Five-Minute Friday: Lost

 Get lost.

This weekend may you get lost in a good story.

Lose your composure and have a good cry.  A belly laugh.  A jump for joy.

Get lost in the music.  In your thoughts.  In your art.

Lose yourself in watching that sweet baby sleep.

In being thankful for this good, good life.

Take a moment to get lost and let those kids come find you.  Then do it again. 

Take that loved one by the hand and get lost together so you can find one another after all this time.

Just ... get lost this weekend.

-Liv

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How I...Forgive

I grew up hearing about forgiveness.  I heard how Jesus forgave me for my sins.  I was taught to forgive when somebody broke my crayons or stepped on my toe.  Children forget and move on so easily.  Playing is more fun than being mad.  Really, forgiveness was a vague concept for me back then.  As an adult, forgiveness has proven to be much more complicated.  How do I know I've really forgiven and moved on, especially when the issue keeps popping it's ugly self up?

I remember that first bowled-over-punched-in-the-gut feeling.  The betrayal knocked the wind right out of me.  What I hated most was that as much as I wanted to hurt that person back, I knew I had to forgive them.  As much as I wanted them to feel the exact shame, stupidity, naivete and betrayal that they made me feel, I had to let go of my right to stay angry.  And trust me - I felt entitled to it.  I had been wronged.  No doubt about it.

It felt so unfair.  Here I was left holding my broken heart in one hand and my anger in the other.  I now had the responsibility of sorting out those feelings and trying to figure out how to forgive and I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO HAD DONE ANYTHING WRONG IN THE FIRST PLACE!  It felt like they got off easy. 

This is what I have learned:

Anger is not a sin.  Uncontrolled anger and a temper are.  There are situations when anger is a correct, normal emotion.  I learned that it is okay to acknowledge my anger and to let myself be angry.   But I can't stop there.  I mean, I guess I could, but I don't want to shrivel up into an angry and bitter person.

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger...  Ephesians 4:26

Unforgiveness is a sin.  It is not an option for the believer.  We are commanded to forgive, just as Christ has forgiven us.

  If you forgive others their sins, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But if you don’t forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your sins.  - Matthew 6:14-15

Forgiveness is not sweeping what a person did under the rug.  It does not make what they did okay.  It definitely does not mean that I am a doormat to continue abusing and walking over.  It does not even mean that I have to continue a relationship with that person.  Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation.  Unfortunately, sometimes reconciliation is not possible.

It is not up to me to decide whether a person is truly sorrowful for what they did or just sorry they got caught.  That is between them and God.  My responsibility is for myself.  My heart.  My anger.  My forgiveness.   

How do I forgive?

All at once and then a little bit at a time.

I forgive all at once by intentionally making the decision that I am going to forgive.   But it doesn't stop there.

I may still feel hurt.  And anger.  And betrayal.  That person may not be on my favorites list.  This is when I forgive a little bit at a time.  Every time I am reminded about how I have been wronged, I have to choose again to forgive. 

Wouldn't it be great if we chose once to forgive and that would be the end of it?  That may be the case over spilt milk, but in many situations, forgiveness is a process.  A habit.  Sometimes I must choose forgiveness daily - or moment by moment.  Just like I must choose joy daily.  Just like I have to choose whether or not I am going to exercise today.  Or pray.  Or have a good attitude.  Every. Single. Day.  I have to choose.  Some days I mess it up big time.  I am just too weary ... or lazy, to fight for it.  I spend the day angry and sad and miserable.  I do not want those days to become my every day.

I have found that as time has passed, the wounds have begun to heal.  I find that I am no longer consumed by all the feelings.  The scars remain.  Reminders pop up.  Sometimes I feel some irritation, but as long as I don't pick at it - it subsides.  I continue to choose forgiveness.  Because, although some really sucky things have happened, mostly, really great things have happened to me.  Like Jesus and His forgiveness.  Like a family and a home and friendship.  Like summer and gardens and Christmas and pretty lights.  I have too many good things to live for.  So today, I choose forgiveness because I am worth it.  And so are you.

- Liv

This post is a part of a weekly link-up over at wheregivinghappens.com.  Click the button below to read more "How I..." posts.  The next link-up is on July 9th and is on "How I ... Listen".  Join in?  

 

Brown Paper Packages ...

Every now and then a few girlfriends and I will get together for a Pinterest party.  They are full of great ideas, some flops, lots of laughing and of course, food!   This time around I hosted a Favorite Things party.  Oh my!  There are such great ideas out there on Pinterest!  Here's how it went down:

I invited the girls over for coffee and a 'favorite things exchange'.  I stuck with the 'brown paper packages' theme, adding pops of color in the plates, utensils and flowers.

The Invitations

These were fun to make, especially now that we have a Hobby Lobby!  I found the plain brown cards and address labels there.  I hand wrote on the front of the card and printed the details on a Martha Stewart label I bought at Staples.  I finished it off with string I already had around the house.  So simple.  So easy.  My kind of thing! 

The instructions were to bring a favorite thing, $5 or less for each person.  Suggestions were something homemade, lotions, soaps, candles, gift cards, etc.  We kept this gathering small to keep the cost from getting out of hand!

The Decorating

This was my favorite part.  My living room has one couch only, so I brought in pieces of furniture from other rooms to accommodate the seating of more than just 3 bottoms.  I loved the transformation!  I'd keep it this way if it didn't mean empty rooms in other parts of the house!

 

 

 The Food

My next favorite thing is NOT cooking.  I kept the menu very simple.  Probably for most, the food would be the main attraction.  You might enjoy preparing a meal for your friends.  SO NOT ME!  Although I would love to eat anything you make!  It may seem unfair, I know, but it's a public service, really.  The only thing I used the oven for was Pillsbury orange-glazed cinnamon rolls.  I managed to burn the second batch.  THIS IS WHY I WOULD RATHER NOT!  

We had cinnamon rolls that weren't burnt, yogurt with berries and granola, coffee mocha almonds, strawberry almonds, coffee and biscotti and strawberry lemonade.

Yum!

I'm hoping the cute wooden spoons (Hobby Lobby) and french-pressed coffee made up for the lack of culinary creativity!

The Friends 

This was my absolute favorite part!  These girls just laughed with me over the burnt cinnamon rolls and loved me anyway.  We ate.  We cooed over our baby guest.  We caught up on what's been going on in our worlds because no matter how often we try to get together, it's never enough!

The Gifts

Each lady shared what her favorite books, quotes, music, hobbies, etc. are.  A common favorite was the author, Francine Rivers and her Mark of the Lion series and Redeeming Love.  If you haven't read these - YOU MUST!  Of course coffee, chocolate and family were among other common favorites. 

Then we each passed out our gifts.  Here are some of the goodies:

I gave a Dayspring mug because COFFEE and because I love that Dayspring carries (in)courage items
A journal and something pretty to hang on the wall
Fuzzy socks and a Bath and Body Works candle
Melalueca lip balm, a great pen and chocolate
Bath salts and a candy bar that was gone before I could take a picture
An adorable 31 nail file (love their bags!) and lotion
A Pinterest craft: Flip flops that we slip-knotted cording around.  Such a fun activity to end our morning!

Everyone went home with a box full of favorite things!  We had a great time!  I'm not a cook and my home is not perfect, but I can always offer a cup of coffee and a place to sit down together.   I do love brown paper packages tied up with string, but friends are one of my most favorite things!

Have you ever hosted or been to a Pinterest party or a Favorite Things party?  I'd love to hear about it!  Or post a link in the comments if you've blogged about it!

- Liv

Check out this cover of "My Favorite Things" from the Sound of Music!

"Yo Soy Contento": Remembering my Tata

Remembering my Tata always, but especially today.  Wishing I was sitting in his living room listening to him talk and sipping my Nana's iced tea.  He went home to be with his Jesus one year ago.  I am re-posting what I wrote that day:

The smell of corn tortillas warming on a black griddle and Mexican music takes me instantly to my grandparent's house.  We visited them about once a year, growing up.  As soon as we walked in we'd hear, "HEY!  Long time no see!"

My Tata was loud and feisty.  He spoke a little English.  I speak very little Spanish.  Two things he was sure to say several times during our visits were "Noni!", calling my Nana, and "Cierra la puerta!" (close the door!).  He didn't want the cold air to go out the front door with the opening and closing. 

Although I couldn't understand 90% of what he was saying, I enjoyed hearing him talk about politics and Jesus, because he was passionate about both.  And his laughter.  It was the kind that makes you want to laugh too.  He had a singing fish - the kind that is on a wooden plaque that dances when you press the button.  My Tata would laugh every time he heard it.  He also had a stuffed parrot that would repeat everything you said.  It wouldn't take long for us to tire of it, but he never did.  Haha!  The things that gave him joy. 

Jesus also gave him joy.  He loved church.  During worship time he would clap his hands big.  Not loud big, but round big.  He would bring his hands up and together around in circle.  And always off beat.  Although he didn't know the words very well he would sing them loudly.  Mostly they were wrong.  *Smile*

When we last sat in his living room he said many times, "Yo soy contento." (I am happy).  My Nana interpreted as he told us that he was happy for his home and his car and that he had many children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He was happy that we were there visiting with him.  He talked about coming to visit us.  We knew that at 94, that would not be possible for him.  We brought him a pastry from the Mexican bakery.  My sister, Ang and I peeked into "our" room to see if the Donald Duck light switch plate we remembered was still there.  It was.  It used to glow in the dark.  We had some of my Nana's iced tea.  Nobody makes it like she does.  We took pictures and after a wonderful time, we hugged goodbye. 
 

I didn't know that it would be our last goodbye.  Today, my Tata went home to be with his Jesus.  Although I am sad, I smile as I imagine him singing and dancing and clapping that big round clap.  Offbeat.  He's laughing and saying "yo soy contento".  I'll see him again.  When I do I'm going to give him a big hug and say, "Long time no see!".  And we will be contento.  Muy contento.

I love you, Tata.

Five Minute Friday: Messenger

I got this text message from my son the other morning:

 

Oh, my heart.

Although we will see him later this summer, I'm jelly that my sister and nephew are spending a week with him AND I'M NOT THERE.

It's been six months.  Six months since a piece of my heart jumped on a bus and headed out of state to have his own adventures.  Six months since I've wrapped my arms around him, as he towers over me.  For over six months we have had milk and cheese in the fridge.  I haven't heard my daughter say, "Who ate all the...".  I haven't told him to do his laundry, or that his clothes are too wrinkly or to put his dishes in the sink.  (I'm not sayin' it hasn't crossed my mind...) It has been SIX MONTHS TOO LONG.

This boy makes me laugh.  And exasperates me.  He was born with a smile and a sense of humor.  This is the little boy who clung to me every time the scary garbage truck came by; the little guy who refused to ride the ferris wheel.  He still does.  He has brought such joy and laughter; some battles and tears.  Through it all, it is so good to know that he loves his momma. So so much.

How I Write

I love blogging.  I think often about you and what I want to say to you.  I wish I could write here more frequently because I like you so much!

I started blogging for two reasons:

1) I have always enjoyed writing, but like many things we love in life - I rarely made time for it.  I wanted to have a reason to force myself to slow down and just do it.  And you are a great reason!  I love writing to you!

I've kept a journal for as long as I can remember.  When we were assigned book reports in grade school, I secretly did a happy dance while the rest of the class moaned.  I wondered why everyone dreaded it so much - I just wrote what came into my mind and it sounded like how I think.  It came so much easier to me than math.  Writing allows me to sort my thoughts so I can say exactly what I mean.  I feel like you really get to know a person by how and what they write.  It's so personal.  If I have something important to say to you I am going to write it, because when I say it out loud, it doesn't seem to come out right.

2) I wanted to create a space for encouragement.  Being a wife, mommy, daughter, sister, friend and human in general can be hard and we need each other!

At this point I don't keep a schedule.  If something is on my mind, I write it.  In anything I write, I am preaching to myself.  If I write a post encouraging you to see your value, it is because I am feeling inadequate myself.  It takes me anywhere from a few hours to several days to write a post.  No matter how long it takes - I can't concentrate on anything else until I've hit publish!  I become obsessed!  I have a writing room, which I love to use because it's pretty and smells nice, but my favorite spot is in between the sheets with a cup of something and my thoughts.  I do my best thinking in the morning after a good nights sleep.  I'm a morning person fer shur.

As with anything, I have plentiful seasons and I have dry seasons.  I keep quiet during the scarce times because I never want to write empty words just to fill space.  Ain't nobody got time for that!  It's during these times that I most appreciate link-ups and prompts, because I really do want to talk to you!   I have met some of my biggest encouragers and the sweetest people through link-ups.  I am blessed to have come across such wonderful blogging communities!

And that is basically it.  Simple.  Very un-perfect.  I just ... write.  Because I love it.  And because I like you.  So  per chance somebody wanted my advice it would be this:

Just do it.  There is no perfect formula.  We have to start somewhere.  If I had waited until I had more time, or more experiences or did more research, I would never have begun.  Just take the first step.  And besides, it's cheap therapy!

 "Forget all the rules.  Forget about being published. Write for yourself and celebrate  writing." - Melinda Haynes

- Liv

 

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The "How I..." Community

I think I love link-ups!  I am joining the "How I..." community!

Elise Hurd over at The Giving Place recognizes that...

"We need each other’s wisdom, perspectives, and life experiences.

I have days where I am desperate for another approach to try, for a fresh perspective, for the words to say, for the prayer to pray, for a resource to try.

And I have experiences I would like to share without them coming across as a prescription for your circumstances." (Elise Hurd)

We all like to share what works for us in a myriad of situations and I appreciate all the help I can get from others.  But if you're like me, I'd much rather hear "this is how I do/did it" rather than "you should do this or that".  The first gives you the option to evaluate whatever bit of advice is being given and choose if it will work for your particular situation.  I would rather hear and learn from your story than be told what to do.

This is why Elise created the "How I..." community.  Each week she will post a prompt.  We will have an opportunity to share our experiences or perspective on the given prompt on our blogs or in the comments.

The first link-up goes live this Wednesday, June 11th.  The prompt is:

How I...Write

If you have a blog, you can head on over here to link up, or come back to LivGrace on Wednesday and join in on the comments or on Facebook.

Yay for learning from each others stories!

Five-Minute Friday: Nothing

I'm not very good at doing nothing.
From the moment I open my eyes in the morning until I close them at night, my brain is busy.  I used to think this was a virtue.  I've measured a days success by how early I got up and how much I got done.  A ruler of my worth.  Exhausting.  On the "unsuccessful" days I went to bed feeling worthless.  Like a failure.

Often when I wander into the living room in the morning, Scotty will be sitting on the couch sipping a cup of coffee.  Doing nothing.  Thinking nothing.  Like really.  Nothing.  When we were first married I would plop down next to him and ask, "whatcha thinkin' about?".  "Ain't nothing going on up here", he would say.  It baffled me.  I don't know what that is like.  How can you not be thinking anything?  

Nowadays I am longing to learn to do nothing and be okay with it. 

Just sitting with someone, saying nothing.  In contentment.  In grief. 
Giving my brain a rest from all the things.
What if I gave all my moments to God? 
Not having to fix everything.  Not having to be in control. 
Not having to prove my worth by what I've done - isn't that the beauty of grace?
Rest.  Quiet.  Stillness.  Silence.
Peace.

Sometimes nothing is everything. 

- Liv  

Head over to Lisa-JoBaker.com to find other Five-Minute Friday link ups!

Hanging out with M

I picked up my nephew on the way home from work yesterday so his parents could go out for their anniversary.  Happy Anniversary Sister and Java!  M pulled his cowboy boots on the wrong feet and walked awkwardly with me to the car.  I love that he's excited to be going to my house.  He handed me his cowboy gun and Spider Man bubbles so we could buckle him in.

Being the awesome aunt that I am, I have a Veggie Tales CD in my car for days such as this.  As I sang along with Madam Blueberry I thought for sure I was scoring cool points with the two year old in my backseat.  I looked in the rear view mirror expecting to see my nephew smiling at me, as excited about singing broccoli as I was.  He was asleep and unimpressed that I was droppin' the beat.  Oh well.  I pulled into the driveway, record scratchin', bass pumpin', "...scuba, scuba, scuby duby duba, here we go scuba. Come on..."  That's just how I roll. 

M fussed as I laid him on the couch.  He crawled back into my arms and back to sleep.  He filled my lap and my heart, all sweaty, glasses askew.  I kissed his forehead.  It won't be long and he will be off having big boy adventures and he won't have time or tolerance for "Tia Wivia's" lap or kisses.  I decided to enjoy having him there, because, BEING PRESENT.  I just sat.  ...Until my legs fell asleep. Then I carefully laid him on the floor AND managed to slide his boots off and remove his glasses.  If you only knew what an accomplishment this is.  The boy loves his boots.

When he awoke later, he sleepily climbed back into my lap, drifting lazily in and out.  Feeling slightly and by that I mean barely *minuscule space between thumb and finger* guilty that such a late nap will mean a late night for my sister (call it payback for many long nights when she was M's age), I finally lured him fully awake with the promise of watching Spider Man after dinner.

We negotiated about important things like which bowl he was going to eat out of.  We're talking national security here, people.  We read about red and blue fish and silly things like 7 hump zumps, or wumps ... or whatever.  We watched Spider Man and then hung out in the hammock on the back patio.

By now it was dark and "Uncle Thcott" had turned on the sprinkler to water the weeds, I mean, grass. This fascinated M.  He watched as the sprinkler spit-fired water out into the black.  The gears in his head were turning.  Suddenly he was on his knees behind the sprinkler with his chubby fingers wrapped around the nozzle. He pointed it out into the yard, aiming at imaginary bad guys.  At one point he looked back at me and said, "I'm shooting the dark".  It was all great until he had accidentally released the lock that kept the sprinkler from spinning full circle. It made a full rotation, soaking the patio, spraying M's face and my pants.  We screamed and ran inside. Uncle Thcott rescued the patio while M and I dried off.

After we threw his wet clothes into the dryer, M settled in to watch Toy Story.  We sat there, just the two of us - M in his boxers; me with my throw blanket and laptop.  We had a great time.  Oh, and sorry about the long night, Sister.  Bwahaha!

Because any day is a good day to honor my mom ...

Mothers and daughters become closest when daughters become mothers. - author unkown

Our hair was always combed up.  I remember feeling the skin around my eyes stretch into a slant as my mom pulled my hair back tight into a pony tail.  The worst was when those little colored balls that were attached to the pony tail holder would slip out of her fingers and pop me on the head.  My mom made sure our clothes and faces were clean whenever we went out.  We had the same routine every night.  We would watch Little House on the Prairie and then it was off to bed.  She would come in to the room my sister and I shared and give us each three kisses, "Good night." Kiss.  "I love you." Kiss.  "See you in the morning" Kiss.  Angela and I would give in to giggles when the lights went out, as we discovered secret tunnels under the blankets.

My dad was off to Korea with the military and my memories are filled with Sunday School and waiting for my sister to get home from the bus stop.  We were the best of friends and our imaginations took us out into the wilderness where we collected berries to survive.  We had pretend names, Didi and Hahaiya. Where those names came from, I have no idea!  While mom and her friends played Yahtzee, we played "elephants", marching around the oval of the braided rug in our room.  Laughter poured from my mom as she and her girlfriends talked about whatever grown ups talk about.  She laughed a lot.

Kool-Aid was a staple in our home.  Mom collected the points from the back of the packets.  We loved drinking out of the white plastic Kool-Aid Man cups we had earned.  She loved Tupperware and Avon parties.  We had the lovely mustard, olive green, brown and orange plates and mugs.  I still have the little Avon necklace she gave me.  It has three colored "candy" conversation hearts on it that say "I love you".

Dad came back from Korea and we moved to a new apartment.  Another sister came and then a baby brother.  Mom got us off to school every day and was always there to pick us up after.  I remember one day I came to the car in tears.  My teacher had embarrassed me in front of the class over a poor math grade.  Mom took me in to the school office and confronted my third grade teacher, not caring who was listening.  She was my hero that day.

Another baby sister came when I was in junior high.  I was growing up and my parents didn't know anything.  Mom reminded me that I was loved when I was convinced everyone in the family hated me.  How she endured those emotional, eye rolling, attitude filled days, I'll never know. 

She is still my hero.  I may never know all of the sacrifices she has made or remember all the hurtful things I may have and said or done as a teenager.  What I do know is that there is nobody who loves me or prays for me the way my mom does.  She was there through a miscarriage and the birth of my babies.  Through heartache and sickness she still smiles. She loves.  She prays.  She mothers.

Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing. ~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987

 If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been. ~Robert Brault

Five Minute Friday: Mess

Ever heard the saying, "I'm so far behind I thought I was first"?  That's me today!  Wishing it was Friday and that tomorrow wasn't Monday!  So here's a little bit of Friday for you!  I've linked up at Lisa-Jo Baker's . 

We sit in the busy cafe, just the three of us.  The smell of bacon and the clinking of spoons stirring in coffee cups surrounds us.  We drove 28 scenic miles to get here.  Scotty, Cel and I.  I've always enjoyed the drive to Bisbee.  And this morning, it's a nice respite from the mess of thoughts and emotions that have been swirling around in my mind.

Some mornings you wake up and wonder how you got here.  How life turned out so differently than you had planned.  While most days you are grateful for how blessed you are, sometimes you become wistful for the way things were or how they are supposed to be.  The sadness creeps in over relationships that have been lost, the heart break of a teen's choices, the missing of loved ones. It's days like these when I wish Scotty and I shared the same faith; that we could pray together.

But for now, amidst the chatter of fellow diners, the stack of dishes on the counter is forgotten. I drown my guilt of not cooking for my family for days, with coffee.  I momentarily forget the frustration of an injury that has kept me from exercise and the extra pounds that have crept onto my hips.  The trials of raising teens shift to the back of my mind as we plan our summer vacation.

And on the drive home I lean my head back as I listen to my girl singing along to a country tune in the back seat. Yes, life has thrown some punches and the mess of the ordinary every day sometimes feels overwhelming. But in the middle of all that I have my family, I have my God, and it is well with my soul.

 

 

Photo Credit

- Liv

Five-Minute Friday: Friend

She laughs with me.  And when my heart is broken she wraps her arms around me tight and cries with me.  She listens.  She prays. 

We meet for a quick cup of coffee, but it easily turns into three hours.  We share dessert, thoughts, books, good morning texts. 

She sees my quirks and loves me anyway.  She sees my strengths and reminds me of them when I forget.  She encourages me to keep going and cautions me to slow down when I get carried away.

She's the first one I think to call when I have good news.  When I have bad news.  When I just want to talk about nothing and everything.

She is beautiful.  She is a gift.  She is my friend.

Five-Minute Friday how I have missed you!  I am linking up with other writers at lisajobaker.com for five minutes of writing where we have permission to make mistakes and to be ourselves!