I was quite surprised at the number of hits I got on yesterday’s post, more than any other post I’ve ever written in fact, and oddly enough, it made me realize that I just don’t want to write about politics anymore.  For one thing, that letter helped me pretty much get off my chest a lot of things I’ve been wanting to say for quite some time, and all my previous efforts to write about my political philosophy felt like I was trying to capture a greased pig (which I’ve tried before; it isn’t easy).  For another thing, as much as I enjoy discussing politics, I much prefer the typical face-to-face talks over coffee or fighting about it over Thanksgiving dinner – like normal people.  But treatise-writing is not my bag of chips, possibly because I write things like “not my bag of chips.”  I don’t think Thomas Jefferson would have used a phrase like that in any of his essays.

The reason why I tried to force the political commentary here was because I didn’t want to be a “mom blogger” or a “home blogger”.  I greatly admire those genres of blogging, but I wanted my blog to be for the mom who stands doing dishes while pondering how to solve the world’s problems – like I do.  Or for the woman who would rather talk about immigration than cloth vs. store bought diapers.  Those blogs are already out there, and I read them sometimes and enjoy them.  But as much as I love being a stay-at-home mom, when I spend all day every day with my children, they kind of tend to be the last thing I want to talk about when I get the chance to talk to other adults.  I blog to share my heart and to engage in community, and there’s more in my heart than just my children and how to stencil my entryway.

But I don’t have it figured out.  I don’t know what this blog is supposed to be, but I know I love doing it.  I haven’t figured out all of the cool photography tricks, or how to change some of my graphics, but I’m learning.  My blog is a year-and-a-half old this month, and like human one-and-a-half year olds, it’s still just toddling around bumping into things and drooling on itself as it speaks in broken sentences.

To be honest, it’s hard not to get discouraged when you’ve been at something for some time and it hasn’t had it’s breakthrough moment yet, you know what I mean?  I just know there are those of you out there that have been working so hard at developing your own business, or ministry, or are trying to homeschool, or what have you, and you love it, and it’s like your baby, but it’s still a constant battle to stay above water with it.  Or you’re the mom whose child is just fighting you on the same thing every. single. day. and you just keep plugging through, trusting that at some point, peace and resolution will come.  Or you’ve just moved to a new town – three years ago – and you still haven’t been able to make those close friends, or feel quite at home, but you just know that you’re where you’re supposed to be, but nothing’s happening yet.

So collectively, we wait, we hope, we groan a little, then give ourselves a little pep talk. We remind ourselves that for others that it came so easily to, that that is their story, and we have a story of our own to write, and hopefully, it will be so much more interesting than “easy”.  We pray, we continue moving ever so slowly forward, we make corrections.  We learn new skills and new approaches, we introduce ourselves to new people.  We maybe say “no” to some of the things that we have emotional attachments to, but were holding us back.  We take a risk, close our eyes, and cross our fingers that it works.  We choose to trust that eventually, something will click, or something will change, and no matter what, we’ll be okay.

So thank you in advance to those who choose to stick around through the clumsy toddler stage, and the awkward puberty stage, to the fully-grown only slightly immature adult stage of this blog.  I truly appreciate your company.

Did anyone else out there have a really crappy Christmas?  To be quite honest, I did.  We didn’t have very big plans this year, just a small, simple Christmas at home.  I was extremely fatigued the week leading up to Christmas, and a lot of my gift projects (which I’ll share in a later post), didn’t get completed until the last minute.  My dad came for a visit and we got into an argument, the girls were so restless during our Christmas eve service that we had to leave in the middle, then on Christmas morning, I awoke with the worst case of strep throat I’ve ever had.  I literally blacked-out trying to get out of bed.  It was just terrific.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but we have international students living with us – one from South Korea, and one from Saudi Arabia – and they were to be spending Christmas with us (as well as another Saudi student who had lived with us & gotten his own apartment).

Aren’t they cute?  I love our students.  For our Saudi students, it was to be their first Christmas ever, and I really wanted it to be special for them.  But by the time I was able to drag my faint and dizzy body out of bed on Christmas morning at the crack of 11, all we managed to do was open a few presents, then it was off to bed for me, and everyone went their separate ways.  I felt so bad for our students, who were probably left wondering what the big frickin’ deal is about Christmas.

To make matters, well, not any better at all, the next day I had to go in for an MRI to check on some pain in my right side.  The morning after that, I got a scary freaking phone call saying that my doctor wanted me to come in right away to get several CT scans done.  No explanation, just a receptionist telling me that the MRI showed something and I needed to come in THAT day and they would find a way to squeeze me in.  Great.  Urgent CT scans needed.  I was officially freaked out.  I was already feeling sick as a dog with strep, and now I had to go get inside some big scary machine that I’d only ever seen on Grey’s Anatomy.  Let me tell you, they are bigger and scarier in person.

After urgent attempts by me and Lukus to get a hold of my doctor to see what was going on, he finally called back.  The MRI had showed a spot on my lung, and he wanted to check it out.  Shouldn’t be a big deal, and he was sorry he hadn’t gotten back to me sooner.  Yeah, thanks doc.  I was just planning my will is all.

I wasn’t allowed to eat all day (which is just wonderful for someone who’s also hypoglycemic), but they did let me drink a chalky “berry” concoction to illuminate my insides for the scans.  I was disappointed that I couldn’t see my veins glow in the dark like I’d hoped.  And I love how the hospital staff just assumes that you already know you’re going to have an I.V. put in too.

As I got onto the table to get the scans done, with a machine telling me when to inhale and when to exhale, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it all was; that I’m too young for this crap, and I should only know what a CT machine looks like from Grey’s Anatomy and not from experience; that it was the week of Christmas and New Year’s, and I was already sick, and couldn’t I catch a break?

But Life doesn’t work that way does it?  Life isn’t on the same schedule you are.  Life doesn’t take holidays, and Life doesn’t feel sorry for you and cut you a break because you’d already had a bad day.  Life doesn’t care that you’re scared because you’ve already buried your mom too young, which has brought you to the realization that you have no control over pretty much anything.  Sometimes Life is beautiful and generous, and sometimes she hits you with a powerful right hook, and as you lie there, you just have to follow instructions from a machine telling you: “inhale”, “exhale”.

That night, after the tests were over with, Lukus and I got dressed up and went to a wedding.  The bride was beautiful, as brides always are in their own unique way when they’re full of hope and love.  We had some laughs with family members, and I danced with my husband, who had to hold me extra tight since I still wasn’t feeling my best.  I have yet to hear back from my doctor, which I’m assuming is good news.  But I’m learning that this is how it goes:  weddings follow CT scans, a bright new year follows a crappy Christmas, hope follows fear, and as soon as you’ve got your strength back, it feels pretty damn good to plant your feet on the ground, clench your fist, and swing back at Life with everything you’ve got.  So to everyone else who may have had a lousy, no-good, sorry little Christmas, I wish you a bright and merry ordinary Tuesday, full of wonder, beauty, happiness and hope!

Haha!  Happy New Year, from my munchkins (who can’t sit still long enough for one stinking picture) to you!  This is my first sad effort of one of my resolutions to “Take more pictures for my blog.”  I must say that New Year’s is my fah-fah-favorite holiday.  More than Thanksgiving, more than Christmas.  Something about the massive selection of pretty/whimsical/funny calendars just gets me all giddy and hopeful.  I’ve had a calendar on my desk for three months that I’ve just been waiting to crack open.  Lukus considers this a disease.  The cynic.

Every year, I get sucked into the naive idea that things can change, life can get a little bit better, and I can make some progress in bettering myself.  Naive, yes, but I can’t help but believe the same for this year – even IF the statistics show that 80% of people have dropped their resolutions by February, and the rest within a few months.

Usually, I go all Type A and make a huge, categorized list of my goals for each area of my life, steps to attain those goals, and then a schedule that will help me live it all out.

And then I become one of the 80%.

But not this year.  This year, I’m taking a much simpler approach: make each day a little better than the one before.  Rather than burst through the gate with 10,000 changes, I’m going to allow myself to ease into the year with small steps – slow and steady, like the infamous race-winning tortoise.  If I take a 15 minute walk today, I’ll make it 20 tomorrow.  If I don’t get dinner on the table tonight, I’ll at least cook up some Mac N’ Cheese tomorrow night, and maybe, by the end of the year, I’ll have gone through Pioneer Woman’s whole cookbook.

It’s all very conveniently vague, but utterly liberating for me.

The only resolution I have actually pinned down in my head (besides the blog-photo thing) is to spend one night a week just hanging-out with a friend.  It’s so easy to just let friendships subsist on encounters after church, a bit of Facebook interaction, or a children’s play group rather than taking the time to do the things that encourage a friendship to actually grow – like taking a raw foods preparation class with my dear friend, Hannah, or driving up to Tulsa to see a couple of my best college buds.  So there it is, my one resolution for 2012:  Be a better friend.

Oh, and I want to move forward toward becoming an interior designer.

And I really want to get back to my reading list.

And of course, I still have 10 pounds to lose….

Breathe, Elle.  Tortoise steps.  Tortoise steps.  Tortoise steps.

Do you believe in New Year’s resolutions?  Did you make any this year?  Have you ever fulfilled a resolution you’ve made, or are you one of the 80%, like me?

Someday, I will get my act together months before Christmas and start scouting for presents instead of this “week before Christmas scrounging around stores for leftovers and hoping the stuff I bought on-line makes it in time” ordeal.

Someday, I will take family pictures and make adorable Christmas cards to send before Christmas instead of March (like I did one year).

Someday, I will remember to do our Advent activities with my girls every day leading up to Christmas instead of just telling them to go watch Elf for a fourth time.

Someday, I will forego the typical, cheap wrapping paper that always tears at the corners, and buy the heavy-duty craft paper and hand-stamp beautiful prints on all the presents, with perfectly tied and curled ribbons, all coordinated under the tree.

Someday, we will actually hang the outdoor lights instead of staring at them tangled up in the bottom of the bin and deciding, “Nah.”

Someday, the girls and I will bake and deliver cookies to our neighbors (but that will have to be in another neighborhood, because we’ve lived here for too long to still not know our neighbors’ names).

Someday, we will host a Christmas party with all of our friends, and I will wear a fancy holiday party dress for the first time in my life.

Someday, I will find the perfect gift for Lukus on my own, without him making a massive list of ridiculously expensive things that I couldn’t find even if we could afford them.

Someday, we will be able to afford those expensive presents because we were smart enough to save money, but we will reject the expensive presents because we’ll realize that we have everything we want already.

Someday, I will not gag over raw turkey guts and manage to make a full Christmas dinner, set out the fancy dishes and have a lovely candlelight dinner with our loved ones – after Eisley is old enough to stop throwing food on the floor, which come to think of it, should really be about now.

Someday, we will serve dinner at a soup kitchen – again, after Eisley is old enough to stop throwing food on the floor, which, again, come to think of it, should really be about now.

Someday, I will make sure that those things happen, but I’m betting they won’t all happen in the same Christmas.

But today?  This Christmas?  This Christmas, I make peace with the small, quiet, simple, imperfect, modestly decorated, barely-planned holiday, where the things I have planned will probably go wrong, where a few gifts will probably end up getting returned, where the weather may very well be unpleasant, and the smiles I’m hoping for on my children’s faces could turn into pouts and early naps.  This year, I’m going to consider anything beyond giving birth in a stable in a new town a huge success.

Merry Grace-Filled Christmas!

What are you doing this year, and what’s on your “Someday Christmas” list?

I’m not sure how it is that you can spend the first thirty years of your life not knowing what you want to be when you grow up when it’s been staring you in the face since you were four.  But that’s just how I roll.  I keep wondering what took me so long – why I’ve been in the dark for years whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to do with my life, or what my passion is.  Why, dear God, WHY did I waste all that money on an advertising degree?

I was waiting for someone with a special glint in their eye, and a knowing tone in their voice to walk up to me and say, “Elle, you should do this_______________,” a shining prophecy so that I could know for certain.  I’ve considered everything from documentary film-maker to yoga instructor.  I got a bit closer when I thought about going back to school for a degree in architecture, then Taytem was born and I thought real estate might be easier with a kid.

Never mind the fact that when I was a kid, I never played with my Barbies, but I DID take an old trunk of my mom’s, transform it into a Barbie house and was constantly trying to find new ways to decorate it.  Never mind the fact that at seven years old, even though we were extremely “financially challenged”, having a color-coordinated bedroom was very important to me, and my mom always made sure that I got it, even if she and my dad had to make everything themselves.  The fact that painting my best friend Rachel’s furniture and cleaning her room to perfection sounded WAY more fun than going swimming should have been a clue – Rachel sat on her bed reading magazines while I voluntarily organized her entire room top to bottom.  Or maybe I should have known when I spent part of my summer away from college building a coffee table for mine and Mandy’s dorm room.  When we got back to school, we moved furniture around, acquired a recliner, and arranged pictures on the wall until it looked like a home.  I swelled with pride every time one of our dorm mates told us we had the best room in the dorms.  Perhaps the most telling sign should have been the fact that during each of the 14 hours of labor in giving birth to my daughters, the entire labor was spent watching HGTV.

And yet somehow it escaped me that I wanted to be an interior designer.  No one in my family seemed to notice that every time we got together for holidays, we did four things:  eat profane amounts of chicken enchiladas or pie, argue about religion and politics, play 42, and do some kind of house project at whoever’s house we were gathering.  My sister got her bedroom wallpaper absent-mindedly stripped by me and my mom while we talked and my sister curled her hair.  My brother got a kid’s mini-loft built in his den.  I got a quilt sewn with my mom’s help when I didn’t have enough money to buy a comforter for mine and Lukus’ bed.  Home design and DIY projects were in my very DNA, and yet they all suggested that I become a teacher.

Then one day over the summer, it suddenly came to me.  The thoughts rolled in:  ”I’m obsessed with design.  There are times when I can think of nothing else but finding the perfect rug, or a beautiful table.  I’d rather work on a house project than do almost anything else.  Maybe I should be a designer?”  I mentioned it to Lukus and he acted like it was a pretty obvious idea.  But I wasn’t totally sure.  My hang-up was that I’d grown up with ministers for parents, and I’d always thought that I needed to do something of “eternal value” (they never told me that, I just came to feel that way on my own).  Home design seemed so frivolous, so materialistic, so temporal.

But I loved it.  And I realized that it must have value if I love it so much.  I got over my doubts and embraced my dream of design.

The next day, I’m not kidding, the VERY NEXT DAY, I was sitting in the same coffee shop that I go to every week, and in walked Kellie Clements of Design Star on HGTV – this cute lady:

I’m a huge fan of Design Star and knew that Kellie was from the Oklahoma City area (representin’!), and OKC is a small world, but THE VERY NEXT DAY after my personal design passion revelation?!  It was like the prophetic moment that I’d always wanted, except that I’d already discovered what I wanted.  I said her name, and she turned and introduced herself.  She was so friendly and sweet (just like on Design Star), and she let me ask her all kinds of questions before she’d even had a chance to order her coffee.  She even gave me her card (so much cooler than an autograph), and I left that day, knowing, for sure, what I wanted to be when I grow up.

And it’s funny, you’d think I’d anxiously run off and start trying to get myself into the design biz, whether going back to school or trying to intern with my new BFF Kellie (just kidding, I only talked to her the one time).  But it’s more of like a calm has settled in my heart, like I know who I am now and I can wait for the right time to pursue my dreams.  Raising my girls is more important.  Supporting my husband during a busy season is more important.  Getting our finances in a good position is more important.  And now that I know what it is that I want to do with myself, I’m okay with doing everything else in a way that I never have been before.

Which is why I haven’t even written about all of this until now, I guess.  I’m hoping that 2012 will bring some design opportunities, but right now, I’m good with finishing out 2011 just focusing on my family – and of course, where to hang my wreaths, the color scheme for our tree, the living room rug I want for Christmas….I mean, I know my priorities, but I’m not DEAD inside!

Did you always know what you wanted to be, or was it slow coming like me?  Did you ever feel like your passion wasn’t “good enough” for some reason?  Are you living your passion, or are you putting other priorities first?  Please tell me there are others out there still figuring it out!

By the way, if you’re on Facebook, check out Kellie’s page Modern Whimsy.  She’s got some fun stuff going on!