a little too much

Growing up, I often felt like I was "a little too much." I was too quiet, too emotional, too sensitive, too straightforward, too quick to make decisions, had too big of a forehead, and many other things that were "too much" for those around me (or at least that's what I picked up on as a kid).

Nothing has changed in my adult life . . . except that I've come to the conclusion that I think my "too much" is actually what makes me unique. It's just the way God wanted me. I've got a big heart & equally big fashion choices :-) I'm moved by things that others (especially those from the conservative background I grew up in) might be turned off by - things like global justice, fashion, makeup artistry, dancing, equal rights for gay couples, etc.

In fact, my new nickname for myself is "Sparkles." I love sparkles . . . big dangly hoop earrings with rhinestones, sparkly belts, sparkly shoes, sparkly eyeliner, sparkly spray . . . let's face it, pretty much anything that sparkles (or makes people look twice) makes me smile - or at least crack up a bit.

Some may think it's a bit too much - maybe even tacky. But I really like my sparkles. It's part of what makes me me, and I'm no longer apologizing for being me.

i'm feeling blue

So for Mahalia's 3rd birthday party, she requested everything be blue . . . and so we did it up blue - VERY blue. There were blue suckers, blue balloons, blue cake, blue pinata, blue outfits, blue bags, blue cake & blue presents. It was great fun.

My favorite memory was watching her face as the candles were lit & the song began . . . she belted out the "Happy Birthday" song with the rest of us & was so very excited about the whole thing. She'd been rehearsing it for months & this was her big moment.

Remembering back to her birth, I'm still amazed at the gift of life - ALL of life . . . the fun blue parties to celebrate life & the not-so-fun blues moments of heartache. Mahalia Joy, you are named well & I'm so grateful that God gave us you. You are pure delight & I celebrate your life!

cast iron & pooh ha ha

The last 24 hours have had some pretty entertaining highs & lows (as all holidays seem to provide).

As our very first guests were arriving last night (she had just dropped her son off & walked back to her car to grab the stuffing), I thought I'd make a little more space in the sink for dishes . . . so started putting the clean ones away. I picked up the bowl on top & no sooner did I notice everything (ie. dish jenga) starting to shift - than a 5lb. cast iron skillet dropped directly on my big toe. Blood started gushing everywhere! Dan quickly grabbed a bag of frozen berries for me to use as a cold compress & I downed some extra strength Tylenol. Anyhoo - after a few washes with peroxide, a few band aid changes & a good night's rest, I'm happy to report that I'm gonna live.

This morning (as often happens), Mahalia was quizzing me on various words in Spanish (or "Smanish" as she calls it). "Mommy, what's this is Spanish?" (pointing to the couch, then to the pillow, then asking about a tree). We successfully got through about 7 or 8 different words. Then she asks, "Mommy, how do you say 'Winnie win the pooh' (aka: Winnie the Pooh) in Spanish?"

I tell her I don't know. No sooner do I get the final word out of my mouth & she says, "No Mommy! It's 'Pooh ha ha'." Even now as I type, I'm fighting laughter. It was perfect.

rated R

I think one of the marks of the human experience is our common desire to be known & accepted. Everyone, I believe, longs to have others see them . . . really see them - blemishes, wrinkles, ugly days & all. Then once we are seen for who we truly are, we want to be accepted at a profound level.

We want to be loved for who we truly are - not for the facade that we can occasionally fake or for the games we play. In fact, one of the main reasons people grow so acustomed to wearing a mask, is precisely because they don't feel seen and accepted at a gut level.

That being said, I was deeply grieved today by the fact that my life is rated R, and someone close to me only watches G movies. He only wants the "upbeat, everything'll be ok, kumbaya" version of my life . . . which (quite frankly), I'm not all that interested in telling. My life, while having incredible moments of joy & vibrancy has been marked by pain, lessons learned (some the hard way), death (of people & of dreams), and mistakes. So when he kept changing subjects each time I tried to approach the "R" side of my life, I felt like crying (and I actually did today).

Today someone asked me a great question, "Would you rather have no relationshipwith him, or a relationship that he can handle?" And quite frankly . . . I don't know.

passion

Dancing is like breathing. It's life. It's joy. It's my spirit's answer for any crazy day or any celebration. When I dance, I feel fully alive. It's not so much about the steps, the choreography or the partner as much as it about the feeling inside. With each turn, my heart becomes more alive, more full.

I resonnate with Elvis' description of his passion: singing. "It's like your whole body gets goose bumps. It's like a surge of electricity going through you. It's almost like making love but it's even stronger than that. Sometimes I think my heart is going to explode."

One of my salsero friends once asked me, "Why do you love to dance so much?" Didn't even have to think about it - because I feel God's love when I dance.

jackpot

Today is veteran's day & I feel like I hit the jackpot! Within the last 24 hours . . .

• Mahalia has become 100% potty trained!


• I danced my heart out until the wee hours of the morning


• Dan got the day off of work & let me sleep in (so no salsa hangover :-)


• We had planned to get some work done, but decided to enjoy the day together instead


• Mahalia got her 1st haircut


• We enjoyed lunch & hanging out in Chinatown


• Mahalia actually fell asleep in the car (a true miracle!)


• Dan doesn't have to work tonite, so we can hang as a family . . . ALL DAY!

As we were enjoying our fried rice & fried bananas (maybe THAT's why I was so happy - so much tasty fried foods) . . . I looked across the table & marveled at just how grateful I am to have such a full heart.

my pastor - a real treasure

I haven't been to "church" in almost two years. During that time, my thoughts about what the church is have changed dramatically. My beliefs have been challenged & my spirit has been blessed in ways that I never imagined possible - given my lack of traditional church involvement.

Today it occured to me (even though I haven't darkened the door of a church building) that I have a pastor. She's a 38 year old housewife, whose current resume includes suffering, rape & pain. The things she has taught me over the last two years have radically transformed my life.

Her kindness, wisdom, grace, truth-telling, her ability to stand with me in my pain, her spoken blessings & generosity have offered me incredible spiritual healing over the last 2 years. You know who you are. And my gratitude for your love can't be expressed in words. Thank you for letting Jesus help you to be my pastor.

holding a space

So one of the strangest things about being a "speaker's wife" is that people come up & say the most interesting things to you afterwards . . . random things, funny things, slightly insulting things, kind things - just lots of things. You never know what's comin' next. It could be anything from, "That was interesting", to "You're really pretty" to "How did you meet Dan?" Either way, I never really know how to respond. It's kind of like verbal diarrhea.

Last night, I went to hear Dan speak at a mega church down in the OC. Afterwards (as always happens) people approached me & started talking - just talking (ie. not really interacting - just talking). Now for those of you who know me, I'm not a large group kinda gal. I like coffee with a (meaning 1 or possibly 2) friend - not 300 people ambushing me after an event. So I always get a little twitchy about the whole thing.

One lady in particular stood out. She was obviously kind & a bit timid. But then she began to tell me bits & pieces of her life story. Out of respect for her, I won't share details. But what I can say was that I was shocked that she would tell me (a complete stranger) the things she told me. It started me thinking . . .

I used to feel awkward listening to folks, because I never have anything brilliant to say to them when they talk - I just listen & maybe ask a question or two. But mostly I just listen. Besides, it's Dan who's the "speaker."

But then today, as I was processing it, it occurred to me that one of the things folks need is a safe space to process. It's kinda like holding a space for someone where they can have the room to "get it out." Though it still feels a bit strange to me, I'm hoping that I'll grow in the grace of holding a space.