These are the days of our best life yet.  I was talking to our friend a few weeks ago about how parenthood can sometimes be like marriage.  I wouldn’t know because I’m not entirely there yet.. but the parts that stretch us further than we ever thought we could be stretched… the patience that tries to sink us deeper than we can swim, the triumphs that make us prouder but not until we’re on the other side… all part of these glory days that God has ordained in the midst of His great creation.  And so again, that’s why I say we’re living out best lives yet.  That- and we are currently somewhere in the middle of Nebraska and Virginia completing a 10-day road trip across my HOME.  side note but only because I know he’ll say something otherwise-Trey is quick to remind me that he is my home… but to be honest, I don’t actually feel that as strongly as he does UNLESS, we’re in my “home” with the rest of my family… in Letcher.  I’ll write more about that soon.. believe me, I’ve got TONS of pictures to share but for now just this other one in the story of

when marriage meets parenthood…

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I have spent months, chatting up with so many of you lovely people.  Not just the routine “hi’s” but intimate conversations that have allowed me vulnerability and every time we hear words like “Your story [fill in the blank]” our hearts do some sort of humble yet glorious dance in thanks that God chose us for this journey.  I used to read this verse in James about pure joy in the midst of trials, and laugh.  That was until you all.

I think this is where my friend would compare parenthood to marriage; the way that things just suck so badly, you have no choice but to laugh (and find the joy somewhere in between)!  Track with me- it’s like sharpie marker on a white sofa that you know you’ll never be able to remove or get out but you know you have to keep the joy because Jojo is still your kid, and gee golly she’s cute!  For us, it’s this infertility that tests your our patience for a bigger plan as we sit buried in question after question, doubt after doubt hoping at some point we’ll come out of our own “white sofa” but still keeping the joy because we KNOW there IS a bigger plan.

It’s the disappointments and “oh no’s” where all you can do is laugh!  And this we know well.  In a moment of insensitivity and guardedness, I snapped at Trey a week after our last transfer.  “Trey- why did you pray for our babies… you know if they didn’t actually implant, they’re dead by now.”  I laughed, but the patience and joy of marriage (much like I assume we’ll come to know in parenthood) superseded as my terrific and VERY understanding husband hid his hurt feelings in some welled up tears and placed his faith and hope a little deeper in our God because at the time I couldn’t.  Thank you God for Trey!  And here we are, 11 weeks later.  And thank God because I’ve found my joy again.  11 weeks and 5 days later.

Almost 12 weeks.  In case you’re wondering that’s somewhere around 75 of my big-butt-shots, 2 pregnancy tests (because clearly the first one couldn’t be right), 3 blood tests (just to make sure), 1 really awful night of what “they” call “morning” sickness (whoever “they” might be… “they” are wrong, by the way), and 4 ultrasounds and 1 really cool chromosomal test (more on that later).  ALLLLL to find out that after 2.5 years of infertility, the best way God could ever teach us about that “joy in the midst of trials” stuff I was just talking about, would be to entrust us with twins.

Behold you guys!  The Happily Ever Bresslers are adding TWO to their nest.  TWO!  Do you think that’s one for each year of infertility?  Or just double the blessings because of my husband’s noteworthy and very joyous faith that carried us out of that low valley of sharpie markers on white sofas?  God really did hear us (AND YOU), and now, we’re having twins! (p.s. in case you were wondering why I look a little larger than 11 weeks and 5 days, it’s because TWINS)

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I told my brother first.  Though we hardly talk any more, I feel stupidly connected to his sensitive side that in my mind brings me closer to my dad.  And then I told my sister-cousin– the one who paved a way for me when I had no idea I’d ever need it.  I texted my cousin who walks a parallel heartache, and along with her all the special people we’ve met along the way who are still walking their own heartaches and desires with a bravery that only we “get to” know.

BTW- my in-laws, and my mom, and my south dakota-mom all found out when we did.  The conversation went like this “Well, the doctor heard a strong and healthy heartbeat….” (insert screams and tears) “…and then she heard a second!” (insert louder screams and tears).  This all might sound familiar to you because it’s also how we told each one of you that has prayed on our behalf, reached out with sincerity and truly believed when we couldn’t, that our day would come.

We’ve been amazed at all our friends who have unknowingly said the same thing, “OH MY GOSH, I have goosebumps and I’m crying!” LIKE- for us!  What have we done to ever be so deserving of your love and support.

But there will be miracles.  There are miracles.

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There’s a passage in Scripture that for forever– like since I was 15 that I’ve read and reread, and reread again with such amazement at the power of God within… and I need to share it with you.  Mary is newly pregnant with Jesus and she goes to visit her sister Elizabeth (also pregnant). At the sound of Mary’s voice Elizabeth’s baby leapt in her womb; and she (Elizabeth) was filled with the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:39-55).

I get it now.  I totally get it.  We sat at our last ultrasound, tears of joy streaming down our faces as we watched our children “leap” in my womb.  Their little arms and butts wiggling like dancers, and I could FEEL God’s power within me telling me that I’ve been healed.

Maybe this passage had been preparing me for that ultrasound day all along…?  Because somehow it came so naturally and I did what Mary did; I prayed a silent but VERY JOYOUS prayer that sounded so much like hers in that moment with her sister.

My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.

There will be miracles, and here is ours that we’ve found in the joy when our own marriage met parenthood.

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There is so much more I want to say.  So much to fill in the gaps that I know so many of you are begging to know.  And I promise I will in time.  Trey wanted to wait to post this as long as we could which I completely understand.  And for those of you (THERE ARE A LOT) who have kept it a social media secret, we are so grateful!  We’ve tried so hard to be respectful to those that are in their own “sharpie on a white couch” moments.  I said earlier on as we’ve publicized our infertility journey that I would only share here to be sensitive to A LOT of people we knew before and that we know now because of our choice to be open… but I also know that in our quest to be personal we can’t possibly be 100% successful, so please, a gentle, subtle reminder to only comment here (and also if you want to know more, be sure to subscribe).  Please don’t be surprised if I delete your comment from my Facebook post.

We love you all!  We are thankful for you ALL!  AND we love these sweet and very healthy miracles.

I’ve missed you and your ways that pull me deep into an obsessive state of habitual organization and compulsive exploration for all things new.

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I thought long and hard of how I would start this first post of 2018.  Would it be a reflection of last year, or a mere collection of goals; you know, the imperative mission that some how falls through the cracks of heart, mind and soul as the year progresses through seasons of change both environmentally…. and emotionally….?

So I resolved to a simple “Dear January.”  You see, I wanted to acknowledge with every morsel that I could, this excitement that I have stirring at so much new to the normal of our lives.  With the months of grief behind me it’s so satisfying to return to the details I know that were so proudly founded by my dad: Organizer.  Planner.  Executor.

I’ve spent the last six days fastened to the novelty of a chance to use his hope and ambition that he so strongly instilled in me to move forward.  It’s what he would have wanted.

and so here we are (p.s. my mom is shrinking… pps. no she’s not… I grew three inches in 2017.  just kidding.)

I *almost* purposefully didn’t send out Christmas cards this year.  The thought of smiling in a family photo with out my dad just seemed wrong, lonely.  I delayed the annual investment in portraits because it felt uncomfortable and distressing to ask my mom to stand there… companionless.  But, the brilliant, Pinteresting, Proverbs 31-seeking wife made a commitment at the beginning of our marriage to take anniversary photos, every year.  Wellll…. Trey got a haircut from “not his usual lady” on anniversary number two and suddenly the delaying felt more acceptable…  Fast forward a month and we seemed a little more ready for this commitment kind of healing.

I often tell my clients that my most favorite part of my job (and also the meaning behind the name) is that I get to “behold” the love within each family.

We were not only ready for this kind of healing, we needed this healing.

This kind of healing, vital.

and so Dear January…

Thank you for the bountiful ways you are helping us through:

Emotional Healing

The hardest part in grieving my dad is doing it with my mom.  Some might think it’d be the easiest because we have each other, but it’s not.  I feel I have to stay strong for her and she feels she has to stay strong for me.  So in reality, we both fighting this internal battle alone.  In some ways, it’s harder to endure this with her than it was taking care of him.  I can’t fix it; he’s not coming back.

I spoke at my dad’s memorial service sharing these words, my mind and heart still circling the truth without any further musings:

My home doesn’t feel like home without my dad in it.  We live in this beautiful new house and gift from God but he’s missing.  It’s like a piece of me doesn’t know what home is anymore.  And for my mom, it’s like a she took her last breath with him on October 24.

There is this void that I could never in a million years explain to you, and you might not understand it unless you too have lost a parent.  I “lost” my dad.  I can’t find my hero.

Everyone tells me that it doesn’t get any easier; but it does get better with time; the sting a little less painful.  And they’re right; my awareness has changed as this hazy fog of grief continues to dissipate one day at a time.. sometimes one hour at a time.  I call that healing.

There’s this peace that comes in knowing he’s at peace.  Like I don’t have to keep searching for him because I know he’s okay.  His legacy is everywhere here– and this IS our home, because we can feel his love everywhere we turn.

And mom, I’ll never be able to comprehend the loss of a spouse… at least not in the next 60 years I pray, but we’re healing in these moments together of love and good cheer.

We kept saying through the journey of his care that we needed to take care of ourselves.  And we did, kind of.  But dear January, you’re giving us some very deliberate rehab.

Spiritual Healing

My dad died on a Tuesday night.  We were at church on Sunday morning.  We went to this quaint little church right down the road from us–one that my Dad called his (even though he never was well enough to attend) because he knew he wanted to…and so fittingly, we thought we better take/go with Mom so that we could find some sort of presence or word from the Lord in the immediate intensity of his death.  I’m so glad we felt called to go there with her and so thankful that I have a husband who cares to help her find her way.

Trey and I had been before but we miss our church home… like a lot; so much so that we’re going tomorrow, because, family and home.  But we’re here, and it’s January.  We need to build our community here now.

Mom has found her place.  And we need to find ours.  We’re beholding God’s peace in every place of worship we’ve encountered, but goodness why are we missing the feeling of home?

I won’t lie that I hated the idea of going to church after our first Sunday without my dad.  We were singing hymns and his harmonizing was missing.  The fog too heavy…too thick.

We got into it one Sunday morning… me yelling something like, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s too painful for me to go right now?  Can I just be mad at God for a little while?!!”

Because clearly it’s God’s fault that my dad is dead and that we still haven’t found a church home and that my body is broken and that my mind is unhealthy… clearly.

We’ve tried so many churches…and can I just say that having worked at a church adds an entirely different perspective when church hunting?!?  But we’re beholding every message from Him as whispers to my heart as He helps us heal.

We even went to a “Next Steps” dinner of a church plant.. literally RIGHT up the road from our home.  Is a church plant something we’re ready to step into?  I have no idea.  Are we trusting in an effort for spiritual healing?  Absolutely.

But January, and opportunity knocking.

Physical Healing

Our hearts have been broken by each negative pregnancy test (and there have been a lot).  We have spent so much money on ovulation kits and infertility meds that I joke maybe we should have bought stock in all things fertility.  The toll that it has taken on us watching more and more of our friends announce their pregnancies is no joke.  It’s this constant fight between happiness and envy that leaves me speechless.  Literally.  I have friends I haven’t spoken to in months because I just don’t understand; guess I should add relational healing here too…

My body is broken.  And yes, the depression and lack of care for myself over the last year has had a huge impact.  Literally and quite physically, huge.  I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but Paleo and running, and it’s day 6 and 5 pounds down and many more miles to go– we’re starting to heal.

Trey says the hardest part of infertility is watching my longing.. Then I’m thrown right back into a “God, why” moment pleading to make him a daddy…. but he already is.

In our innermost longing for a child to love, God has been pointing us to adoption; through the churches we’ve visited and even the people we have met.  And so, I don’t know if 2018 is going to dissolve this longing in the fruition of our greatest hopes for our family, but some how the decision to move forward in this process is bringing us so much peace in our journey of healing.  And your response to my last post and this announcement was a HUGE part of this.  I didn’t know adoption announcements are as heavily acknowledged as pregnancy announcements– seriously.  The healing has already started!

Our family will grow– of this we are so sure!

And so, in case you had to figure it out, I’m doing that one word thing…again.

Last year, I chose “me” and that was good– because in so many ways, I felt like I came alive last year as the woman God intended for me to be, caring, compassionate, patient, strong (all traits that I never thought I possessed until so many told me otherwise after watching me with my dad.)  I needed that foundation for 2018, so here we go.

My word for 2018 is healing.  There is so much encompassing this word, and most definitely not contained in these three realms I’ve just listed… There’s so much room for growth.  So much to learn in the process.

We mocked this saying so much in grad school… “Trust the process”  But at the same time, I know how well it works.  So we’re going to… and in the midst, heal.

ps. I have found a beautiful friend who has gifted me so much more than I thought ever possible with these beautiful memories of our new now.. Thank you Kelly Dierberger, eternally, thank you.  Guys, I’m sure you’ll see more of her in the future (if you haven’t already– my dad’s last birthday and the BYP rebrand.)  She’s so gifted and so talented, I just can’t sing enough praises!!

I stayed in bed on Christmas morning.  Like, for a long time stayed in bed; silent tears falling into my pillow.  Like maybe if I stayed there and avoided the presents and the kitchen to be cleaned, breakfast to be made that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I could hold on to my last Christmas with my dad a little longer.  That MAYBE THAT would be the one that would stay ingrained in my memories… but each silent tear left a little more salt on my face burning a little deeper the pain of my first Christmas without my Dad… EVER.

We sat in church on Saturday night…. The whole time (through a sermon about anxiety!!) I kept thinking “the last time I was here; my dad was here too…”  But he wasn’t.  I stood there singing such praises to my God, the one who really has him (and me too, I guess), and the bottomless pain feeling so profoundly deep was covered by this multitude of peace.  My dad- singing divine praises with the heavenly hosts at the celebration of the coming of our King…and I just sat there with that…and the silent tears.

After the service, a very loved and sweet, sweet friend so brutally but ever so gracefully warned me, “tomorrow morning is going to be hard…”  I followed that conversation with others asking how I was doing; “Is that your dad’s ring”  (because I’m wearing it like a new appendage taking his eternal love with me wherever I go…) And they were sweet conversations.  Ones that I was actually enjoying.  I’ve been avoiding everyone.  LITERALLY everyone.  I’ll be honest that I’ve seen names on my phone and very guiltlessly ignored such kindness and concern because I just don’t want to face the discussions that “it’s going to be okay” and “I’m praying for you” and “I hear you.”  I’m held in such special places by so many people.  Something that just like my dad, I’m humbled and moved even sitting here thinking about…

So on Christmas morning, as I laid in my salty puddle, scrolling through my phone (because what else am I going to do on the hundredth hour of my grief, I looked through my ignorance to your love.

I laid BEHOLDING the strength that so many are giving me to rise.  And by rise, I mean literally rise.  Rising to a kitchen that my husband already cleaned, to a letter that though wasn’t from my dad, was still on the tree, to a family who has embraced me in my little land of messy and plenty knolls of illness, and lastly but most importantly, a mom who needs me as much as I need her.

And so I replayed some of these precious moments from the days before in this season of healing, beholding the goodness that’s bringing me through this…

my super sweet husband loving on my goddaughter.  btw- mistletoeing makes every.thing. better!

and puppy snuggles…

and card games with these kiddies that are patching the little infertile tears in my heart.

p.s. rice crispy treats make everything a little sweeter.

and just so you know, Mama M.E. is still smiling…

and even laughing…

Christmas mornings feel better when you hear the laughs of children…

and just a little word to the WISE (wait for the pun…) I have a husband who chose to have his wisdom teeth (there it is) removed two days before Christmas therefore enjoying a puréed cinnamon roll… don’t let the men do that.  Just… DON’T. 

I’m BEHOLDING Christmas eve’s that still have wine, and football, and little boys fighting over iPads.

and especially beholding Christmas Eve’s where all actually does happen to be calm and bright.

We’re making it.  In feeble attempts to “do” Christmas, we’re making it.

We had dinner with a dear friend a couple of weeks ago… It was the first time since my dad was *really sick* that we’d done anything “out” with friends.  It almost felt foreign, but as I’ve sat in self-guilt over friendships that have drifted over the last year(s) in the aftermath of taking care of my dad, I reveled in the resuscitation of these dinners that have (for almost ten years) brought me so much joy.  Because in some of my grief, through the tears that have me utter words like “I just want my daddy..” I’ve also yelled to Trey, beckoning for time so that we can “friend” with our friends again.  I’m so glad he heard me, love you Baby.

So we “friended.”  We talked about future, and of course the past 3 months, and inevitably the current now.  As I talked… and talked a lot… I found myself saying how mad I was at my dad (because clearly it was up to him) to die in the thick of my favorite time of year.  Maybe that’s why I have this need to play jazzy BB King music that’s got so much mood in those trumpets that I’ll never be able to hear them again without thinking of my dad and how grinchy I feel despite “making it” … It’s like, “BRING ON THE CHRISTMAS, JESUS.  FILL THE ROOM WITH SPIRIT.. but just so you know, I’m still mad.  And um, yeah, I plan to be moody until this feels right.”  and then He whispers something back to me (through you all) that it might never be right, but at least it will be easier… so// BB KING and DUKE ELLINGTON and LOUIE PRIMA it will be, Michael Bublé will have to wait.  And so will Celine, and yes even… Mariah.  [ps can you sense my mood through capitalization?  If not, read that last part again.]

I blare this stuff.  BLARE IT.  Because, I’m making it.  Literally making.  We’ve hung those classy garland things that take up way to much room down in storage.  We even taught Jackson and Brayden a PG version of mistletoe-ing.  There’s a tree that’s decorated in our living room, and I think there’s even presents underneath it all thanks to my aunts who do everything in their power to help mom and I “make-it.”  So we are.

In this venture of “making it,” I’ve been organizing.  I like to think of organizing as part of my “phoneix” days, where I’m given hope as I restore my mental health and sanity.  When I say garland takes up too much room in storage; you have no idea.  Last year, that probably wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.  This year, I can’t take it.  So.  Our basement is in complete organization-seeking shambles.  Disarray I tell you.  But as if I wasn’t mad enough at the situation of timing, I found this.

I’m in this classical phase, heaving through photography.  Like– what does that even mean?  SO.MUCH.BLACK.AND.WHITE.  If you ask my clients, that’s probably always been me.  Maybe I’m just noticing the timelessness more.

Case.

And.

Point.

I’m thinking this photo was taken in the 1930’s.  1930’s!  My dad sitting on my grandfather’s lap in front of that Christmas tree with tackie garland (which by the way probably DIDN’T take up much room in storage and ps did they even have storage back then??) …resting in the arms of his father…

I also found this picture.  1. OLAN MILLS.  2. holy mullet.  3. that freakishly ugly doll that is part of the backdrop.  and 4. me; leaning into my daddy.  And while this photo isn’t my tried and true, highly preferred, classical black and white, it’s timeless.

I know not everyone does or didn’t have a great relationship with their dads… I didn’t always either… But there was time and I did.  And what perfect imagery, of a daddy’s purpose–my dad’s purpose.

Some of my last conversation with my dad included words like, “You made so many of my dreams come true…” to which he responded, “Well honey, that’s what Daddy’s do for their little girls.” God, I miss him so much.

So I’m leaning on his spirit.  His Christmas Spirit because he had so much of it to give.  And I’m relying on these timeless reminders that are helping us “make” Christmas just like we’ve done Christmas in years past.  We’re decking the halls with photos like these and beholding more timelessness:

Like the end of Christmas where Papa B has on his slippers and little boys are playing with new toys.

Beholding the letter on the tree– he wrote me one every year.  PS I LOVE how my dad never gave into the commercialized Christ-mas.  Unfortunately, I have a tendency to fall short.  Let that be a lesson.  Parents- write your kids letters this year.  They’ll be cherished long after you are gone.  I’m writing a letter to our unborn child(ren) this year.  Damn you infertility.

Beholding my super sexy husband and the way standing next to him makes me feel safe and comforted.

Beholding the ways I leaned into my dad long into adulthood so that I could continue to do it– even when he’s gone.

1. DO HAVE A PLAN

I mentioned in my last post— you know, the “woe is me” post that I had to write because I literally couldn’t even yet still felt guilty about posting because lawd knows I hate attention seeking posts…. but there I went… so yeah, about that last post.  The Real Simple feature that will probably never be published but absolutely should be: Our Plan!

We live in a four story condo/townhome.  When we found it, we were so positively smitten with the layout that we didn’t even consider what moving in or out would entail… that and did you read that part above that said FOUR MONTHS into our relationship?!  That’s when we decided that we BOTH hate moving together.  Like legit hate.  My husband, he’s a saint that yells on two occasions, 1-when the Dallas Cowboys are playing, and 2-when George Mason refs are being stupid heads.  His wife aka yours truly yells on every other occasion, especially if the occasion is a relocation involving furniture removal.  BTW-Don’t ask me where that comes from… I think maybe I just have a loud and very passionate voice….

All that to say, we learned fast that if we ever moved out of this place (which surely wouldn’t be in two years) we’d own it and we’d own it good.  So- back in December I started researching moves and all things good and glorious for a smooth transition.  I bought labels, a spunky new binder, stickers, colored duct tape, and even brand new boxes so that each crease would be ours.  And seriously, we owned it.

Someplace in this pretty green binder were inventories of every box; special codes for each room of the house… and someplace in there I’m pretty sure my husband knocked a few years off of his life as he patiently listened to me gently firmly remind him of the inventories and of the need to use the tape dispenser at a certain angle for the best tape efficiency.  seriously.  but my gosh- THE INVENTORIES!!!

2. DON’T FREAK OUT..just kidding

Seriously.  Go back and read my last post.  Freak out, we just learned that in doing so we needed to be ready to jump right back in.. which unfortunately meant that the tape probably wasn’t going to get used as efficiently.  And it also meant that the inventories that so clearly documented and categorized every over-valued possession were most likely going to get lost in the madness of my personal need to “own” this move.

Maybe a better way to put it is: choose what to freak out about.  For us- it was my cry uncle moment that beckoned my Trey to stay home and help me in areas that I had nearly given up on.  Thursday might have actually been the best day for us in a long time… and that’s because we were swimming in the depths of Phase 1, but we were doing it together.

3. DO INVEST IN OTHERS

And speaking of our favorite together times: being with our student min kids.  For me, I’m like, woah– these kids, I’ve watched them grow for the past nine years into these amazing people, and Trey he’s all, “there’s actually kids like that?!”  Yeah, THERE ARE!  If you’re not investing in the now generation- do it… if nothing else, for the strength of the young men and women.  No just kidding… kind of.  But seriously, these guys and gal, gift straight from H.E.A.V.E.N.

I posted this photo of Chris with just one of my normal, little, sappy collection of words on Saturday morning because he came alone on a Friday night to help Trey load the mostly inventoried boxes and large pieces into our pod.  p.s. PODS are the bees knees and the cat’s pajamas.

Good Morning POD Day #2! We’re waking up tired, and exhausted but so thankful and rejuvenated by the help and love of some of our church family! @cmitch_44 I’ve have the privilege of witnessing your growth from middle school to now (A SENIOR!!)– you are selfless, caring, extremely intelligent, and most importantly and notable, Christ-like. People: you need to be friends with teenage (I mean… young adult) men who will give up a Friday night, annnnndd a Saturday afternoon to be with you and help you move. #nevermoreblessed #bringintheothers #letsdothis

A post shared by nicole || beholding blessings (@nicolebeholds) on Feb 25, 2017 at 3:21am PST

Naturally, the next morning, when my Trey woke up feeling ill, we felt much peace knowing that our Topher was returning to help, and this time with even more of our favorite students.  Funny how as soon as they walked into the mix they said, “Nicole, do we get special IG posts too?”

How about a blog post?!

But seriously.  I did senior pics for this girl– and every time I think too hard about her, I get teary and lost in my prayers because of God’s gracious work in her life.  She’s the best kind of sweet and sassy all in one and did I mention that she is hands-down, the most beautiful dancer.

And these other guys.  Let’s just say when Katie saw them coming it was like a moment of bliss, hallelujah chorus blaring, fancy gold halos around their handsome faces, and the words, “Chris is here… and he brought two more Mitchells!!!”  I have so much to say about this entire family but those are personal words that I’ll handwrite to their parents in the coming weeks.   They’ll be words of thanksgiving, and gladness, and pride of the men they’ve become, and humility of the opportunity to have been a part of it.  They were bringing stacks of boxes down THREE AT A TIME.  And they were loading that pod and owning it so much better than I was with my stupid green moving binder and silly labels.

But I can’t forget Marshall.  That sweet heart and smile of yours that is contagious: the way you make us laugh with your stories of life and happiness, you are the real deal.  A rarity among your generation.  All of you are really….

And there’s no way we could have done it without them.  No way.

Plus- in the end, Trey and I realized that the only way we could actually love moving together is by being together, with them.

So a new post.  To the Bressler movers:

You are something fierce…I can see it on your faces.  And you’re loved something fierce too.  You are Christ’s hands to the least of these… even us.  And we’re humbled to get to know you because we’re standing in your shadows as you go catch the world with your brilliance and strength.  It’s these little acts of kindness that are going to carry you into a success that God is writing for you each and every day.  Don’t stop.  Go get it.

ps. thank you.

4. DON’T LET YOUR HUSBAND GET THE FLU

Who knew that the shirt my Trey wore in that picture would be an exact prophesy of the hours that followed when all his strength and health were completely #demo’d.  And who knew that me, standing right there behind him, would follow soon enough in said prophesy.  Let me tell you something, when your house goes on the market in t-3 days, DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT, get the flu!

Ain’t no body got time for dat!

But as if he hadn’t proved himself a saint already, he was surely about to on Sunday when my parents came over to help us pack the last of the last (of this round).  And he sure proved himself all over again today when he helped me load the rest of the pod, him talking in a whisper, and me, well… I plead the fifth.  I don’t feel well, okay!

—

5.  DO STAY TOGETHER

The oven is cleaner than when we moved in, and the shower door is actually clear as glass as it should be.  And my vanity has less than 2 hair products on it because yeah, I packed that crapola, yes. I. did.  So Trey is now walking around painting touch ups and sniffling the yucks while I dizzily write to all y’all from my transformed office with a fever of about 101.

And Dear Trey, the love of my life: those words of frustration that went something like, “BUT IT WON’T FIT THAT WAY” and “WHY WON’T YOU JUST TRY IT?!” and “YOUR DAD IS SO MUCH NICER TO ME WHEN I USE THE TAPE,” I know they weren’t truly ours, but just words of our exhaustion and infirmities.  They were words just buried in the brutality of our grievance: selling our first home.

But let me tell you this- I’d do it all a thousand times over; to be at home, with you.

Phase 1: Out.

…I searched my mind in that moment to find all the most encouraging answers; ones that would propel he to keep walking in good faith no matter how deep the obsta…blah blah blah…

Then I “liked” the post instead.

This morning I had a crazy bad dream.  Something about one of my biggest regrets while Obama was in office… not sending him a wedding invitation so we could get a congratulatory piece of paper signed by him and Michelle.  No matter political affiliation—it’d still be pretty cool to have.  I digress.  The stupid dream woke me up at 4am.  FOUR. FRICKIN’. A. M.

Naturally I woke up Trey.  Naturally.

“I had a bad dream that you left me because President Obama wanted to be friends with me…”

“Not gonna happen…” {rolled over and started snoring}

Was he talking about leaving me… or me becoming BFF with Mr. Obama.  {insert my shrugs and squints}.  Either way, I think I could handle the outcome.

So I laid there going through a thousand to-do’s in my head.  There’s a buzzfeed post circulating right now all about people and their lists.  Was that written for you?? {raises hand}

I have to pack.  Like, our house goes on the market in a month pack!  I have to market both biz’es.  ..and there’s the towels that have now been sitting in the washer for 2 days that are now, probably starting to smell like mildew.  And I’m behind in these posts.  Again.  And Sasha has this protruding, abscess that makes me cry if I think too much about it.  And it’s now 4:28 and maybe I should just fold the clean laundry that’s laying on the floor in front of the dryer.

…and Proverbs 31- why does she do it?

In case, you’re still sitting here reading and still wondering what Proverbs 31 is/says, let me enlighten you with this excerpt of the Spirit of Truth:

A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long.
She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places and brings back exotic surprises.
She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it, then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.
She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking.
She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor.
She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant, and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.
When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: “Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all!”
Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
Festoon her life with praises!

PROVERBS 31:10-31 (THE MESSAGE) emphasis mine

Just wondering, anyone else read that ticking such prideful accomplishments away like that checklist I was building in my mind at 4 am.

I had like, six, maybe seven on a good day.  Let’s be real, I know I should probably be humbler about it… but.  I’ve got SEVEN (since you know, today is probably the only day that I’m up before dawn… and actually, I’m probably not going to be making breakfast today because it’s an on-the-go kind of day).  SEVEN.  SIX AND A HALF.  And as someone who, just yesterday only counted three ticks, this matters.  {insert your cheering and applause} Thank you, thank you very much.

Listen, I was folding laundry at 4:31 A.M.  (while in my mind reciting and questioning the words that came to memory.  Convenient how they were these: “A good woman is hard to find…” and “The woman to be admired and praised is…”)

Before I get started with this—You.  Right there.  Yes, you.  You’re doing a great job.  That list you just made of Proverbs 31 “ticks,” throw it out.  I just ripped mine apart.

Because listen, I need the reminder daily that I’m ALREADY worth far more than diamonds.  Do you think there’s a reason the writer started with this?  Know your worth, dang it!  God made you and then He died for you.

This week, I’ve been overwhelmed.  I slammed dishes in the sink so that my Trey would know that I’m soooo over doing dishes this week.  Because clearly that’s a better way to communicate.

And last week, I didn’t make the bed one single day, because I waited to see if maybe he would.  Because clearly he can read my mind.

And yesterday, I worked for 9 straight hours on my business only to end the afternoon all melancholy and hung up because I didn’t complete any of my “diligent homemaking” duties that were on my list.  The dishes were still there, and the bed was unmade, so… why not?  There I went.  But dinner was calling, and Trey was wanting to introvert, and the nephews make us smile, and Lawdy my father-in-love was coming over and shoot if I didn’t hit the jackpot when I got my husband and John as my FIL!  …and does this doing-life thing ever take a break?!

Obvs, when I hit the pillow, I hit it hard.  …until 4.

And there I was, 4:31 a.m. folding laundry.  And sweet Robynn- this is why: “She senses the worth of her work!”

Look, we don’t get the recognition all the time, and we don’t need to keep track of it.  And when I say we—obviously, I’m talking only about “me.”  But God, the one who created us; He knows our hearts, and He knows that life isn’t easy!  His life sure as heck wasn’t, look how it ended… right?  But He also knows, what we’re doing, even if I am just scraping by… it’s worth something.

It’s so easy for me to go through this “list” pre-kids, wondering how in the world if I can’t do it all now, how I’ll be able to do it all then.  But what’s the point!?  No matter how hard you’re I’m striving to be this perfect woman (which by the way there is no perfect woman), the one who is praised at the end is the one who fears God; the one who respects His sacrifice for us.  Trust in His words.  We are worthy and our work has worth.

So… it’s now 6:24.  I folded our laundry, did some photog-ing stuff… and am left with this passage after all that contemplation and realization.

These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living.  They are foundational words, words to build a life on.  If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock.  Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit—but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock.

But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don’t work them into your life, you are like a stupid carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach. When a storm rolled in and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards.

MATTHEW  7:24-27 (The Message) emphasis mine.

—

in case you missed it, we’re building our life in this new home currently under construction.

I guess it seems fitting to build it on these words, a solid rock.

I had a friend who did this, buried a bible in the foundation of her home.  When she did, I always told myself, I would someday do it too.  There’s something so unbelievably humbling about the experience.  Submitting all to Jesus.  We each took the Bible and wrote in it our prayers of thanksgiving and sovereignty for the future, our future in this home together.  And then we held hands and prayed, our voices echoing in the newly poured walls of home.

It amazes us from week to week how we see such change.  I spend days thinking that I’m never going to get “there” wherever that might be, while in these weeks that drift by transformation is occurring.  What a parallel, this from that!

I never thought I’d be so excited to tear down trees, breaking down nature like it’s mine.  ..hah! Oh the irony.

Every time we’d visit the home site, Trey would say “I just can’t see it… among these trees… where is the house going to go?!?!?!”  This was the moment he saw it.  He cried.  and then I did too.  and then we were one big sloppy mess.

In love all over again and beholding this life that doesn’t always seem like a gift… but is.

It means I must not have offended you when I spoke my mind concerning the oversupply of new years posts about change and refocus and new “things” and “stuff.”

It means you’re back to see what a year all about “me” is really going to look like..

It means that HOPEFULLY I’m not a selfish person and you just want to make sure.

…or something.  (if you have no idea what I’m talking about start here.)

So here it goes: 3 Reasons I NEEDED to choose ME!

1. 2016: It is what you I make of it.

I was stunned at the amount of posts and letters I read identifying 2016 as CRAP.  Pure diarrhea crap.  Like the really stinky, burn your nose kind.  please excuse the detail if you have a weak stomach.  My apologies.

Grief is a real thing and it’s not just experienced when someone dies or when we go through trauma.  Hence “Good Grief” when something bad happens.  The 5 stages are a real thing: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  The skinny on me is that I struggle with these on a daily basis.  I haven’t addressed it much here and I know that needs to change.  I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I refuse to take meds because I convince myself that I can handle life without them (that and the last time I took meds it ended really poorly–another story for another day).  Ask my husband he may disagree and say I need them from time to time, but he is also my biggest supporter, soooo… yeah.  BTW– this decision is not one I would ever encourage for everyone or just anyone.  

Ask me about denial– “How are you?” asks a friend on Sunday morning.  “I’m fine!” “We’re great!” “Doing well.” Oh!  And ask me about how I’ve turned from an extrovert into an introvert.

Ask me about anger–no wait.  Ask my husband because my anxiety manifests in anger aka no. patience. for. anyone.

Ask me about bargining– “If only I’d done _____ differently!!”

Ask me about depression and how my anxiety will throw me into bed for days because I just give-up life until I can conquer something to be proud of.

Ask me about acceptance.  OH WAIT!  That’s what this post is about.

2016 had me walking away from school counseling.. you know, that degree that cost me tens of thousands of dollars that I don’t regret one bit, but will probably not use anytime in the near future.  It had me revamping my photography business.  Entrepreneuring with Dr. Rodan and Dr. Fields. Seeking fertility treatments.  Taking care of my parents who take turns going in and out of the hospital.  Supporting my husband and his family as we grieved the deaths of Aunt Carol and Papa.   All things that I won’t lie, came with EXTREME anxiety, but things I wouldn’t trade for anything because God was and IS moving!

And that’s when I discovered that 2016 is what you make of it because for each crap-filled day I laid in bed, I can now go back and pinpoint at least one joy that accompanied the bad, the awful, the stinky.

Moving forward, everything stems from this one decision: 2017 will be what I/(ME) make of it!

I can’t claim to know or understand what God is doing in the moment, but this I know, “at the right time, He will lift me up,” (1 Peter 5:6).  Always has, always will.

2. Transformation

Isaiah 41 (from the Message translation) is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible.  Why?  Because I think it’s a brilliant metaphor of rising from the ashes aka a bout of anxiety when it strikes depression like a 16 pound bowling ball.

Things like “Sit down and rest.  Recover your strength” or “Gather around me, say what’s on your heart!”

Parts like “Who did this?  Who made this happen?  Who always gets things started?  I did.  GOD.  I am the first on the scene.  I am also the last to leave.”

“I’ve picked you, I haven’t dropped you.”

“I, God, want to reassure you.”

“I’m transforming you.”

“But I’m there to be found.“

My beef with #oneword is this: Though chosen, to view life through the lens of one word, is limiting.  And I APPLAUD my friends who are able to do it.  Just like 2017 will be a choice to be what I make of it, it’s a choice to BEHOLD (see what I did there) the “beauty,” “peace,” “joy,” “simplicity” in every.single.thing when maybe the moment isn’t right for it yet.  MAYBE God hasn’t started the transforming yet.  MAYBE God isn’t leaving yet.

And I think that when we label our year ourselves, we’ve done a great disservice to the transformation God is doing inside of us now!

FYI I’m talking to myself there… and FYI I know this won’t apply to everyone, but this is about ME.

I feel like in that great disservice,  we’ve I’ve also made it more about me and less about HIM!  There’s something in scripture about that too…

This is the assigned moment for Him to move into the center, while I slip off to the sidelines. (John 3:30, The Message)

Without question, I believe that it’s in the sidelines where we experience the good, the bad, and everything inbetween, that His greatest work is done.  It’s our job to watch these “problems” that 2016 threw at us and that 2017 is bound to chuck our way too, and turn them into opportunities (for the transformation).

3. Dream big

Our AMAZING Worship Director Bryan preached last Sunday… his sermon served as inspiration for this post, but also as a call to rise to 2017 bigger and better than I might have otherwise.  Through what he spoke, I was also reminded of a term that a college professor used that I’ve never forgotten.

Don’t be a FAT Christian.

Don’t go to church on Sundays to be fed the Word and then spend the week not exercising it.  We’ve got to take what we learn “in there” and live it “out there;” but do it with the intent that God has bigger plans that will be revealed in their own time.  Believe it.  And here’s where I caution you:

Don’t limit the work He is doing based on current circumstances.

school counseling.  Bigger plan.

photography.  Better plan.

children.  In His time.

Go bigger.  Go better.  Expect bigger.  Expect better.

Me.

Here’s one example: We had a beautiful wedding documentary to go along with our wedding video.  The closing words had “me” talking about a home with a big open porch and land that we could look out at as we watched our family grow and play… God transformed a lot quicker than we ever thought and here’s where we were on the sidelines of 2016: I’d like you to meet our newest roommates beginning in May.

that’s my dad and mom… standing on our 2.5 acre lot in Fredericksburg where we are building our dream home complete with an in-law suite.

We have an opportunity to take care of my parents in their golden years, to spend time with my dad hearing his hundreds of stories about his days in Korea and his experiences installing power lines throughout Montana.  We have this opportunity to have my mom help us with the grandchildren she is dreaming up and praying up for us!  We have this opportunity to love on them like they have us.

But we I wouldn’t have EVER seen the circumstances of 2016 as “gifts” to bring “me”/us to this triumphant time where God is allowing ME to recover my strength.

 and I know that in this we have a bajillion things in store for us… packing up our home, packing up their home, Dad’s continued cancer treatment, Mom’s unexpected and sporadic health crisis, our infertility, leaving our church community, leaving Trey’s family, selling both homes…so. much. in. store. …but the me in “us” is dreaming so big because of how God is using this time, the here and the now to transform me during every trial- the good trials and the hard trials.

Behold: 2017.  A year about ME.

It’s an exciting time for us this week… we break ground on Tuesday!!  Check out this video (and watch as I almost eat dirt) explaining what will happen on Tuesday.

And I suppose that’s why as I start this post, I’m already overwhelmed by the fact that I’m days late in finding my #oneword.  1- because at some point, setting new year resolutions changed to setting a New Year WORD (just one) and 2- because I’m nervous that anything I write will get lost in the 2017 WORD “movement” among all the other writers and bloggers that are claiming their own originality in said “movement” blog posts (p.s. to my blogger friends out there, please don’t take offense to that..)

But seriously, is there anyone else completely overwhelmed by the outpouring of the “Welcome 2017” posts in blogosphere world?!

It’s like somehow we’ve all forgotten that with each new year comes a freshness and newness that is begging to be utilized.  And for planners like me that go insanely disorganized come June, the regrouping that January offers isn’t just an opportunity, but a necessity–so why not join in and write about it.

The thing is, unfortunately what I’m finding in all of these “original” posts is one common theme: 2016 sucked.  It was awful because “my dog died,” and “I left my job,” and “my dad has cancer” and “we lost the computer” and “grief is hard.”  Goodness gracious people! …But don’t forget though that I am right there with you!

(…and p.s. as a counselor who struggles with anxiety and depression and often times lives in her own “woe is me world,” I do have to add that grief is important…in moderation.  Carry on.)

In the process here is what I’ve learned:

We all know that with each year that passes we go through the same heartaches, hardships, trials…and somehow those are what we are left with rather than the unseemingly lessons we’ve been taught through the tribulations.

That needs to change!  We jump to the next thing without embracing the current that will ultimately propel us to move-on.

What I’ve found is that One Word 2017 is supposed to make up for all “stuff” 2016 left behind and for the rejuvenation that 2017 is offering.  One new blogger friend stated this: “A Word-of-the-Year is a lens through which I can view my real life.”

Soooo….

Let me rephrase that in the way that I read and interpreted it: My life- is now summed up in one word?! For the WHOLE YEAR?!

NO.  EFFING.  WAY.  (I can say effing, right?! It’s culturally relevant.)

Maybe I’m just frustrated because of the pressure that One Word and New Year Resolution standards have me living up to.

I sit here reading so many of your beautiful and Spirit-filled words that bring inspiration and hope.  And they have me yearning for more, begging for more of Jesus and His infinite plan for us.  And like everyone else, I go back to 2016, and December, and how I was crying out MERCY!!  “Mercy” maybe that should be my word.  And shoot.  Here comes the anxiety!

—

I’m going to preface this next part:  Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for my husband, his commitment, and his job that allow me to stay home and be the best wife I can be (all while folding his laundry and doing the dishes after the breakfast that I make him).  It’s seriously a privilege and one that I will never take lightly; especially considering that we don’t have any children yet.  I get to blog because of him, and I get to run my own business with passion and zeal because of him, and I get to partner with 2 of the world’s most renown doctors, because of him… and Him.  So yes, I’m filled with gratitude to be living my dreams in so many wonderful ways.  BUT it’s hard work.  MERCY.  Me.  Preface complete.

My cousin posted this video on facebook earlier this week:

I may not be a stay-at-home-mom yet, but I get it.  ..and I’m just a stay-at-home-WIFE

So are you ready for my word?  After all of that?!

Me.

…and you may read that and call ME the most selfish human being ever…but I’m not lying at all when I say that it’s needed.  I could join in with others who have claimed, “joy” and “hope” and “peace” and “trust” (because there are a lot of you..and that’s AWESOME, truly).  But for ME, I need to take the time and focus on this life in the here and the now among all that house-wife BUSY, to embrace the lessons learned through the last year and grow from them before jumping to the next.

Scripture is not off in the least:

So be content with who you are, and don’t put on airs.  God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time.  Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. (emphasis mine.  1 Peter 5:6-7, The Message)

Trey’s “anthem” verse and mission is this:

I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13, NIV)

Think he’ll share his mission with me?

This is the first part in a two part series about self-care.  Read Part Two Here!

Also- because self-care is so important, I’m doing a special R+F give-away to the first 2 people to comment on this post with helpful hints and tips of how you take care of yourself.  One way I do it is with a little pampering, free facial anyone?

See, I’ve been missing from here for a month, and before that, another month. And I hate that. Life’s been hard for us, for my family, and it’s been busy and demanding, and stretching us in every single direction. And like some hipster, I’m sitting here rolling my eyes saying, “I.LITERALLY.CAN’T.EVEN.”

I can’t.  Because my dad has cancer.  And our infertility threw me in the hospital again.  And it’s like the busiest time of year for a photographer.  And I love it, and it’s my saving grace.  But then I accepted that sub-counseling job that I had to cut short by two weeks because I literally couldn’t even.  And my mental unhealth has been creeping in while my Jesus is fighting hard for me to feel the simplest glimpse of his peace, and I just keep asking myself, are we making it?!

We made it through my dad’s 4 hour surgery, and are still chugging along in our own little familial pain.  We made it through the last of my 2016 sessions and delivering photos and cards in time for Christmas (although that was easy because gifting families with an uninterrupted hour to love on one another is kind of my passion because of how our own life demands dedicated time to just breathe and to love and to be loved).

We barely made it through the school counseling position that was the one last thread that had my “controlled” anxiety sewn together until the unwraveling of everything else had me crying uncle making that the first thing to go.  (I won’t talk about the  failure that I faced realizing the kids and parents that I was leaving behind after only 3 weeks).

And we made it to yesterday– the day we’d been counting down for; when we could finally get out of NOVA to spend time with family and celebrate a beautiful, God-blessed and written union, and to reconnect with one another without having to cut it short for someone else (which we are happy to do and would drop anything to do… but we needed this…)

But yesterday.  Also the day, when somehow we forgot my computer (that I so embarrassedly called a small appendage to my life) in the security line at TSA.  Thankfully my husband discovered it right as we sat down in seats 12B and 12C with little leg room and the claustro-aero-phobic mania ready for battle…

My top 1000, Army 10 finisher, sprinted to security with slow, little, uncoordinated me deplaning and rushing to customer service to try and rebook our flight (this after I already rebooked because of ORD and it’s proceeding reputation of weather-related cancellations– and oh yeah, polar vortex).  

Ask me why I rushed.  Go ahead.

“Ma’am, please do not approach the desk yet.  I’m not ready for you yet.” she was eating a bagel.  with cream cheese.

“Okay.  NOW, now I’m ready for you.” p.s. she had cream cheese and crumbs on her mouth.

“I’m sorry ma’am, the only flight I can rebook you on is out of Reagan and you’re going to have to pay for a taxi to get there because this is all YOUR fault.”  Thank’s lady– like I hadn’t realized that already.

“You’re going to have to go through Chicago and will arrive in Dallas at 6:45.” <rolls eyes>

“Shoot.  I just rebooked out of there.  Do you have any information on the weather?  Like, in your experience, do you think the flight will be delayed, because we need to be there by 7:30?”

“Well ma’am, I’d just like to remind you that this is YOUR fault and your only option.  We have nothing else.  Nothing at all…” Now that was just rude.

“Are you okay?”  I asked.  She looked at me in disbelief.

“No seriously, are you okay?”

“Uhhhh…I’m okay.. It’s just that this is your fault and I’m not in Chicago, I don’t know what the weather is going to be like, or what it is going to do to your travel plans.  But this is your ONLY OPTION.  So since this is your fault, I would suggest you pay for a taxi and go to Reagan.”

“Okay…Well..you’re being unbearably rude to me right now.  I already know this is my fault.  And I’m here trying to be kind and patient, when I just lost a small appendage of my life.  And all I want to do is catch a break.  But clearly, something must be wrong or bothering you, so maybe I should help you first…” <insert my ringing phone>

“I got it!” Okay. battle one. WON!

“Mrs. Bressler, it looks like I do have a DIRECT flight leaving here in about an hour, it’s one gate down.  There is only one seat left and the other is standby.  But if you aren’t able to get onto it, come back and see me and I’ll try and put you on the flight out of Reagan.”  p.s. why don’t we call rude people out more often?!  Why don’t we take the time to see the reasoning behind ugly behavior?

Trey paced and I giggled.  Did we really just find my computer?  Last month, my brother and sistil (that’s what we call each other) left their iPad on a flight and unfortunately it was not recovered.  So, after a successful plea for prayer on facebook, I found it fitting to respond with a selfie.  Trey was less than amused.  Exhibit A.

When the NICE United employee, said “Sweetie, you’ve got yourself a seat… and guess what, it’s next to your husband!”  I jumped pretty fast and pretty high.  Because we actually made it.

We made it!  And we literally.could.even.

And so I’m beholding that tiny JOYS that this season is bringing us after what’s been a long couple of months where His silence was teaching us and molding us (reasoning still TBD).  But we’re beholding.  We’re beholding Jesus’ peace when everything seems to be going against us.  We’re beholding what matters most- not the small appendage but the fact that He’s still listening to us.

And we’re beholding the fact that we’ve made it.

We’ve made it to this time where we can pause and celebrate and just breathe in some joy and breathe out some peace.

A few little gems from last night (you know, since we made it on time)… p.s. I left my camera at home.  I miss it.

We dove into our “us.”  I think a lot of people thought that we were crazy.  Seriously, I had just gotten out of the hospital after my mental health was so far to the unhealth.  {side note: why do we refer to it as “mental health” when we all know that it really means “unhealth”… I digress.}  But we dove in.  We dove into the love word so quickly that literally minutes later I was showing him my “rings to show mr. bressler (not his dad)” pinterest board.  We dove in so deep that his parents had some conversation with him that made him cry {I can say that now, right, Babe?}.  We dove in so deep that we had the venue booked before I had the ring.  We had the house before the wedding.  We had the cohabitating before the marriage {more on that later}.  We had family disputes that in some ways still have healing relationships.  I think that’s what you call diving in…and taking the others with you.

I’ve learned in my {days away from 30} years of precious life that I have a thing for diving in… and while my husband not so much, he’s ever so supportive..and also probably ever so crazy for diving in with me because sometimes it happens to be ice cold water.  And when I do it, I do it hard, I do it fast, and I don’t look back.. I don’t need to because I am sure, and most of the time, I am confident.

I am most confident that the deepest I ever dove was when I decided not to break up with Trey a third and final time, but to let him kiss me in that chilly movie theater.  I am most confident in our home, in our family, in our faith– and so for as long as we are together (which is into eternity), he’s now diving with me.

Here’s our latest dive!

Okay- wait.  We’re not diving into Kate & Oscar (who are adorable by the way)…. look again.

She’s back.

I think by diving in– I’m living the dream.  I went back to old blogs, ones that I wrote the first time I dove into this passion of mine… one of which said that I would be a successful photo biz owner by the time I was 30.  Folks- guess where diving in has me?!

home.

This summer, I’ve been spending most of my days behind my mac editing some of the most beautiful smiles ever, beholding.  Beholding that this has been a dream for oh so, soooo long.  Being His child first and foremost, then his wife, then this writer me–other posts will be made public in time… and this “photographer.” {p.s. Trey has turned photographer too.  more on that another time.}

And yes, the people that we drag along with us maybe not entirely directly, but from afar are asking all sorts of questions:

What about your Masters degree and counseling?

What about the finances? (one of my favorites was the blunt one– do you make good money doing that?)

My absolute favorite though– will you still move back to Nebraska?

I’ve dreamt for so long of the days where I can dive in deep to taking care of my husband, of our home, and to do it all while living out my other passions of writing and art and faith and family.

So here’s what I got for the ones we drug into to water with us:

My masters degree is something that I will treasure and own for as long as I live.  The education is one that has shaped my adult way of thinking– being culturally fluent, socially just {things that make me long for a better America than the crazy picture that Trump is painting– sorry had to throw that in there.}  This degree wasn’t about “school” at all, it was about people.  And someday, when our kids are in school and we decide it’s a good time, I may pursue it again.  But right now– I pursue people, these other ways.

I’m pursuing them as I talk to them about their beautiful families, as I encourage them through a witness of their commitment to one another, I affirm those family values– and this deep diving keeps the list going.

I pursue people (pretty cool high schoolers to be exact) when we host dinner and life groups every Wednesday.  We mentor these kids with their own bold dreams and wild hearts.  We laugh with them and let them know we are here for them… (and yes, I guess then my other degree comes in handy too…)

I pursue my husband when he walks in the door and I have dinner made and on the table while wearing my apron that says “world’s greatest wife and cook” and drying my hands after doing the dishes before walking upstairs to our clean bedroom with a made bed and absolutely no clothes on the floor…. …and I kiss him and say, “don’t get mad, the dishes are still there (for almost a week now), and I forgot to make the bed… and oh yeah, I’m still in my pajamas because I didn’t shower……{blah blah blah}.”  But I’m here and I’m here for him.  Did I mention what a rockstar HE is?!

And the finances– what a blessing to be able to stay at home now, even before our kiddies come.  What a HUGE blessing to have Rodan+Fields and Beholding You Photography bringing in extra income.  But seriously, is that really your business anyway?  It’s a decision that Trey and I made, together, ALONE– diving into our trust in God’s provision.

and Nebraska– would you know it that I JUST turned down an opportunity (what would have been my dream job) to move there–after 9 YEARS, to stay here. WHAT THE WHAAAA?!?!!  I think Trey’s mom would have dropped to the floor and hung around his ankles to keep us from moving, and my mom would have packed boxes (her own boxes) to join us and start the house buying process {because it’s more fun when you are buying two}.  But after prayerful consideration and what God is doing with our lives here and now, we decided this is probably the deepest we are diving.. for now.  Someday, Mid-westies, someday.

and there you have it.  I’m the stay-at-home writer-worker wife, I’ve always dreamt of being.  and I love it….

now– what to dive into next….. {don’t worry Trey, just kidding….kind of}