled marriage is changing it's shape. That's been the case for a while now, but today especially I was reminded of what true love looks like.

It looks like a man sitting by the bed of his bride of 50 years, in tears, saying goodbye, with a lifetime of memories behind them.

In loving memory of Ingrid Dahlgren.

Athiests Don't Exist...

2009-09-23T23:17:00.000-07:00

My guess is that half of you are intrigued and half of you are pissed off, and ready to duke it out. No, wait, there are 3 groups: the 3rd group is smug and can't wait to see what unintelligent blather the girl is going to dribble out of her illogical mind.

Good! Just what I hoped for...

See, I have so many friends who subscribe to so many different religions, and so many who choose not to believe in a deity at all. They are my friends. They are all creative, beautiful, funny, smart, worthwhile, giving, opinionated, valuable, intelligent, amazing people. These words do not describe everything about them, they just scratch the surface.

I don't know why, but people who believe differently than me are the people whom I am most drawn to. I just have this thing in me that never wants to shut something out that is in opposition to me, or what I think or believe. I just believe it's wrong to do. I don't have to embrace the belief, but the urge to embrace all who are in opposition to me is so strong, I can't explain it.

Masochistic? Maybe. But it's never my goal to debate or convert these friends to my way of thinking or believing. I just want to hear their thoughts, their opinions, their stories. It just infuriates me when people can't let go of the 'thing' they hold so tightly to, and in the process, they lose relationships. For some people it's their religion, their politics, their beliefs, or lack thereof. Any of us can miss out on something vital and special by shutting ourselves off.

My Atheistic friends are my favorites. They are the most disgusted and downright insulted at the unintelligence of the mindless herding so many of us do into one faith or another. Like livestock being led to the slaughter. Yet, as I've asked so many of these friends (which has always led to some of my favorite discussions): Doesn't it take faith to say without a doubt, you do not believe that there is a God/Supreme Being? Because, as we all know, in order to say you don't believe in something, you have to first consider the possibility that it might exist. The mere possibility that it might exist, means you'd have to conceptualize it. If you can conceptualize it, then it is a possibility. If it is a possibility, you cannot say it does not exist, rather, that if in fact it does exist, you choose not to believe it. Which then, eradicates the Atheist completely. Atheists do not exist. Rather, they are Agnostic.

Furthermore, if there is the possibility that a God/Supreme Being might, in fact exist, even if you do not care, and chose not to concern yourself with such matters.... doesn't that take a great deal of faith? Faith that others are wasting their faith on a supreme deity? Faith in your belief, over any other possibilities out there? I just love what is spurred on by these questions. I do, it's always people wrestling with the totality of their life experiences in light of another's total life experiences. I think it's what we're supposed to do. There's no anger or condescension in it, just we as humans wrestling with our minds and all that is in us and around us.

So I stand corrected. My agnostic friends are my favorites, because I get to have this type of conversation with them. I gotta say, people who think they believe the same as I do can be kind of boring. Problem is, although I enjoy these kinds of questions, the stretching and challenging of my world as I consider it, not everyone else does. I can have a deeper love and appreciation for people after this type of conversation ensues, and some of them for some reason don't have the same capacity toward me. :) It could partially be because I was raised being taught about a man who lived and died with love being his mission, and how I should also live and die by the same driving force: Love.

You knew it, right? Oh, Gaawd, gimme a break, here we go... [they all roll their eyes and say] But first: my story. Raised by a hick and a hippie. (Gosh, that makes me laugh. If you know my parents, you will too.)

Both rebels in their own ways, they taught me the most valuable lesson: Do not gulp down what is spoon fed to you from neither pulpit nor podium. (Robin Williams' Dead Poets' Society rings out in my head: 'I will not go quietly into the night!' ) Which summarizes how I've done my life. I've never gone quietly into the night. And into the night I have gone. The night was meant in that poem as death. And I've been there, too. Death of my childhood faith. Death of my assumptions. Death of my crutch of religion. Death of God in my mind and heart. I knew, I mean knew that it was all a hoax. And if there was a God, I'd gotten screwed, so I didn't want in on his hallaballoo any longer. Yeah, needless to say, I've never gone quietly into anything, much less the night, (I'm sure to everyone's dismay)!

So although I was raised going to church, I had family on both sides who were various religions, non-religious, had some faith, had no faith, were democrat, were republican, and I heard it all. And my parents welcomed it. My mother used to tell me 'Don't believe it because they said it, go find it out for yourself. It has to be real for you. Otherwise it's useless. Doesn't mean it might not be true, but it won't be of use in your life.'

So I challenged, I questioned, I researched religions and science and philosophy and always felt a lump in my throat about how my heart felt. Not emotions, but the core of my being. I have always needed it to be real for me. I needed to be able to wrap my head around it, whatever it was. Even if it was the ability to wrap my head around why I would never be able to wrap my head around it... I needed that. I still need that. (That's why I chew on this crap up at all hours!) Because I care. So. Deeply. The core of my being wants to connect. With everyone. Especially with my friends and acquaintances whom I differ from in one way or another. Any maybe I'm too unintelligent for them or too full of feelings that they don't want slobbered all over them. I get it. I do. I've been there.

But have you been where I am? You don't know unless you read and find out. Find out who I am, and why I believe what I do. Maybe your final assessment, 100 blogs from now will still be 'fool'. Nifty. But maybe just maybe we'll have struck up a mutual fondness for each other. You might actually feel fondly about this chick who you know through a friend of a friend, or who is your friend.

And even if you believe that because you see me at church, or because of little blurbs you see on my fb or twitter that you and I are on the same page, hang on to your tootsie pops kids, cause you might be surprised. Do not define me by the judgements your mind makes when you read certain phrases and words on my facebook. Good or bad. You cannot encapsulate me by your own preconceived notions about me, any more than I can about you. We all have a million life experiences that bring us to our current place. I cannot possibly begin to assume anything based on your profile, your posts, your quotes, or even my encounters with you. There is always more to people than what you think you know... and every person has value enough to get to know.

I will not merely live, I will Flourish... I think we all deserve to do this. Which means we cannot stay in our comfort zones. Let's venture, shall we?

Peeling Back the Layers...

2009-09-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

Thank God for my mother-in-law. Saved by the bell of the sound of my phone...it got my focus off of the confusing and answerless journey I started to take as I finished up reading a series on a blog I've fallen in love with. To talk about politics. Which she is passionate about, and so I love talking with her about it...it was a welcome distraction for the road I was about to go down.

She is such a joy that I welcomed the discussion of issues other than the ones I wrestle with in my own heart and mind. I can handle the possible impending socialism or the warring sides of political dispute in this country with much more easy-going assuredness than I can get a grasp on my own issues at hand.

I've become enthralled with this world of blogging. I have always needed an outlet for my writing, and the concept (although I've been told to do so many times) of writing a book seemed so daunting. Even going to my little file, and sitting down and writing to the audience of a blank page seems so.... dry. As I blog, I get feedback, there is a sense when you send it out into the world that it is so much more real, it takes on a reality that allows you to consider it and chew on it, and even change your perspective on it, having seen it 'published' to the world at large.

So I read blogs. It is an endless source of inspiration and intelligent stimulation which I hunger for. And as I read this one blog, I am forced to realize that I need to go deeper. Not that it is a challenge for me. I think and feel more deeply than one ought to, and it just gets me into trouble, plain and simple. But as far as what I post, and how deep I go... I just need to proceed intelligently, slowly. I find that in an effort to seek a catharsis for my innermost thoughts and feelings, when I share it, it makes a bigger mess than if I would have just kept my mouth shut. Or. Rather. My fingers off the keys...

I will prayerfully consider what I would share with all of you. If it is not for the glory of something bigger than myself, than it is in vain. But you have to have a handle on things before you can objectively write about them... and I'm mulling so much over!

It's a hard day... school buses remind me of a schedule I no longer keep, housework beckons me and I am weak under my heavy excuses, and all of my hopes and aspirations seem too big for this one life to see to completion.

But God has a use for me, and it's not just to meander through life, this much I am certain. He has given me gifts and passions and experiences not just to give fashion advice, to critique things and people, or even to do the job of hair and makeup and styling... these are all fine and well, but those things I leave behind when I go on...

What I take with me are the qualities, gifts and characteristics which I had refined and molded by Someone with a greater perspective than I can ever grasp. Not what 'kind' of mother I was, but what eternally lasting truths I was used in instilling in those precious little lives I was given care for... not the cookies I made, or hours I volunteered in class, not even the skillful way I deal with a meltdown, or the creative birthday parties I planned and executed with 'martha-eque' finesse, which might very well give me accolades from others. But the eternal truths I was a conduit for placing into the minds and hearts of my little ones, now that is different. Because that's not from me at all.

Not what 'kind' of friend I was, but whether I learned from, and was truly changed by the times I was the worst friend, and if people learned more about God's true and real personhood through me, through me being honest with myself... Not what 'kind' of wife I was, but whether I was putty in the Perfector's hands, not wiggling, not resisting, not arching my back...but whether I am a wife that embodies the loving, living sacrifice of self to serve the better spiritual good of my husband, no matter the cost to myself.

People put labels on all sorts of things... she's a great cook, she's a fun person, she's a caring wife, she's a good housekeeper, she's a great mom, she's a pretty girl...she's a, she's a, she's a.... and they're all just opinions. And based on if you talk to my mom, your mom, your doctor, your neighbor, your aunt, your rabbi, your author of the book you're reading now, your children, your barista, you will find different definitions to what a caring wife looks like. What a pretty girl looks like. What a great housekeeper is. What a good mom is. Based on your family of origins, your life experiences, your personality, your judgements, your flexibility, your hurts, your age, your insecurities, your strengths, your weaknesses, your definition will sound, look, and be different from every one else's.

You have to have a 'true north', because every person, including yourself, will send you in a different direction (if only slightly) than every one else. Depending on your mood, your state of mind, your place of heart... this can change for even yourself. You have to have something to line yourself up with, something never-changing, consistent and ever-true. Not subjective. Not affected by variables. I want to be that 'kind' of person.... mother, wife, friend, human. The 'kind' that is not a kind, but is lined up with the 'true north'.

Random, I know, and not at all focused, I'm aware. But I'm working through it all.... the fruits of which you will see over the next several weeks, I'm sure.

Because I will not merely live... by the Grace of God, I will FLOURISH.

Lovely little Moses Lake....

2009-09-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

So I must say... this Eastern Washington thing is starting to grow on me... born in Seattle, raised from the age of 1 in the Twilight-famed Forks, WA... transplant to Southern California with a 4 year stint prior to that in the Bay Area...and then MOSES LAKE, WA?!

Whatever would possess a person, you ask? Warm weather like Cali in the summers...and Winter Wonderland in the winter...oh, yeah, that, and the love of my life got his dream job in the middle of this 'high desert'.

But wait, there's more! We're only 30 minutes from the Gorge... and I found a hairstylist that is every bit as good as my fab ones I knew and loved in SoCal. I'm close to all my friends and family, and yet far enough away to have my own life. My good friend from Forks, Shiy, lives 5 blocks down the street, and we've been a great support for one another, along with her sister, Jenna who lived with me for a time in the OC, and Christina who is her sister-in-law. So I have a few friends... nice.

There is a passable sushi restaurant, which is no Tuna Town in Huntington Beach to be certain, but it'll get me through my cravings for wasabi. Fashion? Well, kids, I'm it, so can't really blow any sunshine there.... nightlife? Not much, however---The Saucy Hog is FAN-freaking-tastic. It is a form of entertainment I cannot begin to convey to you...there are young 20-somethings that are all dolled up trying to be cute and coy and sexy which contains so much hilarity to me. (if hilarity is even a word, if not, I derived it from hilarious, and yes, I will use it) Next, you have the country-farmer-hick types who are there to boot scoot and boogie, and you've got the older couples who are there to two-step/swing dance. The owner sings in the band and his wife dances like a professional right up front. She's sporting an 80's type of look (that went out of style and now is back in, so she's got one up on all of us) and yet she dances better than those poor young girls who are trying their best to be 'sexy'.

So basically, The Saucy Hog (whose name alone renders me speechless, yet giddy) is my favorite place for nightlife. You can find small-town Paris wanna-be's trying to get with Farmer Brown's all the while dancing next to Ma and Pa cuttin' a rug. If I could get all of my friends who wouldn't be caught dead waiting in line at the hottest clubs in LA to this place, I don't believe that they'd ever leave. They would sit in awe, or bewilderment, either way they have no concept that life like this exists on this planet, and I love it. It's a feast for the eyes and better than any standup I've ever seen. I just get to sit front and center and watch the show. It's where all types converge!

And I must say they just opened up the 'Bistro'... Michael's Market and Bistro to be more specific, and it's my oasis. It's the yummiest, most gourmet food you'll find in Moses Lake. Scratch that, it's some of the best food I've had ANYWHERE... even with all of my favs from Nor and So Cal, and the amazing Bellingham bevy of fantastic food...it rates up in my top 5. I think. Let me really consider this...I love food...yes, top 5. I'll confirm it. They sell wines, wines, WINES that are fantastic and unique, and the beer is also a wonderful, eclectic array of choices. Funky things you don't find just anywhere... it's brilliant on the part of the owners. Way to know what your consumers are looking for. There are TWO count it, TWO shops attached, one which feeds my obsession with the Food Network/Foodie hobby, and the other, is a cool home furnishings store which is very modern, which isn't totally my style, but I think it's a good thing for this town.

The people are nice here. The weather is pleasant. The lightening storms are fantastic! (you never see anything but a flash of light when you're in the middle of the rainforest, and even then, the downpour usually blurs your vision) And of course I'm here with my husband who I love with all my heart, against all opposition and better judgement. Juuust kidding. He's my better half, truly. It's just that when he forgets that I'm his better half, that I get a little annoyed. I think we're both being sainted as I speak...

I digress.... The lovely town of Moses Lake! It's growing on me. It has a peace and is my respite, considering all of the insane travelling I do. I love that I have this simplistic little life here. I can go to Seattle anytime, I'm in LA monthly, I get my fill of city. I love this slower pace, it was a welcome and needed change of pace in my life. My favorite? A little junk store that will remain nameless, because it is my own special secret, and I am VERY selfish with it. (I find that people give things away here that are treasures by my standards!) In California I'd be paying an arm and a leg for peices that I get ready to defend and get very paranoid in the process of buying, as I'm used to having to wrestle away great finds from other savvy thrift store shoppers. I'm a vintage lover. btw. just a sidenote for your personal use.

And granted, I haven't seen all there is to see, or eaten at all there is to offer for restaurants. I'm willing to be swayed... (wink wink).

I just believe that no matter where we are, or no matter what our circumstances are, we should not merely live, but FLOURISH! Which I'm doing, slowly but surely in this suprising little town.

Diandra Ann Photography Blog: Fashion Shoot part 3

2009-09-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

Diandra Ann Photography Blog: Fashion Shoot part 3

Say Anything....

2009-09-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

As I'm sitting here, I'm flipping through the channels, seeing what there is to see...usually it's the food network or Rachel Zoe Project, both of which I'm equally obsessed with.

And I happen upon the 80's classic Say Anything. It's playing... right now...it's the graduation scene where he runs behind her just to get a picture with her. Hilarious.

I first watched this movie in 1989 on VHS rental tape in either my boyfriends' family room, or my own, I can't remember. But it was epic for me. The ache he felt in his heart, I felt in mine, too...for the boy sitting next to me on the couch.

The scene came where they're in the back of the car with the windows steamed up, and her breathing was nervous, he was shaking, they were awkward. It was a big deal, that decision...you could sense that by watching it. In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel played.... she says 'listen to the song, it's a really good song.'

Even as an innocent, naive jr. high girl who had made a vow to be celibate until my wedding night....I longed for a moment like that. Not the smashed-in-the-backseat-of-a-car-with-steamed-windows kind of moment, but the kind where two people make the big decision that they love each other so much that they only want to be with each other for the rest of their lives type of moment. I didn't care where it happened, but I knew it couldn't be done without a marriage vow, and it had to be real... but I knew I felt that way about that boy.

At the time, I didn't like the song In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, even though my boyfriend loved it. I don't know why, I just didn't love it. But only 5 years later whenever I would hear it, it would haunt me and make my heart ache, much like John Cusack's as he desperately held that ghetto blaster above his head with heavy-laden resolve. And it would always remind me of that boy... and I loved it. And the words fit. And I was sad that I didn't like it back when it was popular so that it could have been our song...but I loved it all the same. We loved that movie together, and that song was so integral to that movie.

We loved that movie together, because we both had our big-decision moment together, silly as it was...but that promise that boy made in the innocent moonlight that he would marry her someday, was all that girl needed to break that vow to God, and make it to that boy. In her heart, it was the vow of marriage...to never give herself to another, to only love this boy with all her heart and soul. I only say it was silly, because like Romeo and Juliet, we were torn apart (or so it felt at the time, everything is dramatized when you're 15) by our families... families that moved to a new town. He was told that he needed to be free, he needed to make new friends and not to allow me to tie him down at such a young age and I was told I was a silly, foolish girl who should have known better. And I agreed with my mother's admonition. Stupid, stupid girl. I made a vow to a boy who broke his, and followed the advice given to him.

Both sets of advice given to either of us did not necessarily serve us well, and going our separate ways while it shaped and molded us into who we are today, and we have precious, amazing people in our lives because of those experiences, were spent trying to get it right, and trying to make our lives work, yet all the while being speckled with that song which would always come on the radio... or any of the dozen other ones we loved together. Or that movie, which would show from time to time on t.v.... 'I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen...' and numerous other classic lines that we all know and love and quote so easily. (You're doing it now, I know you are!)

I bring this up and share this vulnerability with you, because regardless of my teenage angst over my first love, I have always been a hopeless romantic. And regardless of the romantic moments I had in the years that followed him, or the pains that I endured that followed those... I always felt there was something more. Something more like what I knew I had as a stupid, jr. high girl... oh to have that kind of love at 18. At 24. At 28. At 30. But never since 15. They say it's not possible to know what real love is at age 13, 14, 15... which were the ages I was when I dated that boy...but my heart would have argued differently.

And 16 years later... a message. A message that was followed by the most reminiscent and yet present and real love that I have ever had. It was as if time had stood still, yet the changes we had undergone had perfectly prepared us for being together, better than we would have been then...now. That courtship was followed by a proposal on the beach that we had our first 'date' at, a wedding that happened on July 5, coincidentally his grandparents' anniversary, and the anniversary to our own 'steamed window car moment' (sans steamed windows, or a car for that matter) But there was that promise....

The promise that boy made to that girl; that he would marry her someday....

And he did. And she walked down the aisle to none other than Peter Gabriel.... that song. That now tugs at her heart even more than it ever did before. Because an overtly naive and silly adolescent love can be real, and not silly at all. When it stands the test of time, and the battery of hurts and life's circumstances...it is very real. It's the kind of love that people can have at age 15, and it's the love that keep vows in tact until people are 90 years old and have weathered life's storms together.

I believe in love. I believe in a universe and a force greater than ourselves that wants us to love...to love each other even when we don't want to. To love our enemies. To love others as you love yourself. To love people first, things second.

Maybe that's why although I have dreams of doing hair and makeup and styling for the world of fashion and entertainment, why I love doing Wedding/Bridal Hair and Makeup Artistry most of all...

Because on that day, that woman is in love... all of her hopes and dreams and fears and love are all culminating to that one moment. To that vow. To that promise. And I get the distinct privilege to make her the most beautiful version of herself on that day, so that she embodies and radiates the beauty of the love and commitment she feels and vows to on that day. So that she looks in the mirror and sees the reflection of what she feels inside... special, loved, beautiful, radiant. What a gift! (Much like love!) She will look back on those photos when she is old and grey, and she will remember.... she felt as beautiful and as loved as she looked.

My charge for you this day, is to feel that kind of love! The ache in your heart, can't live without it kind of love. Radiate that kind of beauty! The kind of beauty that isn't gaudy or like a mask, the kind that really reveals you...And watch a movie or listen to a song that makes you ache for the greatest love of your life...don't merely live- FLOURISH!

don't merely live...FLOURISH

2009-09-15T20:18:00.000-07:00

I have this theory: If everyone in the world did what it is they were most naturally gifted to do, then there would be no need unmet. Think about it! How many CEO's of companies or lawyers are in the position they are because they wanted the income associated with it, or because they felt they ought to for some reason. How many teachers are in their jobs only because they were good students? What if that CEO had a gift for gardening? What if that lawyer had a gift for the attention to detail needed in the most amazing housecleaner? What if a bad student was gifted to teach in a way that really got through to those learning?

I mean, what if all the farmers on the entire earth were gifted as farmers... they could instinctually 'read' the soil, know exactly what it needed and why? And the result was a crop more bountiful than was ever reaped by any farmers who were simply in it because it was the family trade, or because they were the ones willing to take the cheapest wage. The world would not go hungry, because those farmers would be doing what they were born being gifted to do, and so they would feel joy doing it. People who experience joy have a sense of empowerment, the kind that makes you want to serve others and help them feel empowered, too. Maybe then the 'business' of farming, and food, would not be a business at all... it would be individuals doing what they are gifted at, and what they are passionate about. People who do that want to share it with others and don't mind doing it freely.

What if every person, in every job and position known to man, were doing it because they were gifted to do that job and passionate about it? My theory is that every need would be met, the world over. Money, profit, power and status would not be the goal any longer. Because everyone would be serving everyone else, and every one would be having their needs met. Individuals would be fulfilled personally by doing what they are gifted in doing, and it would be a constant cycle of give, give, give, and everyone would reap the benefits. You would have food to eat because the person producing it would want you to have it, you would have your house because the person who built it was happy to do it, you would have your children cared for by someone who was gifted with children, and YOU would have a wonderful gift to give all of those people as well, and it wouldn't matter if or what they gave you. You'd want to share it with them!

This is the world I will champion us taking action toward! Becuase I do not believe that life was meant to be survived or meandered through. I believe that we were meant to live life, and live it to the fullest. We should not merely live, but FLOURISH. Dig deep, be scary-honest with yourself... are you doing what you're gifted to do? My good friend Diandra said the difference between a job and a career is this: a job is a way to make money, and a career is when you'd do it for free. ( www.diandraann.blogspot.com ) She is doing her gifts... serving God, and being a photographer, and others are blessed and touched by these gifts. It was scary for her to take that leap of faith, but she's doing it, and being inspirational to others in the process.

In the world I want us all to create, people couldn't be paid any amount to quit doing what it is they are most gifted and passionate about doing. That is how I feel about writing, and doing my styling with hair and makeup, and my artwork with my cards. Those things you couldn't pay me to stop doing them. And I get such enjoyment from doing it for others, paid or not. I'd freely do any of those things as a gift to anyone who needs it. Do what it is you were gifted to do, and feel the real, deep, lasting joy associated with it. Not the passing happiness that changes with circumstances, but deep and lasting joy. The kind you want to give away! I want to strive for it. I hope you do as well. I will not merely live....I will flourish!