just hold on.

When I was four, I thought the rodeo and the radio were the same word. I was certain that the rodeo was this giant concert you went to, and country artists just sang and sang and sang, all through the night, and the dj's aired everything live on the radio. I distinctly remember standing in the kitchen around that age and saying, "Momma, when I grow up I wanna tour with Reba on the rodeo." Okay, child.

From 7 through 19, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I even went to an Ag college and took pre-vet classes. They were fantastic until I discovered that I just wanted to cuddle animals, not perform surgery on them.

Then I became absolutely certain that I would join a sorority, study abroad, become a writer, and settle down in a little house in the country with years worth of stories to tell, and a country-grown husband and 2.5 children to listen to them. But guess what?

.LIFE DOESN'T HAPPEN THE WAY YOU THINK IT SHOULD.

It hurts. It stings. It throws curve balls when you didn't even know you were in the game. Sometimes, life is just plain mean. But sometimes it turns out even better than you had planned. God has plans for you that you haven't even fathomed. And although I believe this wholeheartedly, if you had told me 2 years ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago that I would be where I am today, I still would have scoffed and cried and thrown a fit. But think of the travel! Think of the stories! Think of all the things you're missing out on! Think of how hurt you've been and how much you deserve this! past me would yell at present me. [Past me was a bit dramatic, to say the least.]

I often see articles where people think of all the things they want to tell their former self. I've thought about this a lot. Probably more than a normal person should, but HEY, if Brad Paisley can write a song about it, then I can let me sweet little mind wander. Not that it does any good, seeing as how each time I ponder it, I can only come up with one.single.thing that I would say to me:

Just hold on.

And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It doesn't take away from the lessons of my past experiences, and it doesn't steal the joy in all the .beautiful. things that have happened to me since the Courtney Crash of 2010.

Someone I love very dearly is having a rough time juggling the never ending downpour of "This isn't where I thought I would be." To that, I say darling, just hold on. There are wonderful, mesmerizing, unforgettably fantastic things ahead of you. We simply have to reignite the flame that was alive when we were young. The flame that says I can do anything. I can be anything. And if you think otherwise, then by God, I'm going to prove you wrong.

I took a quiz today - one of those super fancy Buzz Feed quizzes that makes you wonder if someone is secretly telling the editor's secrets about you. This particular one was, "What career should you really have?"

"You should be a writer: you have a skill for language, your imagination is vast and you are artistic and creative. Your brain is just overflowing with ideas, and all you have to do is get a piece of paper and share it with the world. You were born to turn words into magical stories."

Ah, so perhaps my fate isn't decided just yet. The wonderful thing about your life not being quite where you thought it would be? You can still direct where it's going.

How do you know?

I love skimming through the Facebook page for "Humans of New York." It's a pretty fabulous idea, really. A man with a camera walks around the streets of New York City and asks people to tell them a little bit about themselves. Sometimes they are funny...

"I've taken over five thousand portraits of people in New York, and I find out a little bit about everyone I photograph..."

"Well, you're not finding out a thing about me!"

Sometimes they are sad...

"I was never once afraid to fight. I was a brawler. A bull. I even fought in Madison Square Garden. But it knocked me out for a whole year when my mom died."

Today, one had me really thinking.

"I remember the first time that I knew I loved him and I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. We were driving down some back road in Utah, and we stopped at a light in front of an old water park, and he looked to the left to make a turn. And at that moment, I knew. And that night he kissed me for the first time."
"But you said he looked left. Weren't you sitting on his right?"
"Yeah, I was looking at the back of his head. Not quite as romantic, is it?"

I know people always say "When you know, you know!" when they feed you icky cliche quotes dripping with cheese about destiny and fate and timing. But you know what? I like cheese. And there really is no other way to put it, other than when you know, you really freaking know.

The beginning of our relationship was laden with crap that should have sent us running (and to be honest, one of us did try to run... But I convinced him not to). After knowing who he was since I was in grade school, we finally met in a bar while I was gulping whiskey, and still neither of us remember the details of the first few times that we hung out. It was supposed to be easy breezy and no strings attached. But after knowing each other for just over two weeks, on what was probably one of the worst nights of his life, he asked me to be his girlfriend. It was Halloween, and his kids were not brought home on time. In fact, they weren't brought home for another 20 days. He was miserable. He was erratic. He was a parent who didn't know where his babies were. I understood that he was probably only asking me to be his girlfriend because he was vulnerable, he was sad, and it was about to be the longest night in his entire life. So I stayed with him that night. And the next night. And the next night...

Two weeks later, and still no kids. It was also my 26th birthday. I was living in a tiny apartment in the ghetto (no really - g h e t t o!), and he decided he was tired of staying at his house without them there. He came over carrying a toothbrush and a 12 pack of Busch beer. He'd been in meetings with lawyers all day, and he looked like he'd aged about ten years in just thirteen days. By the end of the night, he was finally pissed off.  He punched pillows on my bed until the frame shook, and I remember thinking to myself Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?

And I immediately answered my own question: love. 

In that horrible second, I knew there was nowhere else I'd rather be. After knowing him for exactly 30 days, I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him... while he was punching pillows, cursing the entire world, and having the most miserable, taxing, gut-wrenching moment of his life. That Human of New York was absolutely right. Falling in love is not always so romantic. Sometimes it's messy. Sometimes it's really hard. But it is always worth it.

Nine days later, after his kids were home and safe, he said it was time for us to call it quits. He said I deserved someone who didn't have messy situations, and he would be okay with just him and the kids. But I am a horribly stubborn woman so I didn't go anywhere. Three months later, we were painting the kitchen when he said, "Hey. I love you, too. You hear me?" I'm not sure how long he'd known it, but I figure it was somewhere between the whiskey on day 1 and not leaving him on day 39, even after he told me to go.

It's day 572. Every night we sleep on the pillows that he beat to a pulp, and every night I am reminded that when you know, you know.

Vertical Living - Look Up.

This morning, my boss and I trekked across the great state of the O-K-L-A for a 3 day Financial Aid conference. Per our usual routine, we spent the morning talking about what we did the night before. We usually talk about the kids and their crazy antics, our significant others "acting like guys," all the things we didn't get done, and how much we love our families in spite of their flaws. And far too often, I am ashamed to say, the conversation ends up looking like this: flaw. flaw. flaw. I love them to pieces, but oh my gosh that flaw!

I'm human. And sometimes I err. And sometimes that err is aloud.

This morning, I told my boss that I was ready to give up on a situation. More specifically, a person. I was tired of feeling guilty, I was tired of feeling like a bad person, I was tired of feeling inadequate, and I was tired of putting forth effort with little to no results. I was done with one step forward two steps back.

Enter Robin Marsh.

Robin was the keynote speaker at our Financial Aid conference. She is friends with Miss America, she is a news anchor on Channel 9 in Oklahoma City, and she has nothing to do with financial aid. My boss and I looked at each with the same thought: this is pointless - what is she even doing here?

Enter Robin Marsh.

She gave the most moving speech I have ever in my life had the pleasure of hearing. She said, "When you verbalize gratitude, you foster peace. You foster positivity. I call it a vertical living, because you look up, and you give thanks to God... Don't let flesh make you look out. Look up. If you compare, you foster instant disaster. Look up."

She asked us what we are thankful for. Family, friends, health, life, faith. These answers were repeated throughout the room. My immediate thought was that I was thankful for Chris and the kids. But then a voice appeared in the back of my human, erroneous mind and said, Nope! Remember? We're done with effort with one of those individuals! No mas from this girl! Dunzo!

Enter Robin Marsh.

She spoke right to me when she gave the following message: young girls need us. There's a young girl that needs you. A girl can look in a magazine and in just 90 seconds, she will feel worse about herself.   [Robin then snapped her fingers, counting the 90 seconds; the room was silent.]   Dare to compare? Let's dare NOT to. Let's be role models to the girls who need us. Let's not allow one burr in our boot keep us from making a difference in one person's life. That person needs you.

There in the middle of conference room with 200+ people, in the front row of tables, with my boss and peers and a news anchor in front of me, I had tears falling down my cheeks. Robin said she had something for us. She and Miss America 2007, Lauren Nelson, had written a book. "God, Girls, and Getting Connected: Spiritual Apps for a Teen's Life." I thought to myself I want that for P, but I don't have any money.

Without skipping a beat, Robin looked my direction and said, "If you can't afford, I will give you one. You need it that much."

Enter God.

I'm sure Robin was talking to every person in that room. But she was seeking me. I felt it. I felt her message. And for the first time in a long time, I felt God. I felt Him within me, I felt Him as me, I felt Him in her words and in my heart. 

At this time, she quoted Romans 12:15. 

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

She said the rules are simple. If you are happy, let me celebrate with you. If you are going through a hard time, then let me cry with you. But always be grateful for the storm, because there is joy there. Think of what could come of it. Think of what you could do for that young girl.

I don't often like to share my religious beliefs or spiritual feelings with people, let alone social media. But I tell you this: I was completely enveloped in the love of Christ today. I absolutely cannot wait to get home, hug the individual that I vow here and now to never ever ever give up on, and hand her the book that Robin Marsh signed for her; wrote for her; worked on with God for the betterment of her life.

And mine.

Funny how a conference meant for financial aid professionals can have a profound effect on my heart; how a book meant for a pre-teen can change my relationship with God; and how one speech can change the rest of my life.

Showing Love

Speaking of appreciation....


When I get mad at Chris for whatever crazy reason I come up with, 4 things usually happen.

1. I wasp around, pretending not to be mad until I finally explode.
2. I explain in various ways why I'm mad, usually not getting the real reason to roll off my tongue until much later in the argument conversation; he then gets frustrated that I'm even mad about it in the first place.
3. We are silent for a short period of time, we continue to kiss and say I love you and try our hardest to pretend not to be mad, until we finally AREN'T mad anymore (being mad is no fun, it doesn't solve problems, and not kissing and loving on him just does not fit into my schedule).
4. We talk about it. 

The last argument we had, I literally had steam coming out of my ears. The culmination of many things led me to burst (see number 1, above). The next day, he went to work while the kids and I had a snow day. I cleaned the bedroom, vacuumed the house, folded sheets, washed dishes, climbed through 3 loads of his laundry, had dinner waiting on the table for him when he got home, and offered up a foot rub immediately afterward.

But I was ticked off. Why did I do all those things for him?

Being angry does not justify not showing love. He still worked hard all day, he still provided for our family, he still deserves to come home to a woman who loves him with all her heart - even if her mind is still slightly full of steam instead of paper hearts. 

appreciation station.

Life throws curve balls. Sometimes, they're just regular boring slightly curved balls. Sometimes, they're curve balls that shoot a million miles an hour out of one of those machines and it gets stuck and keeps shooting them before you've even had time to swing at the last one and pretty soon you just stand at home plate, ducking every now and then, staring at all the damn balls at your feet.

That's how February has been in our household. It's okay though, because it means all 4 of us have learned how to communicate more effectively (though we don't always choose to do so); it means that we have spent a lot more time together as a family than we had originally planned; it means that we are all learning to give respect if we want to get it; and it means we are adapting every day to being a home.

March is a happy happy month: it will mark my mother's 60th 30th Again birthday, and it marks the first signs of spring.

Ah, I love spring. Flowers and grasses that you thought were dead all winter suddenly come back to life, and front yards look like the fields in Oz, rather than the icky hay-swamps of Nowhere, Midwest [what? that could be a real thing]. You start seeing baby animals every where you go, all your friends accidentally get preggo from being cooped up all winter, your skin begins to glow from the sun instead of the increasing paleness brought on from wind and lack of Vitamin D. It's a glorious time of year. It's a sign of new beginnings. Better things to come. It's the time of every year when I begin to really look forward to everything that's in store.

It also makes me incredibly thankful for everything that I already have.

I want to make sure that this spring (and every season thereafter), I take the time to show my loved ones how much I truly appreciate them. Not just in words, but also in action. Appreciation comes in many forms, and I do not want to stick to just one. I want to express it in every way possible. I want appreciation to be flowing out of my ears in little pink hearts so everyone can see it, feel it, know it, and share it.

Ah, yes. I love spring.

Parenting is a verb.

I've written about 3 blog entries on my phone that I have yet to post. Yes, yes, I'm slacking.

I'm also behind on my daily devotional book. And my healthy cooking. And my leisure reading. And my workouts.

But I am completely caught up on surviving the flu, taking the kids to the aquarium, cheering my mom through knee surgery, and figuring out how to calm a sweet little boy with strep throat [hint: it's singing crazy African beats].

Until I am able to post the rest of my updates, I will leave you with today's Facebook post where I shamelessly blasted my current frustration. I am so incredibly lucky to have such an amazing support system.

 

 

My goodness. I'm going to cry the happy tears, and then run home to hug my precious little family.

 



The Apology Gift

I'm a woman. A scorpio woman. Do you have any idea what this means?

I'm stubborn. I'm a bad apologizer. And if I'm losing an argument, I will start to pick fights on topics I might have a slight advantage at just to make myself feel like I'm not losing. It goes something like this:

"I'm not mad. I just hate watching this team. They're not even good..." 

[This team was playing great. I was mad because my team lost to them when we weren't playing great]

"Watching this game with you and so-and-so is so annoying, you're not a real sportscaster, stop acting like it..."

[He played college football... he knows his shit. He's basically a college football genius. And he holds Division III records. How hot is that?!]

"You're being a jerk. Why didn't you hug me when I walked in the door?"

[He did. And really, I'm not that needy.]

 "You promised to have dinner with me, why'd you eat ahead of time?"

[I was late getting home from work so his wonderful momma cooked for us to be nice.]

I then complained about no alone time, doing dishes, not being taken seriously, the stress of moving out of my apartment, why everyone hates my dog, the whole house is mean to me, blah blah BLAH oh my GOSH Courtney shut up. Seriously, sometimes I'm just a brat for the sake of being a brat. Or for the sake of PMS and I really can't help that.  Yanno what I was really mad about? Probably just holding a grudge over stupid  overrated  OU Sooners because they beat my Cowboys during the annual Pokey Chokey at Bedlam this year. Really, Mike Gundy?!

Thankfully, my sweets knows me well enough to know not to argue with me when I get like this (don't worry - I never ever call him "sweets" to his face). He hugs me, tells me I'm pretty, and goes to bed. Occasionally I get mad that he won't argue.

And theeeeen I spend the entire following day trying to come up with new ways to apologize. Today, I doodled apology graffiti and sent him artsy fartsy pictures of them. He has also received apology sandals, apology dinners, and apology fishies for the salt-water tank. At this point, he probably gets excited whenever I argue with him because it means he's going to get something really stinking cool the next day.

Tonight, we are going to a fancy shmancy dinner to celebrate all the wonderful starts to our 2014

His best friend got hired on at his office.
My best friend turned 27 today. (Remember, they are married so it isn't weird that we asked them to dinner together).
Most importantly, we are celebrating the union of our.... stuff.

I am moving all of my junk into his house this weekend, and I could not be more excited! Once we get decorated, I'll give a tour of all our new DIY projects (we have a lot going at once... It excites my little DIY heart, and it satisfies his ADD needs).

Eeeeeep. So many exciting things coming up this year, and I cannot wait to share them!

[[ On a side note.... It has been a year since my Papa passed. Part of my heart is with him every day. ]]