“Note to self:”

Note to self:
“You crave the deepness/depth of intimacy, but you settle for the surface of mediocrity”
September 15th, 2015

This was a note to my 30 year old self when I asked God to review my heart. The truth of that shattered all the assumptions I had made of myself. I had settled so much for the surface of purpose, people, and passion. Motivation wasn’t enough to keep me grounded into where I needed to be.

Depth.
meaning.
realization.
purpose.

It was true, I craved the depth of things I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the work of my pride. If you would’ve told me we would be in the middle of a global pandemic & I would be here again, redefining what it means to be me again, I would’ve laughed in your face. 

A cycle of disappointment begins to give the illusion that mediocrity is more than enough. That it isn’t as empty as it seems. We desire such greatness, higher mountain tops, top recognition and applause, but we lack the consistency of disciplining our flesh to guide our boundaries.

Who or what defines the person you want to be? Is it sculpted into a repetition of sacrificing momentary satisfactions? Or do we “pick up again” when we’ve now realized we need to be realigned? 

We want to change.
We are motivated to change.
We need to change, but there’s always a glimpse of tomorrow giving it’s excuses. 
And then the guilt sets in. Seven months into 2020 and our motivation is just as blurred as the days that come and go.

There’s momentum & then there’s sacrifice.
Momentum has to be built by outside circumstances.
Sacrifice is built by our own choices no matter what the outside circumstances may be.

We walk this thin line between grace and authority, but in that comes the sneaky halt of complacency. So, here is my letter to you, the one reading this, fighting for that second wind of “motivation” to get moving-

Darling woman,

Give yourself the sacred space to discover what your soul needs. Be gentle with the roles you choose to play. Forgive yourself for the expectations you assumed you’d meet. Discovery often times doesn’t end in a destination, but a transformation along the way. Redefining who and what you allow is embraced. Breathe in the beauty that you are already made of. Crave depth, fight for it, work towards it relentlessly because mediocrity was never meant to even enter your vocabulary. Understand it’s not just about loving yourself, but rejoicing however far you’ve come no matter the route. You are far more than just worthy, you are destiny in the flesh.

“If you don’t feel, you can’t hurt”

I’m almost 100% sure that we can all agree the last 6 months of 2020 have felt like a perpetual tidal wave. We are continually bombarded with all of the realities of darkness, sin, heartache, injustice, and incomprehensible actions of our fallen world. As a mother, I felt like the last month took every ounce of surplus I had within in completely out. I found myself so overwhelmed that it became paralyzing. I couldn’t think without anxious thoughts leading me down various rabbit trails. I found myself carrying the weight of so many unnecessary feelings that my body began to physically ache. Where do we even begin with the clean up of the worlds chaotic mess?

We begin with sitting at the feet of Jesus, always.

We begin by silencing the noise of pain & reach for the peace of Jesus.

We unplug from “feeling” to falling before Jesus, again and again.

I’ve always had this fear of feeling too much. Most women are told that they are “too” sensitive and their feelings are not valid. Because if we can’t feel, then we can’t hurt, right? Wrong. The more we sit in the deceiving concept that having it all together is where it’s at, you about to be at the wrong place a the wrong time, ALL THE TIME! Feeling isn’t always properly portioned , poised and positioned in the way we’d like. We hide behind countless filters and pretty words. To feel, really feel, and take it in for what it is takes the fall of our pride. This photo of me is definitely not the most glamorous, it is however, one of the most meaningful to me because it portrays what we really was. I was overcome with emotion in the midst of attempting to understand just what in the heck was happening all around. Many know that Giann had a pretty severe MS relapse about a month ago and it was one more thing to consume another part of my emotional stability. WIfe, Mom, Mentor, Friend, Leader & all the other twenty -thousand hats that we wear finally coming to a halt.

Where was my grace? It was waiting for me but I was too consumed with coming up with a life altering way to save everyone in the world.

Where was my peace? It was steady in the hands of Jesus but I was too caught up in how to hold my IG feed together so nobody knew I was crying myself to sleep.

Where was my confidence? It was delicately kept in the promises of his word but it made more sense for me to attempt to hide my feelings till they disappeared.

You need to feel.

You need to hurt.

You need to mourn.

You need to bury.

You need to fight.

You need to choose to be refined in the pain, not just known by it.

Wholeness is chosen and recited day after day, in the mundane and in the glorious. When we neglect to acknowledge what we feel, we are choosing to deny that there is anything wrong in the first place. Healing takes courage as a choice no matter the circumstance.

May the earnest prayers of your heart not be disguised by the necessity to clean up before you confess. There is no “secret” within the sacred moments before God. The mess we’ve created, the mess we live in, the mess we fall into countless time is the same mess where God’s love reigns supreme. He sees the rage, the foul talk, the unforgiveness, the offense, the cycle of sin and He does not look away in shame & disgust. He does not clothe us in the perpetual cycles of our past & the residue of who we were is not a scent he is familiar with.

New again. and again and again. As if it were our first time being crafted by the hands of his righteousness.

“Can I help you?”

All I could hear was The Beatles song “Help, I need somebody…” ugh… Those four little words, “Can I help you?”- does it give anyone else anxiety? Oh, just me. cool.

Over the last couple of years of deep investigation, I’ve discovered that I am a caretaker by nature and pretty much by trade. So when I married a man with a potential debilitating disease, it wasn’t something that I feared going into. It just seemed, well, normal. In the last year there has been one important life lesson that I will continue to shout from the mountain top: LET PEOPLE HELP YOU!!! 

I thought that kindly responding “I’ll be okay” was the humble way to persevere through trials. I thought I was doing myself a favor and assumed that people just said those things because it’s the right thing to do when someone is going through a hard time. I would then find myself over and over again, crying out to God for help. Expressing directly to him just how exhausted, overwhelmed, anxious, and burdened I was. And you know what the key is? GOD USES PEOPLE TO HELP US. Sounds easy, right? Putting it into practice, not so easy! I felt like when people asked if they could make a meal, give a gift card, send a coffee or drop off groceries, it made me like it was out of pity. Yet again, another lie that Satan so delicately places to make us feel unworthy of God’s grace gifted through people. 

Thursday, September 19th, 2019 I had just come out of a meeting where I knew I needed to shift some things to help continue the healing I needed in my life. It was about 11:30 a.m. and we were going into our monthly staff connect. It was my first time back at a staff connect after maternity leave. As we entered the time of worship, I vividly remember whispering to myself “Naomi, now is not the time to cry, nor is i the place to break, clean yourself up.” There was a knot in my throat the size of a softball as I fought tears from streaming down my face. The worship team continued to sing and I felt a deep prompting of the Holy Spirit saying “there will never be a time or place where you cannot FREELY come as broken as you are”. 

DONE AND DONE.

That was all the permission I needed for the rest of my life to refuse to clean up what has already been covered by HIS GRACE, not my perfection. 

From that one encounter there was a significant shift that began to take place in my life; the gift of allowing people to help. 

If we do it with God, we will do it with people; attempt to clean ourselves up to a portrayal of “I’m good.” - Just as much as God desires to help us, often times his most used tool will be through people. 

Does it sometimes feel unnatural? YES. 

Does it sometimes bruise our pride? YES. 

Does it get awkward? YES.

We have all been in a season where we have needed help. There is nothing wrong or pitiful about that. You will also be in a season where you are able to be THE HELP. Maybe even the same type of help you once needed. God’s love for his people is grown and shown in the extension of our help. After my mom’s passing, I couldn’t even tell you which way was up. The morning of her funeral I couldn’t tell you the details of the day or what exactly took place in what order, but what I can tell you is who I saw. I saw women from our church dressed in their most colorful dresses standing and ready in place to greet those that walked in. I recall meals with love notes being delivered for almost a month, toys for our kids to keep them distracted, video messages, friends baking fresh desserts, I mean, the list goes on. Every single gift was wrapped in a bit of Jesus himself. Although it seemed small and insignificant to most, it was the cover I needed to be clothed in. The help from God that I was kindly gifted in earthly form. It’s the only way to describe how much love and generosity we were saturated in during that season. 

Letting people love you with help does not mean you’re less than, It means you’re cared for. 

Letting people see your struggles does not mean you’re weak, it means you’re cared for.

Letting people support you in a time of need does not mean you’ve failed, it means you’re cared for.

God cares for us by allowing others to care for us; the needs he meets are produced in the form of community. When we give permission to others for their help, we make room for a new type of depth in our relationships. Surface relationships are easy to maintain because they don’t require much clean up. When you want to hunker down and anchor in a friendship, let them help you. Now, there’s nothing wrong with either, but we build a resilience when we open ourselves up letting others help us. 

We need God, we need help, and we need people. 

God needs us to help the people in need. 

And we need to be the people who accept the help that God is sending. 

Need a coffee? Say yes

Need a hot meal so you can think? Say yes.

Need a few things from the grocery store? Say yes.

Need someone to watch your kids so you can at least shower? Say yes. 

You don’t do anyone a favor by denying a blessing. YOUR BLESSING AT THAT. 

Because there will come a day when you will be someones blessing. 

“You don’t think that was a little too personal to post?”

Yes, we go to therapy. No, we are not ashamed. Yesterday afternoon my husband posted a snippet of what has been a life altering realization for him and how we are choosing to implement the plan for his healing. And you guessed it right, he is going to therapy. Last April after my mother passed away I realized I needed to seek therapy for my overall wellbeing. I was 8 months pregnant, we were in the middle of moving, we had committed to an amazing campus plant, I couldn’t tell which way was up, but sure, I was so ready to conquer the season (YEAH RIGHT!). I felt like I even had to pretty up my reasons for therapy. I remember walking in on my first day in the prettiest dress I could fit into, cute earrings, cheek highlighter poppin’, and fancy mule slides. My therapist asked a few get to know me questions while I answered with such poise and ended almost every response with, “but I’ll be okay”. I remember the following week trying to clean up the tears that were flooding down my face minutes before I was heading in. The thought came to me, “Naomi, don’t embarrass yourself. You work for a church, you’re a wife, a mom, your life really isn’t THAT bad, and people look up to you for hope- PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER”.

Why do we feel the need to create false impressions of ourselves even for OURSELVES?!?? I think it’s because the more we give into the lie, the easier it is to become it. I was trying to create this false impression that I was only going to therapy to deal with the trauma of tragically losing my best friend. Good Lord was I wrong! And then, that day, sitting in the car trying to blot tear drops, blow my eyes dry, and clean up the snot (now running down my lip), I determined that I would go in and go ALL OUT. This was my day, the day I would free myself from the impression I had created in my own mind. I went in, emotionally vomited all over my therapist, and walked out like had already given birth to Rhema AND lost all of my baby weight in the same session. I had never felt that before. It was the beginning of something my husband calls “brave humility”. 

Back to the good stuff… It’s been about a year since I’ve been in consistent therapy and the results have been forever life changing. I’ve had to continually sift through priority and not simply attending a need because I can. This revelation became contagious in all of my simultaneous roles: wife, mother, daughter, pastor, mentor, friend, sister, and soul. Giann and I have made it a necessity to have constant conversation around our wholeness. Often times you don’t realize you’re not completely healthy and whole until you begin to witness what that even looks like. For once in my life, I was the caretaker for myself and my health. It came first and every role under it was replenished. 

Now fast forward to the beginning of month two in quarantine: constant pressure to perform, create, produce, change, build, rebuild, and so on and so forth. Not to mention the just insane close proximity that we were in with each other and our kids. I mean, it was survival of the fittest over here and we were all suffering. Like I said earlier, Giann and I have always tried to create this space where difficult conversations can be safe. If I’m honest, I felt like we’ve had the same conversations, disagreements, and desires to change for some time now. This wasn’t a new conversation, but the depth of it continued to fall. Question after question we saw the puzzle pieces begin to fit with ease and tenderness. There were tears, sadness, disappointment, and even regret shared but HOPE stood strong. To understand a little bit more about us as a married couple, I guess you’d have to go back to the first year of dating: Giann got diagnosed with MS, one month later his 19 year old brother passed away in his sleep, and we were now heading to court for child custody. I mean, your first year of dating?!?! Yeah. we learned and continue to learn how to navigate the weight of ALL OF THAT to this day. But it has taught us to have a resilience for hard things. To understand that hard times are inevitable, but they won’t last forever. 

Okay, I promise no more story jumping! I just wanted to give you insight and background for why Giann has decided to make his overall health a main priority in this season. For both of us, we didn’t grow up with a clear picture of what it looked like to be emotionally, mentally and spiritually healthy. Most of us saw small portions reflected in the people we admire, but a good o’l well rounded whole person is tough to come by these days. So, why not become it? 

I remember the night a few weeks ago where the two of us sat on the couch talking about stress and happiness. He made a list of all the things that stressed him out… I swore he was writing a novel. And I remember asking him the question, “when will it ever be enough?”. *utter silence* and about 5 minutes later he replies, “It will never be enough. I work my butt off because it’s what I’m good at and confident in. Don’t you realize I’ve been in survival mode since I found out I was having a kid almost 8 years ago?”. Ladies and gentlemen, that was it; the straw that broke the camels back. Giann was living in the only thing he could do for HIMSELF and our family because it’s all he knew: survival. Yeah, surviving, not truly living and enjoying. Wandering in the assumptions of his own creative capabilities and using it as capitol for true identity. 

I’m pretty sure we’ve all done it at some point. Use all the good things we are good at to impress people, help friends, and fuel our own self confidence. That is why I share this post. I had someone ask the title question, “You don’t think that was a little too personal to post?” “What will people think is happening to him?” “Should we be concerned?”- If you know anything about Giann, he’s the guy that will introduce himself first, look you straight in the eye, and always give a compliment. He asks the hard, hilarious, awkward questions and somehow makes you feel alright. There’s a tenderness to him that you can’t bypass. And yet, like any normal human being, he has a hard time being honest with what lies beneath tattoos and creative jive. I really have been honored to get the only seat in the house to watching him mature. It hasn’t been without it’s hard days, but I wonder how many people think that because he’s the sweet, birkenstock wearing, baldheaded creative guy, that he doesn’t have unhealed wounds? He’s gone a thousand miles a minute for years to cover up the unsettled feeling in his soul. And today, he shared openly that his whole health will be his (our) priority. So, is that too personal? I don’t know. You be the judge. 

We have all felt alone. 

We have all been afraid to ask the hard questions.

We have all stood paralyzed in fear to make the first move toward our growth.

We have all made a list of excuses to ease our own insecurities. 

We have all hurt from the wounds of our past experiences.

We have all cried over situations we never had any control over in the first place. 

AND…

We are all in need of HEALING.

We are all in need of RESTORATION.

We are all in need of FORGIVENESS.

We are all in need of ACCOUNTABILITY.

We are all in need of HONESTY WITH OURSELVES. 

So, I guess the last question of the day is, have we truly been honest with ourselves? With the wants we assume we want? The lives we are trying to create to live? Or do we simply, survive because it’s an easier picture to paint? 

every body, EVERYBODY!

Ya girl is struggling.

The picture above is one of my most sacred pieces of art. It’s my body. The body that carried two souls earthside. I can look at this photo and think of how magnificent it was to accomplish that and see how my body fought. But, what about now? After the changes? After the “birth” has passed? How do I see myself in todays light?

It is hard to say. It is hard just to get these words typed out.

My body, your body, every body, everybody! 

I've had this continual battle with my body in the last year or so. Coming out of my second pregnancy and realizing that some things just aint going backkkkkkkk. I think that's why I struggled with coming to terms with being pregnant the first time around with Luna. Here I was, finally working out and running regularly, on a great vegan diet, being a newlywed for seven months, and then... your body, your hormones, your everything goes out the window and completely out of your control. That relinquishing control is the game changer. Realizing that you have absolutely no say over your body anymore. 

After my second pregnancy with Rhema I had a painful case of hip dysplasia after delivery and I was in a full hip brace for three months. Just to walk ten minutes was difficult and I wasn't used to these type of hinderances in my physical body. And that, that right there will play tricks on your mind. You're already struggling with your recovery, your new baby, and your newly loved body. So, to all the mamas that are struggling with loving the beautiful pouch, or a little leg flab, and very used boobs, You are so sexy & it's okay to struggle in the same token.

I've read body positive articles that tell me to love the skin I'm in, embrace my stretch marks, and be thankful that I carried life... all of which, yes, I am all about that, but can we address the elephant in the room? Sometimes that is just straight up hard to do! Let me mourn what was, but still be grateful for what I have. I know my stretch marks can be fierce, but y'all, I don't want them. ha ha. 

I mean, I look at the cellulite on my one year old and think "man, I wish people said 'awwwwww', when they looked at my dimples on my legs. Shoot, I wish I said that! 

This is what I'm getting to, our bodies for so long have defined an identity we long to hold onto. Society has shaped avenues for us to fit in to love ourselves because... 

because we are worthy... PRAISE JESUS!

because we are more than our bodies... AMEN!

because we are beautiful with our flaws... GLORY!

because having the perfect body is not a requirement for love... HALLELUJAH! 

But, I want to address that if you are struggling with insecurity in your body, that is okay. It is normal and we all have been there or, we're still there. I know I am! 

I remember when Rhema was around 4 months old, Luna sat on my lap, grabbed my stomach and said "Mommy, it's like play-doh". Thanks, Luna girl. I can be honest, it kinda hurt. It made me feel like there was yet, another thing, that I haven't gotten into control. 

Now, I am a firm believer in using wisdom for every part of your overall health. I believe in healthy eating habits, sleep, exercise, vitamins, water, and all the goods... but, what I'm talking about is the road we take again and again... and again... 

I mean, it's pulling us from every platform:

Vegan.

Plant-based.

Keto.

Protein.

Does anyone get overwhelmed with what is right? What if I just want one bag of hot cheetos? Do we cycle back to guilt? Gahhhhh. okay, I'm getting sidetracked. Do you see what I mean? There is an overwhelming approach to what is right and when it's right for you. 

One night as I was doing a self-care routine, I decided this would be a great time to bring God in on the conversation. I was struggling. My skin was breaking out, I felt bloated because I ate too much sugar earlier, my eyes were looking tired and my body, well, I felt like it was disappointing me. I began to worry about the place I would never get to because I can lack discipline with three kids at home. And then!!! And then you feel guilty because so many people don't seem to have excuses. ughhh. The cycle of guilt and shame is relentless! 

Anyways, back to this conversation with God. I invited him in, told him how I was feeling, and asked for some positive feedback... God, help a sista out. 

He replied in a dream I recall so vividly and his words were so comforting:

"Naomi, your body is the capsule for my movement.

It is not a separate entity that you decide to give up on, 

It is where my authority resides & is working.

If you don't give care & give attention to your body, 

you can sever the time & ability to serve those I have entrusted around you."

dang, he did me like that.

I’ve learned that my body is not a tool to regulate how confident I feel about myself.

My body, created with my mind and my soul, is to be cared for and nurtured just the same. I can put more attention to my body than to my soul, and vice versa. We need to love our bodies because God created them with the same intricacies as he did our minds and hearts.

Is that hard in a world that offers fixes, updates, tightening, lifts and so on and so forth? Yes. Yes, it is.

But when we realized we were created a three part being, we can relax in knowing that God doesn’t make mistakes. Does it take work to keep a healthy body? duh. Does it require discipline on our end? duh.

But, so does the care for our minds and souls. God cares for my development in every aspect, even in my body. He gives the same grace in that aspect and that, that is something to behold.

My body, worthy of being a tool God can use. So, c’mon every body, EVERYBODY.

“Here we go again…”

You know better.

How many times do we have to keep going over this?

I seriously can’t believe this is happening again.

Please tell me you are better than this?

Anyone else ever heard these words? Or better yet, have you ever told them to yourself? There’s nothing worse than disappointing someone you love. It can even feel like a form of betrayal. Your own guilt and shame continuing to wrestle in your mind. The hurt you carry when that ugly feeling inside takes over. It’s like a cycle of reiterating the mistake(s) in your daily planner. Your mind is clouded by what you could’ve, should’ve, or wanted to do differently.

I’m here to inform you that disappointment to yourself or to others is inevitable! It will happen, I promise. Another PSA is that YOU WILL BE ALRIGHT! Yes, I know the ugly feeling that eats you up inside, keeps you up all night, fogs your thinking, & all together can stress you the heck out. But, the sun will still rise the next morning. Amongst the 100,000 other distractions we encounter on a daily basis, disappointment waits in the line waving its flag to be seen, heard, felt, and tended to. And, you have the right to cater to it as you see fit. I do want to remind you that you hold the key to the amount of time you entertain it though. Give it an expiration date.

Let me paint the picture for you from my own experience. Last week my husband and I received some alarming mail from court that I allowed to ruin my ENTIRE weekend. Like, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY. I felt an entire rollercoaster of emotions. Disappointment was definitely at the top of the list. I was fueled by anger, ranting all my valid reasons of why I didn’t deserve this, listing my oh-so-holy illustrations of how this was so unfair, crying out, so frustrated I couldn’t eat, & justification after justification. I was down right disappointed. This circumstance, obviously completely out of my control, still makes my blood a little hot. This particular incident riled me up so much I couldn’t even post my blog last week and I was almost tempted to just not post today.

This morning, I called one of my mentors just to have a chat about some work stuff and she asked the polite question of, “Mija, how are you guys doing?”, and this was my chance! I was ready to just rant and rave till the walls fell down because I knew for SURE she would be on my side. This was my power pumping session and I was gonna go on a full on rampage after. The fuel I needed to really have the justification I knew I deserved. After about 15 minutes of my beautiful spectacle, she paused for a couple seconds and said, “Mija, you never give anyone the power to hold your peace”. (mic drop)

I was a little taken back… like, didn’t you hear ANYTHING I said about the other person and how they were in the wrong? I mean, I had at least a good 5 reasons. After her comment, tears began to stream down my face as she continued on to tell me (in the most loving way) that my heart and my behavior needed to be altered, Why hadn’t I thought about it in the way she had described? Well, because disappointment had set up camp and was blocking my full view of the bigger picture and I had refused to move.

Disappointment gives the fuel to our emotions that can lead the mindset we CHOOSE to operate from. And the more disappointment we continue to use as an anchor, the more we allow the chaos of it to rule our lives. All in all, disappointment is something we need to approach with an understanding that it won’t be the last time. I know, isn’t that in itself disappointing? We are entrusted with the choice. I’m not dismissing the hurts that true emotions that come along with being disappointed, I’m merely painting the picture that you have the choice to use different colors to paint over that picture.

Most of us in this season have or will experience some type of disappointment. We can also experience the reset of disappointment that postures us in a completely different mindset.

Disappointment makes way for new innovation of the heart.

Disappointment makes way for rebuilding NEW thoughts and approaches.

Disappointment makes way for a regeneration of your thinking.

Disappointment makes way for a well, a new way!

A letter of words unspoken.

Today’s blog is a dedication to the words I wish I could say to my mother face to face. I’ve spent the last year sifting through the truth, perceptions, and thoughts that came to life. I will eventually share the full story of her passing, but for now, this is what I need to share. Also, I apologize in advance if it makes you cry. If it makes you feel any better, I sobbed the entire way through writing it.

A letter of words unspoken.

Dear Mama,

I’m already crying. Just saying the word Mama brings tears because you’re not here to answer to the best name you were given. The pain is inevitable and very much alive. The reality is often suffocating. I’m pretty sure you would already be crying, with your lip quivering, but still managing to create a smile. The depth of that smile would carve a deepness in my memory that it could almost be heard. You would be proud to know that I am coming back to life. In small things, in big things, in all things. I wasn’t prepared for what your death would bring me to, or even who it would bring me to become. I lived off adrenaline for weeks. Distracting myself with the busyness of life, a new baby, moving, and the absence of having to find myself again… just this time, alone and without you.

But what else is there to say? I don’t want to go on giving you the sad parts I’ve had to work through, because you would always kindly decline attending a pity party. Indeed it has been grueling. Probably more grueling than i’ve allowed people to witness near and afar, because I still have to maintain a little privacy. It all fades for others after the burial has taken place. For me, your death was just beginning after that. I sat in front of that wall where your body laid everyday for months. Replaying and attempting to comprehend how this was a new reality. I would hear phantom noises of your chanclas in the kitchen, I could smell chiles on the stove, and even hear so clearly the sounds you made when you ate. These are the things that haunted me. Days of having to get through without a FaceTime chat or a funny meme. Coffee and sourdough toast to this day, doesn’t quite taste as divine without you sitting across from me in a fuzzy robe. These are the things I’ve lived without, but there are a few things I’ve grown into as well. And these things, I believe, would continue to make you proud.

I had a chubby baby with a lot of hair named Rhema Glory. Her birth was just that, glorious. It was as if you were present in the room when she came. I’ve never felt more calm or at peace than when I gave birth to her. She’s a lover of frijoles and sweet potatoes, just like your Luna girl. Now that one, she’s on another level. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I could picture you peeing your pants now because of how hilarious she is. Your life was so instrumental into who she has become. The memories you made with her are continually coming out of the etchings in her mind. Her heart is still yours and she always reminds us who her number one best friend is. Giann and I are still married, so that is a win. We often sit back and recall just how much you did for us over the years. I believe we have the marriage we do because of YOUR investment in our date nights, thoughtfulness, and caregiving. I still can’t wrap my mind around how much you gave to us with your time and selflessness. But, we still just miss your presence, your laugh, and man, your cooking. 

And again, I digress. A year. One whole year of choosing to take the day on. Heart full of sadness and fog. Taking almost an hour to get out of bed only to realize it wasn’t a dream. It was a tornado of destruction that left me in a completely new location with gravel and debris to put together. I assumed after a year I would be a little more healed, a little less sad, and a bit more motivated. But truth be told, your absence hurts more today than it did a year ago. You didn’t get to hold your granddaughter the day she was born, you didn’t snap a selfie on Lunas first day of preschool, you’ve missed countless birthdays. And every celebration without you still holds an obvious tension that something is missing; you. The joy and importance you brought to celebrations were LIFE giving. 

I miss you isn’t enough; it never will be. I know you didn’t want to leave, I know you wanted to fight, and I know I don’t understand… for now. I always imagined I would bury you in your 90’s. with a mexican mustache, a pancho, and a long white braid surrounded by your grandbabies. Saying goodbye almost 8 months pregnant on the morning of my baby sprinkle (that you kept insisting on having) and a full plan of moving you in was the hit I never saw coming. I replay that week in my head constantly. Furiously searching for the clues I needed for closure. 

On this side of earth I’ll never know why, how, or see the full picture of God’s plan, but knowing you were ready with all that was within you is all I need. It’s not just the big monumental moments, the holidays, or birthday celebrations that you’re only missed. It is the day to day. The morning sun with the sound of the birds that reminds me of our quiet times together. The midday calls of checkins and the sweet evenings over a home-cooked meal prepared with every ounce of love you contained. You’re missed in the seats of church, the sound of your voice worshipping in gratitude, and in the friendships you held together. You’re life was the very sense of a living, present Jesus.

Again, to say I miss you isn’t enough. Missing you is a constant ache that won’t completely heal, and that is okay. I endeavor to keep you alive in thoughtfulness, gratitude towards all things, and generosity towards others that is wrapped in your touch. Your love and legacy are very much alive - thriving in almost every single person you’ve touched. As your daughter, I won’t ever truly get over you being gone and I’m glad I don’t need to explain that. You were the best of everything I now know and for that, I am truly grateful God saw you fit to love me, nurture me, and shape me. Te amo, Mama.

The year of the twenty-three

This will hands down be the easiest blog post to write about. The reason being, this weeks entry is about my best friend, Giann Quijano, who’s actually my husband, duh. Although he has his quirks and irritating ways to get to me, there is way more good stuff to expound upon… he’s just, that guy!

Okay, so, the year of the twenty-three, what does that mean? Let me give you a little backstory to why this is so significant. In 2014 my husband was approaching his twenty-third birthday. Yes, you read that right. And if you’re new to our love story, this is where it gets good- so pay attention! It was about a couple weeks before his birthday and we started talking about the plans of how we were going to celebrate. We were out on a date at our fave tea spot when he made the comment that this would be his Jordan year. Yeah, as in Michael Jordan. I thought to myself… “He’s got something a little off because, Jordan’s number is twenty-three and I know I’m not actually dating a TWENTY-TWO YEAR OLD!” - just a little advice when you are beginning the dating relationship- ASK HOW OLD THEY ARE. Umm… yeah, I’m dead serious. We had been dating since December and I had yet to even ask how old he was (!!!!!!!).

Alright, let’s get to the good stuff and why his birthday especially is so significant to us (I know that’s why you’re here today and trust me, I will make it worth the read).

Let’s now fast-forward to mid April... By this time, yes, he was twenty-three. We had finally come out to the world of social media and life all around that we were dating. It was serious business. During this time I was in the middle of preparing for a major conference that our Women’s ministry hosted and it was insanely busy for us both. Giann at the time worked for our media department and we were both full force in this planning.

We happened to plan a simple date night of just ordering pizza and watching movie at his house (yes, with his parents home). It was getting close to 11 pm and my curfew at the time was 11:30pm. I vividly remember glancing over at him while the movie was wrapping up and saying, “Hey, I need you to take me home soon, I have an early morning” and I also remember looking at his face seeing the his entire demeanor had changed. But, not because I said I had to go. This, this look, was so different. His face was white and I noticed he kept clenching his hands to open and close. He leans over with a strange look on his face and says, “I can’t drive you home, you’re gonna have to call your mom to pick you up”… I kinda laughed insisting that he had to be joking. I kept pushing and joking that this wasn’t a time to be funny, I really did have to be home, He responded again, “I’m not joking, I really am not able to drive you home”. That’s when I realized it was something bigger than me assuming he just didn’t want me to leave. We sat there for the next 20 minutes talking about how he had just been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and that he was in fact, in that moment, having an episode. His entire left side had gone numb and he was experiencing what they call as a bear-hug moment- a feeling that you’re entire body is being hugged tightly causing shortness of breath and panic. By this time, he was in tears and quite embarrassed that this was the way I found out. He had found out a few weeks earlier, but didn’t know how to break the news because we had only been dating a few months. In this moment, he gave me the out. He told me he would never expect me to stay with him because he didn’t know what circumstances would lie ahead. We had already been dealing with some issues with his sons mom and he knew this could potentially be the straw that broke the camels back.

In all honesty, I went home in shock that night. I didn’t know how to process it for myself. I had NO idea what MS was or what the disease entailed. All I knew was that it didn’t scare me. It wasn’t something that was going to be a deal breaker either. And truthfully, I was familiar with the responsibilities of being a caretaker (I’ll save this story for a later blog post) and this was it, I was already too far in love to dip now. Okay, let’s get back…

We had the conversation that I was in it for the long-haul, no matter what that looked like. Giann had scheduled his spinal tap for late May so that I could be there and help with his recovery. Again, too long of a story to get into about his experience with a spinal tap… I’ll save that for, yet again, another juicy blog post. After we get the results of the spinal tap, we go into his neurologist office to get the treatment plan. We’re sitting in his office, he walks in (doesn’t look at us), pulls his scans to the Xray machine, and says, “Yeah, you definitely have MS- these are the lesions on your brain and your spinal cord, you will need either a cane or a walker by the time you hit twenty-five, so just brace yourself for that.” Ummm. Wow. way to be direct, Doc.

If you know anything about Giann, he’s a “worst case scenario” type of guy. This has it’s strengths, but definitely it’s weaknesses as well. So, we have the diagnosis. We have the devastating truth (doctors) about what life would (could) look like for us. Needless to say, it was a tough hit for us. From switching to a vegan/plant based diet, to breathing techniques, to choosing self-injections three times a week. It was such a huge shift for our reality. It was also the opportunity we needed to see God in the BIGGER picture. It was the opportunity to SEE God in the entire picture.

There’s been tons of different details that have played into our shifting view on his diagnosis, but what thing has always remained true, God is still faithful:

He is still a healer, healing.

He is still a comforter, comforting.

He is still sustainer, sustaining.

You see, every year we celebrate Gianns birthday (which, to me, is the BIGGEST deal), we don’t just share another year of life, we celebrate another year of God’s faithfulness to not having him use a walker or a cane. It’s another year to celebrate that God has the final say in our realities.

We celebrate the continual healing that’s taking place.

We celebrate the beautiful life we do have.

We celebrate the joy that’s pouring out.

We celebrate that his disease is not his identity.

Every year, I see the growth in Giann. I see the fight for faith he has to daily choose. I get to witness, firsthand, the perseverance to not settle in a diagnosis and raise up the white flag. I am able to partake in the daily celebrations that his life will be a witness and testimony of God’s power. And that right there, is good stuff.

And, here’s to another year of God saying his truth holds more weight and more relevance than a doctors idea of what life “should” look like for us.

Tik-Tok

This actually has absolutely nothing to do with a Tik-Tok, but that name is just so dang catchy. Well, I guess this time in our lives definitely does have us viewing the clock as if we can hear every tik-tok screaming from it. So, there’s the tie in.

Last week we had the opportunity to Zoom celebrate a dear friends birthday. Yes, it was a tad bit unusual, but we made the best of it. As I was scrolling through my phone to find the cutest, most flattering photos of us together to post in a full on IG story board, I began realizing that I had SO many photos in my phone. Like, thousands, literally. From my best hair cuts, funny pictures of my kids, sentimental moments shared with friends, and all the awkward, less flattering photos I send to my friends to show they are not alone in the wild circus called parenting. I assumed I would get sad looking at all the “before quarantined” life freedoms we had, but honestly, I felt as if it really was a whisper from the Holy Spirit that he would do even GREATER things in this next season. The thought was strange to me. I’m in a house, full of wild children, an antsy husband, with a new rhythm of uncertainty. Surely, this was the time to have a pity party about the good o’l days.

A few days after that prompting, I was nursing Rhema and I began to notice the length of her eyelashes, the depth of her big brown eyes, how thick her hair was growing in, and how she loves it when I play with her ears. Again, I felt another whisper that said, “all these details have been here all along, but you haven’t had the time nor the urgency to discover them”. Urgency to discover them. I said it over and over again to myself. Urgency to discover them… I’ve had a ton of urgency lately, but not in discovering the truth about whats been in front of me this entire time, We are consumed to the urgency of panic. At times, it really does feel inevitable to not feel the anxiety of everything happening around us. But, if we shift the discovery of our urgencies to good things, how much more will we see it in everything? How different would our prayers be? How quickly could our souls fill with gratitude if we fixated on these being the good o’l days?

So, this entry is dedicated to all of us. The ones at home dying to get back to “normal” life, the ones still trying to catch this new rhythm of abrupt adjustments, the ones really fighting for our peace. We are being fused together in a truly monumental way. The discoveries about ourselves, our priorities, all the things we may feel we took for granted. This is dedicated to the generation of Tik-Tok, Marco Polo, Zoomers, and boomers… Here is the time to be. Now is the time to pray. Today can be a new day of urgency discovery. Drop the worries in exchange for the beauty in the sky. Leave the pity at the doorstep and pick up the expectation that you will transformed during this time. We all feel the shift, we all feel the ache of connection, but that doesn’t mean we stop being innovative. I challenge you to even invite your kids on this journey with you. Let them build your imagination again. Let’s move forward to NEW things!

Isaiah 43:19 MSG

“Forget about what’s happened;

don’t keep going over old history.

Be alert, be present. I’m about to do

something brand-new.

It’s bursting out! Don’t you

see it? There it is! I’m

making a road through

the desert, rivers in the badlands.”

Change of plans…

I don’t like when I hear the words “change of plans.” It instantly gives me anxiety. And, 2020 was destined to be “OUR” year. Everything we had been praying for seemed to finally be coming into fruition. It was the most exciting season we had ever imagined entering; we had just purchased a beautiful home, we were having another baby, helping build a church campus plant, my mother was going to be moving in with us full-time to help with the kids, I mean, C’mon… this was IT!

And then, one Thursday afternoon after dropping my son of to my mothers house, I noticed she was still asleep on the couch, very exhausted. I had a campus meeting and I called my brother to tell him that something was up and someone needed to take my mom to the hospital just to get checked out. My mother recently had been rear ended twice within the month, so we assumed that, that was the reasoning for her exhaustion. They kept her for observation that Thursday night and said they were going to do a biopsy that next morning. This wasn’t something foreign to us. Because of my moms double lung transplant, we pretty much knew the routine and how much extra caution the doctors took with her care.

Friday morning we prayed as she went into her biopsy knowing that God was going to see her through. Later that afternoon I came waddling my almost 8 month pregnant belly to the hospital with my best friend. My mom was in the best spirits and just feeling a bit sleepy. We took our usual hospital selfie and thanked everyone via social media for their prayers. My best friend left and I called my husband for a ride home since my mother would be released in a few hours and he would come back to take her home.

My oldest brother and I were in the room when we heard a knock at the door, but oddly, nobody came in. My brother walked outside and I continued to chat with my mom about what she was craving to eat. We joked, laughed, and just kept chatting. My phoned chimed with a message that my ride was waiting for me so I gave my mom a kiss and told her I would see her a bit later. I walked out of the room to find my brother exiting a small room with one of the doctors. His face was completely while and swollen from tears. He looked me in the eyes and said, “The doctor just showed me moms scans and she has lesions everywhere, and theres nothing they can do.” It was like having an out of body experience. I felt instantly hot and confused. He walked me down and we chatted about the weight of what the doctor was trying to say. I was so confused.

I immediately waddled over to my husband and just whispered, “she has cancer taking over and theres nothing they can do.” Even saying those words overwhelmed me. Long story short ( I will write this detailed story later on in a blog celebrating the life of my mother) my sweet Mama went to be with Jesus one week and a day after that devastating news. Till this day, I still can’t wrap my mind around that week.

In an instant, I had lost my best friend, my mother, my cheerleader, my support, my shopping buddy, my just about go-to for everything. This wasn’t part of the plan… AT ALL. I kept going back to a conversation the two of us had about her moving in, the new car we were going to get her, and just how amazing this next season was going to be for all of us. I was now consumed with planning a funeral, trying to contact all our family, friends, and support group members. I kept busy with everything that I never really hit grief head on. It came and crept it later.

About a month after her funeral, we decided to rent our house out and move back to our homely apartment where my mother was living. Later that week, my husband got into a car accident and now we didn’t have a car! I was weeks away from delivering. Again, THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN.

I realized after having Rhema that I would need proper space to actually face the trauma, to heal, get therapy, mourn, learn to live a life without her support. It was all too much. I remember sitting down with one of my leaders at church and we unpacked all my responsibilities and their recommendations to help me slow down. A few weeks before my husband and I had a very difficult conversation about how maybe this wasn’t the time for us to lead a campus in our state of adjustment. That hurt the most. I felt like I was failing. I felt like it was my fault for not being strong enough to carry on. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do it all? Why didn’t I have the capacity within me to balance all the changes? why?? well, because I am human.

Nothing in the season we were so excited about went the way we had imagined. In fact, it went 10 steps backward in the opposite direction. My heart and the disappointment I was carrying consumed me. All in all, I’m actually still standing full of peace and acceptance for the changes. It helped mold me and see that when things don’t go as planned, God still equips us with what we need. He is still there, very present, very powerful in our season of shifting. It is the shifting that builds resilience and dependence on His greater plan and for that, I am SO thankful. My encouragement to you those of you who have or are currently walking in seasons of the unexpected change of plans, embrace the change, even if it hurts. God is still the God of comfort and he makes ALL things (even the unexpected things) new.

In the clouds…

If you know anything about me, you know I am NOT a fan of games. I try to avoid them at all costs! Whether thats bridal showers, baby showers, birthday parties, the list goes on. You will consistently see me attempt use the restroom once that daunting announcement is made that the games will begin shortly. I’m totally okay with this. I will say for the record, I’m not necessarily bad at them, I just don’t enjoy them like most people do. And on that note, I’ve actually even brought home the Friendsgiving trophy for three years. Yeah, I know, ironic.

The truth is, there’s one game I often unconsciously play to the best of my ability- The comparison game. I win every single time, hands down. And in that same token, I lose every single time as well. I lose a bit of my own happiness because it’s gauged on the perception of a false identity. I’m here to say that if we are not careful with this game in particular and how much we can engulf ourselves in it, our joy will slip out like the attempt to hold water in between your own two hands.

COMPARISON CLOUDS CONTENTMENT. Read that again.

COMPARISON CLOUDS CONTENTMENT. One more time for the people in the back.

I’m the first to say that I’ve been utterly consumed in comparison. I’ve compared my body, my finances, my home, my intelligence and my own expectations of myself. Comparison is the tiny tear in our contentment that leaks gratitude for what is in front of us, giving us life. In a society that carries such weight and voice to what we should acquire to be, no wonder we lack a foundation of truth to what really makes us happy.

It is in everything around us. One scroll through Instagram and there we are, dreaming about what it would be like to live the life of an influencer in the Caribbean sipping margaritas with the perfect gifted bathing suit. The cool tones of their beautifully executed photos with the perfect purchased presets so the flow of their feed is seamless.

We want those anthems. The well versed, uplifting and encouraging spit-fire posts that get shared and passed on by hundreds. This deep desire to be heard, seen, and known. It can consume us to train ourselves to be “better.” Does anyone else get exhausted from the upkeep? I’ve found myself even curating certain things in my home just so it gives a cleaner “feel.”

Comparison blinds us from the beauty of who we are and what we have.

Comparison blurs the truth of what is necessary.

Comparison robs us of the freedom to pursue true joy.

This is why we have to constantly remind ourselves of the anthems that we are truly enough.

I’ve had to realign my focus on comparison by declaring that I am not just a mom body, with a mediocre life, and dreams that aren’t worth pursuing. I encourage you to sit down and ask yourself the hard question, “What comparison is clouding my joy?”

In between being & doing.

In a recent counseling session I openly shared with my therapist that there was one regret I came to terms with the week of my mother’s passing; I was so consumed with the role of caretaker that I diminished my role as daughter. You see, my mother passed one week and a day from us discovering that her cancer was spreading through her body. Yes, ONE week. I was so busy texting everyone, calling doctors, trying to ensure that she wasn’t in any pain, organizing nursing rotations that I missed moments to just talk with her when she had energy. I was so “busy” that I didn’t savor the very last moments because I wanted to be such a good caretaker.

Fast forward now almost 9 months. Here I am, with the last memories of exactly what doctors I talked to, who came to visit, what foods she ate, but no last questions answered...no video chats taken... no voice recordings left to replay. ONE week & in an instant, she was gone.

I’ve replayed that week hundreds of times as I began to prepare for life in 2020 without her and I’ve come to the conclusion that I refuse to let my “doing” remove me from my “being.”
I’ve spent months worried over people’s feelings, if they were offended by something I said or did, catering to unhealthy relationships & I’ve made a notion to just stop.

To guard to sanctity of my marriage, to embrace what I have in front of me, to allow myself the freedom to be selfish for my wholeness. To be a daughter.

I want to be here to take in the laughter, the tears, the memories and not just the duty to please. So, join me in saying yes to your own well-being... for you.

Mom it like it’s hot.

Books, Blogs. Boss babe moms. We all want the info. The right supplies to buy, the hospital bag necessities, the birth plan down to the T, the sleep trainers guide, and the WAY TO JUST DO THE DANG THING. Whose advice do we take? Who has the best of the best? Wait, what is the best of the best? Entering motherhood is inherently one of thee most terrifying experiences because you basically just never know what your baby will be like. Even more so, you are on a new discovery of who YOU will be like.

Everything is foreign - your new body, your new babe, your new life.

I remember scavenging all the best curated pictures of new moms on instagram and drinking it like it was water giving me LIFE! I had four baby showers. Yes, you read that right… FOUR. I was desperate to enter motherhood suited up with everything that everyone had recommended. And then, she came. Seven hours of labor, two stitches, one night in the hospital and boom - we were home, The crazy thing was, none of the nurses came home with me. Shocking, right? That first night was such a blur. I remember slowly falling back on the bed as I passed my four pound nugget to my husband and instantly KO’ing. This wasn't anything close to what all the books said. Nothing.

Now being a mother for about six years now, I can say that I regret one thing; I never truly sought to DISCOVER MOTHERHOOD, I endured it. Because all the books, blogs, and boss babe moms said “this is just a phase!.” I entered every new phase with this intent to hit milestones of development but I was missing out on the savoring. And, I was missing out on the new extended version of myself. God had added strength, capacity, and beauty to my wellbeing and I was too consumed in the arrival.

There will be meltdowns, diaper blowouts, spit up, leaky boobs, dropped lunches, and an untidy home.

There will be days where being needed will overtake your desire to be present with your children.

There will be bathroom lock-ins (for yourself), sobbing car drives, junk food binging, Oprah ugly cry walking through Target. And, guess what? It is all okay. Motherhood is like sweeping in the middle of a dust storm. Eventually, the dust settles. 

Yes, there will be days where mothering seems unappreciated, overlooked, and ridiculously overwhelming in ever sense. 

Yes, you will have days where you question what you’re doing.

Yes, there will be a time where you feel like you don't recognize who YOU are. 

But…

There will be insurmountable JOY.

They will often come from tiny humans with filthy hands and stinky breath…

and you will fill to the brim with gratitude.

Remember to be DEEPLY kind to yourself. 

Remember when your babes see you, they see home.

Remember your post baby body does not equate your value or capability to mother well.

Remember we all have our experiences and stories of this new found motherhood… and they are equally valuable. 

Take your days, as crazy or as peaceful as they come, and MOM IT LIKE ITS HOT.

I bet it’s not actually what you are assuming at this point.

No, I’m not pregnant, we are not moving, and I am not becoming a stay at home mom. Lol. I guess this is a formal invitation to the “big secret” that these conversations will become an open forum. Meaning, yes, I am starting a blog. But, I don’t want it to be something that you just read and share for inspiration. I want this to be an invitation to join me alongside this journey of discovery and healing.

I specifically chose Valentine’s Day to launch this blog because above everything, I absolutely LOVE, love. Don’t we all? Looooooooveeeeeee, it even sounds contagious. Here is the one thing I’ve learned about love...it is what you make it to be. Yes, love can be tricky and even difficult, but love can also be captivating and foundational. Love is what guides a majority of the decisions we make in our lives and not necessarily in the best ways.

Ya want to know a big secret? Giann and I were actually married before our wedding ceremony. On June 22, 2015 we drove down to the courthouse to get our marriage certificate and made the decision to get married right then and there. That day! It was absolutely CRAZY.

I have a feeling I know what many of you are thinking, especially if you are Christian. “You did it so that you could have sex and not feel guilty!” Uhhh, NO! You see, when Giann and I first started dating it was our wise decision to date quietly, almost silently I would say. We both had the conversation of how immense the outside pressure was to be in a serious relationship. At the time, he was a very almost single dad with a baby boy just a little over a year old and I was stepping into a very new role in leadership. There was already enough pressure on both of our ends to make wise decisions, and I knew that for myself, I needed to get to know him on a level of depth that didn’t have a lot of opinions from others. I felt that many people would try to persuade me otherwise because he was a young tattooed hooligan with a kid. I mean, not ideal for a young Christian woman who was about to become a Women’s pastor, right?

So, with all the wisdom combined, we shared with our parents, mentors, and a very few close friends that we would embark on this new journey of dating. We would see each other at work and act like, well, coworkers. We would pass each other at church and kindly say hello. It was the BEST time of our lives; this time without any outside opinions, skewed perspectives, or negative input on our relationship. Again, you have to remember that we only allowed certain people to participate in this. I am in no way regarding that hiding a relationship is “goals”. I’m saying to be WISE with who you allow to speak into particular places of your life. For me, this was a deep place, it was uncharted territory. I knew that the women in my life who were going to have a front row seat were the ones who would go to battle for me in prayer, who would seek a whisper from the Holy Spirit, and who would champion not just me, but Giann as well. And well, it was the best.

We finally went “public” on good ol’ Instagram for the world to know that we had already been dating for almost six months. So for us to get married, just the two of us, that day was so sacred. Weddings can be stressful and overwhelming, but we decided that day, in that tiny courthouse, that from then on out, it would be OUR marriage, OUR fight, OUR love to pursue. There was something so raw about the emotion of that day. We had talked about getting married in secret for months and there it was. A beautiful Monday afternoon with nothing fancy to wear, but just the reality that we loved each other so deeply.

That first year of dating for us was so trying. I will definitely share more in a separate blog, but just to preface what that year held for us emotionally: Giann had been diagnosed with MS in July, his little brother passed away about a month later, and that Fall we had a grueling court issue with custody for Milo. There was so much heartbreak that first year. Then, we were finally making preparations for a full on wedding! And as beautiful as our wedding was, I constantly go back to that day in the courthouse where it was just the two of us, in tears, making a commitment to always be just us. Just after our commitment, we went to have tea at the very spot where we had our first date. We talked about how crazy we were to really just get married without a soul to know, but how special it was to do something just for us. In our marriage, I would have to say that putting those boundaries and sanctity of our marriage first is really what has kept us going; it’s knowing that the responsibility given to us by God has always been for each other and not for the thoughts, opinions, or perspectives of anyone else.

Who has God entrusted you with? And are you doing your best to guard and cultivate health in it?

         Well, you might be disappointed that the big secret wasn’t as big as you thought! But, I promise you to always be transparent, to invite you in on the realities of all things life, and to give you the best wisdom from Heaven that I possibly can. I hope you enjoy the bare bones of my life & I pray you come alongside me on the journey.