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New. Have you ever thought about it? The word. Have you ever just stopped and recounted how new makes you feel? Think about when you get new shoes. New pencils. A new hair color/cut. What about a new toothbrush or a new phone even? There's excitement there. The anticipation of what will be. It's that newfangled onset of something just a little bit different and what it holds for you. Last year I went on a mission. I chose a word in which to set my 2012 focus. That word was rhythm. I looked for it. I longed for it. I pushed for it. In those down dark definitives of my heart, in what I said, in how I operated, in the way that I lived and how I loved. I successfully documented my 2012 pursuit of rhythm. You can read about it here in my month-by-month breakdown. 2012 felt different to me. I felt ownership over my God given 365. Somehow the focus of what I wanted to be made my months take on a personality. Each of the 12 became a memory with marked hopes of focus & fails. Simply put, my reach for rhythm shaped me into a someone better. Honest. Hopeful. Happier. Headed somewhere.
So begins the celebration of 2013. I say celebration because I long to live like I want to. I want to live like life is a celebration of breaths. It's a gift. It's not a curse. It's opportunity not a grudge to get through. Life, on many levels sucks don't get me wrong. {Thanks, Lucifer.}. But, bottom line, I don't want my days alone in a recliner when I'm 85 and in constant search of my top set of dentures to be filled with regret that I didn't make the most of who God wanted me to be. I'm not talking about traveling the world or taking trips of grandeur. For most of us out there, that's not real. The common community we all live in is our minds. It is there where mountains can be climbed. Sights can be seen. And, life can unfold in a new direction without a dime in your pocket to spare.
My word for 2013 is {connect}. I've already begun my seek-n-find with this word and have some reporting to do for my month #1 too. I am continually amazed at the heart of His hands. God's placement in my life is right.on.the.money. It's like the more I give of myself to Him the more treasures of growth and getuponitgirl He gives to me. His empty cupped hands reach out every morning and say, "Give it. All of it. Every doubt. Every dread. Every 'I can't'. Give it over to me. Now, get out there and get your MY shine on."
Connect means to bring together. I am so thankful for my laundry list of ways that I can improve my connections. Potential is new like no other. My logo above is to remind me of His new mercies, moreover His promise. Arrows are what my mind immediately thought of when contemplating the word connect. I began playing around with the arrow image to create a reminder for me for this new year. The larger arrows pointed out are symbolic to my connections with the world. I loved that when positioning these arrows, I found they created a cross. {He rocks every.single.time.} My heart naturally needed to be the center of that cross. My heart is His as I am His child. I added the smaller arrows inward to remind me that when I choose to connect with my heart outward, I allow His joy and journey for me to fill my heart even more. For better or for worse, He is in the heart growing business.
I'm documenting my 12 month progress a little differently than last year. I mean it's only fitting that I change it up this year in honor of the gift of new that 2013 brings.
Below you will find my personal billboard for 2013:
Connect is such a balanced word to the eye. I love the double n in the dead center of the word. It makes me feel strong. The "c" and "t" on the end give off a vivacious vibe of personality & flair. Kinda like life should be. Adventurous. Flirty. Fun. But, the "e" and the "c" on the tail of this word is where my heart focuses most. That letter combo has rhythm written all over it. Holla if you hear me, God. My mind rests at those 2 letters. It is no coincidence; those are my boys' name initials. See? God does not leave out the details. {He rocks every.single.time.}
When you say it. CONNECT. It's sprawls out so that you can hear every single letter. Like a Brio train, each letter magnets up to the next to bring forth the sound. I'm gonna do that. This year. I am bringing forth the sound of every letter of my life. Each area will be heard. Some sounds may come out off key, but I am anxious to hear them nonetheless. January has already been a blast with my hunt for connections.
Each month I'm documenting in this space. I'm never on time with presentation. I aim to be, but my blood runs high octane Casey way more than Cobble in the area of punctuality. I'm working on that. Remember, this space is for honesty not perfectedy.
I will be reporting my month recap using some fun eye candy this year. Below are the following areas you will see on my monthly grade card. I'll leave you with the anticipation on what these will entail for now. In celebration of my 2nd year of pursuing a better me, I wanted to have some fun with documenting my work. Doing the deeds to be better takes just that: work. Documenting that work deserves celebration even if my month didn't grade out like I had hoped.
I'm connecting with you too. In my attempts to carry out my 2013 goal, I plan to have more polls on my blog. These are simple to answer with just the click of a button. Answers are anonymous, so you can rest easy your honesty is protected. I hope to be able to hear more from my readers with this tool. I realize commenting on blogposts is becoming more a thing of the past. By no means do I write to receive feedback. I write because I love to let out what is in. But polling is just a teensy way I can better commit to my 2013 journey to connect.
Finally, I leave you with me. My promise to be better. My hopes for a heart that turns over the crusty soil in 2013 so to cultivate better connections with the who He wants me to be.
In the the words of my husband...
"If you're waiting on me, your backing up."
Let's do this.
.mac :)
My goal for 2012 was to read one book a month. For some, that aspiration may be measured as pitiful on the meter stick of scholarly. For others, that may be a lofty stretch. Me? I didn't read a damn book all of 2012. Not one. By now, I am gathering that my regular readers know that this space is meant for honesty not perfectedy. There just ain't no sense in lying.
So. Ahem. I opted to do what any tail-between-the-legger would do. I picked my non-reading self up and moved right into 2013 with the exact same goal. I am aiming to read one book a month for the year of 2013. I want this space to be utilized not so much as a report card for accountability, but more so cheerfully as a place of celebration.
I read it. Finished it two nights ago. I decided to take the time to free write words that sprung forth in my mind as I read the book. I typed them atop the cover you see above. This book was so smooth to read. It's content was hard to have pressed into my heart, but I liked that it was there just the same. I appreciated so much the conviction of Skeeter and Aibileen. There was something that stuck with me about Celia Foote. Her naive delusional debutante-like strength made me love the connection with Minny even more. Minny. Oh.sweet.Minny.
- It made me want to write my prayers down like Aiblieen does every night.
- There are too many Hilly Holbrooks in this world.
- Mae Mobley may just be the next Skeeter.
- Secret Stories should be told more even today on topics of more love and less hate.
- The transparency and hateful selfishness of Elizabeth Leefolt is that inner follower in all of us; forsaking priority and the privilege of love only to keep up with the next trend, hot topic or social whatnot.
- Goodbyes on unfair terms are gut wrenching for the little and the big.
- Hope & courage are Aibileen and Minny.
- Our lacks leave us lousy if we let them; there's a Leroy that lives in us all.
I loved my #1 for 2012 2013. I'm glad I have given myself another go at the spine cracked side of life. I am quite certain these characters will make more of me as I peek inside them only to find myself with each turn of the page.
.mac :)
Some people freak at surprises. Like the kind of freak where they can't decide whether to be ill as a hornet or just tore-up-from-the-floor-up flabbergasted. And me? Well, I like'em. I love to give them and get them. There's something simple in giving a heartblast. That's what I call surprises. And, heartblast is the perfect description too. It's simply lining up your hands and feet with the impromptu flash of love that God settles into your heart.
I've made it a point to teach the boys the joy of heartblasting someone. They have a name for a certain kind of heartblast we love to do. It's called the hit-n-run. It doesn't take any special occasion or celebration, just the notion and the energy to act out of love. With this particular hit-n-run, it was Mom-mom's birthday.
Coming up with what the surprise should be is so fun. For this hit-n-run, we decided to amp Mom-Mom up with all her favorites yummies. Other heartblast surprises aren't always hit-n-runs. We've just showed up on people's doorsteps we have been missing for a visit, dropped off treats for a short stay and even sent goodies in the mail to someone who's on our mind.
The boys get so super stoked for hit-n-runs though. They map out the plan of attack. Who's going to be the setter-upper of the goods? Who's gonna ring the doorbell? Where should Mom park with the car running for a fast getaway?
I hope the boys remember that these acts are just exactly what makes hearts a little happier, moreover smiles a little wider in between the rough patches. I hope they remember it doesn't take lots of money. It just takes that instinctual obedience to scatter joy with a little bit of time & creativity. I hope they remember to share these heartblasts with their wives when they are grown. I hope they don't forget that flower lesson of mine too.
.mac :)
The void of this writing space in my life has been unsettling to my heart. I find myself these days on a merry-go round of my myriad of musts. Cyclical, the wind slams into my tight lipped face as I hold tighter to the rusty rails just waiting for warp speed to downshift. But, there's that overachiever girl with her feet planted firmly on the dirt playground spinning me faster and faster. As if in unison, her hands propel a force that reeks velocity confirmation on my face of survival. Then, there's the other gal. She melodiously watches with a grandeur kind of anticipation. Her energies funnel into nothing but acute concentration on this round-n-round routine. She labors to catch the rhythm of the merry. She looks at me secured there on the rusty turntable with some sort of admiration. Her eyes cast darted glances of jealousy as I am on and she is not. Brittle dirt flies into the air around us as spinner girl takes dedicated delight in increasing the rapidity of this roundabout. Faster. Faster. Faster. I hold on with all my might. I opt to overlook the churning of an upside down stomach wanting nothing more than to be obscene & ugly all over the place. Spinner girl cackles with her obsession for speed; she is mesmerized by her mission. The on-deck girl has a full tank of 'I want to' just waiting for that precise time to leap and board.
{the rhythm of the merry}
I am that girl.
All 3 to be exact.
.mac
Six years have snuck past us all. That's 2,190 days to be exact. Looking back, I recall words penned for you just four years ago ago on this day. Three years ago, too, with your tiny newborn image. You. A work of art walking. Your presence is of a proper noun sense. Specificity and tenacity mixed with an outright joy meld your stature. Captivating is your smile, moreover your touch. Your blue eyes twinkle when they meet others. Gleaming with a steady, confident connection as if your interaction with them is mandatory for your pulse of life.
You love your b. and your big brother. Staple necessities are they to your everyday. You have an infectious knack for story telling and expression. Your mind maneuvers melodiously in & out of play scripts throughout your day. Your heartstrings are easily moved when injustice or loneliness enters your arena be it through stories in books or on the screen. You sense others and how they feel. An association never to be underestimated; you have a strength in compassion.
Your Mama's lap is your softest spot. It always has been. Your Daddy meets you in that magical place where overwhelming love and outstanding battles of will collide. He is absolutely smitten over you as you are him. Smitten enough to hook horns and snuggle just the same. I would imagine his trump card will be played often throughout your life so to make more of the man you will become. Mama's too as you lack not in determination. Training up greatness is a job neither of us take lightly.
{January 21, 2007-the day before you were born}
For lightly is not the way to live. Casey McGill, you will be a man of courage and of conviction. You will live your life out loud and on center stage. Your humility will be there in the honest twinkle in your eyes and the commitment to reach out to others. Your tenacious spirit will infect so many that cross your path. God has a plan to spread His love and glory through your smile and your actions. Sweet son, hold to Him and be His vessel. You are learning more and more of His place in your life. The wheels of conviction are turning in your soul. Beaming with an anticipation and hope, your Dad and I watch on as we see the excitement in you light up each night before our family devotion time.
Today we celebrate you. We celebrate the gift of life that we take not for granted. We are thankful for the passion and joy you give to the lives around you. Thank you for sharing it with us. Your place in this world has a brilliant purpose. Rock this new year of life out, Casey Face!
Love you,
Mama :)
I wore these shoes on New Year's Eve. They were a BOGO indulge I gave to myself back in October. Remember, these shoes? Well, they were my "BO" and the above were my "GO". I love how substantial yet dainty they are with their ballet pink palette and tiny textured swiss dots. With them on, I am about 6'1". These pumps are comfy and sassy. And, from my New Year's Eve test drive, they seem to be great dancers too. I felt beautiful wearing these.
The above were my Christmas gift from Kenny. These are my 3rd pair of this exact running shoe. I heart them big time. I run about 15 miles a week in these babies. To be honest, it takes everything in me not to wear them all the time because they are that comfortable. These kicks are like my house shoes. My slippers. My sappy shoes as Kenny's Mamaw would say. And, you know what? I feel just as beautiful wearing these as I did wearing the above dainties. There is strength inside a lady. Strength to suck it up, carry on, make it happen and smile through on those days that suck. Women have a wonderful sense of making things seamless in a world full of stitches. There is strength inside us so magnificent that it can't help but radiate the beauty of you.
{in peep toe pumps or kick ass running shoes}
God gave you beauty.
It's your job to go out and let the world see Him shine.
.mac :)
Homeschooling lends itself to such rich learning. It's the kind of learning that I can get lost in. The kind where time lines are chucked in the trash and concepts like quality & content are just the best river stones you want to rub over and over in your hands. In the fall, the boys and I learned about community. We read books about parts of a community, discovered different types of communities and examined more of how a community is made based on location and job opportunities. As an educator, I have always struggled with pigeon holing learning and memorizing facts. As in, I have a hard time making them narrow cities and communities into areas considered rural, suburban and urban. Perhaps it's because I, myself, am unsure of just what constitutes a suburban town. We live in a town just 30 minutes from a big city in Tennessee, and our town is anything but suburban. Our town is rural with a capital "R".
And, I guess, what I want the boys to gather most from my time as their teacher is knowledge not facts. I want them to have a devout curiosity for learning and observing. I know that facts are important, moreover, that they are a necessary part of making life easier. We are on that too. Fact families are drilled. Reciprocal processes are enforced. Time tables are tested. But, before all of that, I gotta know that they know the process and the why behind it. Teaching Eli his multiplication tables in 1st grade was so much easier to facilitate as he was the one who observed that addition could be grouped and counted. Once he had this discovery, it was simply the best next step to show him grouping and multiplication. I cared not that he was 6 or in 1st grade. He was ready because it made sense to him to learn a better way. This is the joy of learning; this is the reason I love being their Mrs. Cobble.
For our community project, the boys and I decided to define our community. We simply talked this out on our daily routines and routes that we drive. What made their space theirs? Eli was the first to state that cardinal directions were important for knowing where things were located. Yeah, Casey and I could care less about which way was up. So, cardinal directions were included for E-man. Casey wanted the places we visit and use as a part of the project. Particularly, the eating establishments we frequent. The boy is sure to be in the entertainment/social job field, I have no doubt. They both wanted to have the elapsed time included to places they love to go nearby {Mom-Mom & Larro's house, Nana & Papaw's house, and Knoxville's sun sphere.} We don't visit the sun sphere often, but they love to locate it when we are traveling west to see family in my hometown. Plus, they love knowing that on our return home, there's just 32 minutes to our front door once they spot that sparkly copper ball in the sky.
They work brilliantly together on these collaborative projects. The boys are so astutely aware of the other's strengths. The same holds true for when they tackled this art piece. Like bookends, they see a project through with nothing more than guidance, supply lugging and a few re-directions from me in between.
The boys made a list of the roads most traveled in their community, places that were necessary to their community {our bank, our church, police department, our grocery, our local hospital, the trash dump, nearby schools, etc.} It was important to Casey that the community center shaped like an octagon was included as that's where he attends gymnastics.
Eli wanted the rail road documented. We, by no means, live as close to the tracks as we used in our old home, but for Eli, either be it for nostalgia's sake or for the sake of proper documentation, the railroad was included. As were the barns. The boys have it on full authority that from our house to the turn off to Mom-Mom & Larro's, there are 69 barns. We counted, remember? Smoky Mountains were in there too, in addition to the surrounding counties and their names.
They drew with pencil and then used multi-mediums for final construction. Acrylic paints, oil pastels, colored pencils and crayons did the job just right. For further depth & detail, they went through magazines and cut out cool words/images that had meaning to our community. Casey found a patriot in one magazine and could hardly wait to paste it on Daddy's football field they drew behind the high school.
Next, it was time to label. The boys gave me their list with which I typed & printed only to give back to them. They took turns typing each piece of their community on the computer.
Efficient Eli had the brilliant idea to highlight each word to signify its completion. Where does he get this?
I was most impressed with both boys' ability to type. Initially, I thought they would tire of this mundane process, and that I would be the one to finish the job. Nope. With efficiency, these 2 knocked out their list completely on their own.
Ahh, cutting and gluing. So not my strong suit. I would like to blame that on having right-handed scissors for the first 3 years of my left-handed education. I find it funny that much of my profession as a designer is cutting. E & C plowed through the snips chatting the entire time.
I really was quite concerned the gluing process would end in torn typed pieces to which would lead to major melt downs and disgruntled-ness. Wrong again. These 2 had about 40 labels to adhere to their canvas. Only one was torn. Wow.
The water/Mod Podge glue solution was like magic potion to them. The delight they took in using angled sponges attached to sticks was such a treat to watch. Casey got all over-gluey as he was "Bob Ross'n" with his play-play verbal description of what he was doing each step of the way. Eli, the dictator, was quick to snap him back into proficiency in the world of adhering.
I mentioned in my end-of-the-month November review post that I had big plans for their community finished project. I framed their masterpiece and placed it in our kitchen in between the Dan Gibson painting I purchased from a local craft festival I attended this fall and the self portrait art pieces the boys did of themselves when they were just 5 and 3. I have enough space to the left of their portraits for a narrow piece of art. I would like it to be a piece Kenny & I create together. My mind isn't concrete just yet on what that piece will be, but I look forward to watching the beauty of our piece unfold when just the right idea hits.
I adore their finished product. I love it even more that it helps to define the composition of our home. I look at it everyday with pride as this piece is yet another symbol of the boys together and immersed in creating and collecting knowledge under their roof of home. Together. Immersed in collecting and sharing knowledge to create good in your space. Sounds like the perfect community to me.
.mac :)
I love God's little signs for me. Not putting words into His mouth, but it's like He's saying, "I feel you, dawg." It's that place of ugly & uncertain we all battle from time to time. I'm there. Squatting down with my M-16 and monochromatic army green fatigues loaded and ready to pop a round off at the devil masqued in the full-on form of insecurity and second guessing.
Only this battle is more gruesome than the last. It's more intense; it's more painful. The slithery serpent twists his powerful molted body around mine only to suffocate me in a truer sense. Real & heavy. Compacted with pressure, I continue on. But, my gun is so heavy to carry. Not to mention, the green monochromatic look only depresses me more. I sink inside myself only to dig a deeper trench for protection.
God says, "I'm here." I look around. "Yeah, I know you are." I murmur. But, my mind is more intent on grieving the sickness I am saturated in. The sickness of self doubt. With all of my gut, I dig my heels deep into the dark dirt as if my firm stance will intimidate the enemy to flee from my being. He squeezes tighter. Around my chest. In my diaphragm. Slithering around to the core of my back. I stretch and breath quick short breaths in panic to keep my life sustained.
Satan takes hold of just whoever he can. His military background is highly decorated and precisely keen in tactic. He cares not of what you have or what you don't. Of your social status. Your income. Your church affiliation. Your gender or your genes. He seeks you. Knows just when to strike. And, above all, knows your battle plan too.
"I feel you, dawg. I'm here."
Consumed by the heartache and sickly shallow breaths, my muscles are tautly tense with an index finger steady on the trigger. Tears streamline violently down my face as I squint through my scope to find my target of me. Of me. My battleground is creeping; closer & confined my boundaries are becoming more realized. Unclear and clouded, I internally scream for no more. Not one more single second. I pick up rocks to throw and sling half handfuls of dry clay at my insides in a desperate attempt to make it all go away.
He cares not of your blessings or your barren.
He takes hold of whoever he can.
The trigger's tug is intense in my hand. I anticipate the kickback of the pain intended for defense's sake. I pull and release. Knowing all too well, the damage has already been done. Nothing. Not a single bullet sends out my rage. My gun is not loaded.
"I feel you, dawg. I'm here. I'm right beside you. I'm wearing white."
And, just like that, His gun dismisses umpteen million rounds. They're grace loaded and full of certainty. Not a single miss. Plowed down is my anguish and my doubt. Dead in the water, my inadequacies perish. Toppled one atop the other on a bloody battleground of me. Of me.
Right beside me wearing white.
My prayers unload the remaining rounds for His glory. In a mucky mess of battle, I cry obtuse tears of freedom for the plans He has for me. For me. And, my gun drops as my heart spills out all of me. "I feel you, dawg" He repeats over and again. "I'm here." With rich conviction, I feel my pain ease. Physically, it releases. A husband, off to the far right, in the same army green fatigues I wear, holds me all through the night and again the next day. His gun is empty as well. But, he helps to refill the rounds of the soldier in white beside us. As do best friends decked in that same monochromatic attire with words and reminders.
He cares not of your blessings or your barren.
He takes hold of whoever he can.
I'm thankful for an empty gun and a troop of army green fatigues beside me. For the highly skilled marksman known as the soldier in white who has me. And, for the beautiful power He has in triumphing over evil with just the same exact mindset. He cares not of what you have or what you don't. Of your social status. Your income. Your church affiliation. Your gender or your genes. He seeks you. For goodness and for gain and for growth. For life eternal.
I love God's little signs for me.
I feel you too, dawg. And I am so thankful that I can.
With all my love & gratitude,
Meghan Alicia
There's just something awesome about new. It's fresh and clear. There is no baggage. No cobwebs of I sucked or hints of that hurt. There's glory in beginnings. Grace too. 2012 was the year of rhythm for me. Finding it. Keeping it. Chasing it. Not to mention cussing it a time or two. I pushed for more of me, the real me. The best me. There were moments of great success and ones that graded out blood red with flop & failure. But, without a doubt, I'm glad I devoted myself to moving in the upward sense.
2012 was my 365 to document, moreover, devote. One of my favorite rituals I began last year was {my 2 in 52}. It was simply a joy to write about my boys on a weekly basis. With just my commitment to honoring their place in our family's life, I was able to write about them 34 out of the 52 weeks. For this, I am most proud. Their childhood is fast paced and rapidly my mind reminds itself that these moments are just too precious not to capture. For the boys, for me and for Kenny. I am quite certain I won't regret the time spent procuring these memories for us all. So begins year 2013 for our record books.
Snow. We took mid-morning of the 1st day in 2013 to play in it. We were in Lexington, KY for our annual New Year's Eve stay at The Stump Home. Kenny was with his guys, and the boys and I headed out for a little winter adventure. I love the fact that the boys chose to play football in the snow with no football. Pretending is so freakin' awesome. LOVE that they do this, and do this well.
Casey McGill wanted to sled. Alas, no sled was handy. What did he do? Body sled. That's right. This boy is tenaciously driven. I watched with a smile so big on my face as he body sled time and again.
I mean just look at that face. Do you see any ounce of fear? Notta. No wonder he has suffered injuries like this at such an early age.
Eli Garrett, the ever cautious, lacks not in tenacity either. His is more of the planned sort. Mesmerized, methodical and curious. Staring for long looks at moss and how fences are put together. His tackling skills are dead.on.the.money in ghost football like you see being played above.
Climbed the top of a fallen tree and wanted documentation he did it. His smile says it all, don't you think? ::pride::
Snow angels were in order. Eli was exact in his process so to be sure not to mutate his angel's form.
I was surprised to see Casey follow his big brother's example. He usually is my spontaneous soul. Yet, he listened intently and adhered to Eli's advice in creating his own icy cherub construction.
I can't quite call them angels as they are mine. Kenny's too. And, if you know us, you know good & well we have a little devil in us from time to time. Lucifer in the sweetest sense, mind you. But, our little men are definitely heaven sent. Full of life and lots of love among other things. One of my goals for 2013 is to be outside with them everyday. There is good in fresh air. There is good in new. I look forward to yet another year of honoring Eli and Casey in this space. May I capture the glory of their childhood and the grace in their growing too.
{week 52: my 2 in 52}
.mac :)
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