Wasn't sure I was gonna come home... but....

My weekend, in pictures.  

Words about it to come in a later blog post... for now, just the sights- not the people.

And then... I came home.  And saw this little sight.  

And remembered why it's home now.

Haven't found the words yet... but they will come.

Dear Elizabeth, This is why I love your Dad.

Dear Elizabeth,

Today I read yet another poignant devotion by Jen Hatmaker.  (I know, I know... by the time you'll be reading this, I'm sure Jen will have decided to move to Winston-Salem to be one of my Besties... or, quite possibly, I'll be in some women's prison after violating a restraining order she placed against me.  I'm kind of obsessed with her.  Missed the link yesterday to her latest book?  Here is is again.)

Today, sweet girl, she gently reminded me how important it is to tell you how much I love your daddy.  Truthfully, I likely would have been better served to read that yesterday, but I digress.  Today it reminded me that a house divided will not stand... so let me tell you why we are a house united.

Your daddy and I started flirting around Halloween 1999.  The beginning of November (yep, like whole-days later) I ended up in the hospital due to an asthma attack... and your daddy, the med student, came and asked me out.  Your Mimi was thrilled he asked me out- not that she'd met him or anything- but because he was a med student.  (I think she was ready to be done with footing my bill and saw dollar signs in her daughter's future... at the time she didn't realize he was called to a psychiatrist to people who can't always pay for his services.)

I'm gonna be honest- while I was thrilled at the possibility of a date with a fun boy I'd been flirting with, I was a little hesitant:

• He was wearing a fugly (don't use that word, E) red sweater at the time he asked me out.
• He went to Duke.  (seriously.  ugh.)
• He was way shorter than the guys I'd dated before who were much more "my type".

But I went... and then here is where things got even funnier:

• He came to pick me up in his mini-van.  (yep.)
• I offered to pay for dinner... and he freakin' let me.  (yep.)
• He spent most of dinner telling me about some "rich" friends of his family and how smart he was (see above: Duke... ugh.)

Not much reason for Date #2?  Given those facts... you're right.  But while we were at the theater (score one for your Dad!  Not the movie theater, but the North Carolina Theater where saw "The Music Man"!) we sat behind a mom and her little girl- who actually happened to be about the age you are now.  Your daddy turned to me and said "I can't wait to have kids one day.  Do you want to have kids?"  At the time it seemed perfectly natural that he'd mention this.  But it was on a first date.  Seriously.  Guys don't do that... usually until way later.  Looking back at this I realize how this was the hand of God in our relationship... He tempered all of the things your Daddy did that were "odd" to me by giving this small insight into your Daddy's heart.

What I saw was this: A guy who was not afraid of looking like he's anticipating a family, even when it's not so cool to admit things like that... especially on a first date. And I chose to get to know that guy a little better... then I discovered these things:

• Someone who loves to explore new places... which is why our road trips take extra long.
• Someone who makes me laugh at ridiculous things... which is why Funniest Home Videos is not automatically turned off now- it's worth it to watch your Daddy laugh.
• Someone who knows lots of things about lots of things (and maybe even thinks he knows more than he really does sometimes, but we'll keep that our little secret.)
• Someone who is an amazing cook.
• Someone who wants to share all we have with people who need it.
• Someone who doesn't care about being in a part of medicine that is not as well respected as others... because he knows this is how he can impact the lives of his patients by living out what he, specifically, is called to do.
• Someone who randomly quotes grammar "rules" when I misuse grammar... and now I quote the same rules, too.  (Condition to contrary fact requires future tense.)
• Someone who understands that even though I'm a huge extrovert, my introvert side needs to recharge by being alone... and gladly uses those times to be with you and teach you new things.
• Someone who understands that I'm a huge extrovert, and gladly uses time when I'm off being social to be with you and teach you new things.
• Someone who understands that I need to be with him (without you!) and gladly pays for babysitters.
• Someone who takes my job as a stay-at-home mom seriously, and sends me thank you notes occasionally to remind me just how important it is.
• Someone who "gets" Glee.
• Someone who has gone to numerous Barenaked Ladies and James Taylor concerts because he appreciates my love of them... and who gladly opted out of Jay-Z for the same reason.
• Someone who was willing to send me off to Washington, DC with one of my besties even though he was dying to be there, too, because he knew it was important for me to have that chance.

And most importantly:

 

• Someone who loves God most, and you and me next.  We've been trying to teach you this truth lately, Miss E, and your Daddy does a good job of showing you.  He has admitted to you how hard it is to say he loves God more than us, but he's working on it each day.  And because of that example, we can work on it, too.  He loves you so much... and that makes me love him more because of it.

I'm thankful I stuck it out with that guy who drove a mini-van, who made me pay for our first meal together, who talked a lot about himself at dinner, and who showed me that he values family.  Even today when he makes me stop what I'm doing about 400 times to help him find a DVD or the keys that he's misplaced... I'd do it all again.  He makes me crazy sometimes, but I'm crazy about him, so it all balances out in the end.  And even though lately you keep calling him "your" prince... he's actually mine.  But I'll let you share him until God shows you who yours is... be ready to find one that might not look like your "type"... because His type is far better.

I am a freakin' hypocrite. (Volume One)

This summer was full.  VERY full.  BLOCK Party, camps, Camp of Kids, vacations, etc... usually, we have lots to do in the summer, but at some point my brain can shut down.  Unfortunately, that was not this summer.  My brain won't stop spinning these days.  I'm learning a lot about me and about other people... and the biggest thing I wrestled with this summer is this:

I am a freakin' hypocrite.

Seriously.

I am one of those.

I'm not the typical "Christian" variety you may be thinking of:  I'm not the gal who preaches one thing and practices another in regards to those big-ticket items that we Christians love to harp on.  I'm all for drinkin' and dancin' (and have found that while they go together often in my life, both have to be done in moderation... for the benefit of all around).  I'm not going to tell you how Jesus hates it when you curse then turn around and drop the F-bomb... I'm straight up in telling you that I love Jesus and I'm certain I make him cringe with some of the things I say.  Me and Jesus?  We're tight.  And I want to live authentically because of that.

No, I'm not the stereotypical hypocrite... I'm the more subtle variety.  (And this may be the only thing in my life I'm subtle about.)  Let me see if I can work this out...

Q: Do I want you to ignore the things in my past that are less than flattering?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I tend to keep score about the things in my past that you did to me that are less than flattering?
A: You betcha.

Q: Do I want you to help me process through things with sweet Dan when he says or does things that are jerky then immediately move past them?
A: Yep.
Q: Will I remember jerky things that your significant other said to you and store them in my "Why he/she doesn't love you well enough" File?
A: Fo' sho'.

Q: Do I expect you to give me freedom to live as God is calling me to live, even if it doesn't look like your way?
A: Completely.
Q: Will I look at your way and often make assumptions that it's not as "good" as mine?
A: Umm... maybe...

Q: Do I want you to give me large sums of money?
A: Uh-huh.
(That was just to see if you are paying attention.)

Now don't hear me wrong... I don't file away every single thing that you or others do and say and keep score about how to use those later.  I don't have the time, energy, or brain power left to do all of that.  But several times recently I've been made aware that I am asking one thing of my friends (forgiveness of them or others) and yet I've not been practicing it in my life.  I am excited and passionate about what I'm learning and want others to catch that same vision... yet I've realized that when they don't want to catch it, see it, hear it... I, well, um, maybe just a little... judge them.

That whole "Love keeps no record of wrongs" junk?  Puh-lease.

I'm working on it, people.  I hope you are too... when I get to the point that I'm free of judgement, I want to be surrounded by people who are free from that, too.  Just this morning I was reading one of Jen Hatmaker's books (which you ALL should read... seriously, she's hysterical and dead-on) Out of the Spin Cycle: Devotions to Lighten your Motherload.  She talked about just this point- and said that we have to accept our own junk.  We can be stripped down to the barest of who we are and it's cool... because we are accepting our sin and moving beyond that.  We won't be defined by who we were in the past or what we've done.

I'm willing to stand in that... you?

Confessions of a Night Manager, Volume Two

I had a meeting at our house a couple of weeks ago and someone noticed my old nametag from the RMH on my refrigerator.  She turned to me and said "Now I see why you're so organized!  You used to be the Night Manager at the RMH!"

Hmm.

Uh...

Yeah.  Except for not.

Sometimes I feel like I am bi-polar when when it comes to being organized, on-the-ball, whatever.  And this is why:

1. Three times in the last 6 weeks I've forgotten to take meals to people that I was signed up to deliver.  And I got email reminders about all 3 of them.  Uh-huh.  (I could give my reasons I've forgotten them, but that doesn't matter.  3 families expected me to bring them food... and I failed.)

2. My guest bedroom is full to overflowing with clothes... clean clothes (mostly)... which have been washed, dried, and folded- but not put up.  Company comes, so we scurry to do something with them, so they get piled in the guest bedroom... some to have to be re-ironed later.

3. I just finished TONIGHT my thank you notes from people caring for me after my surgery.  Which was over 5 months ago.  (Don't tell my mom.  I was raised better than this, people.)

4. I just remembered to mail someone a payment for something they sent me 6 weeks ago.

5. I have things in our stairway going down to the garage that have needed to be put "in place" for weeks... but the problem is the place to put them is still so cluttered, there's no room.

It's a vicious cycle.

Yet I WANT to be organized.  I WANT to be on-the-ball... and not even to impress people with my on-the-ballness, but for my own sanity.  I am involved in a lot of different things- when I'm not on top of my to-do lists and my calendar, I fear that I will forget a big commitment- even bigger than providing meals- and something important will suffer.  Ugh.

But tonight, as I was beating myself up for being so delinquent in writing thank you notes, I realized that there was something beautiful I could teach my daughter in all of this.  Instead of having to teach her, she showed me that she already gets it:

Mid-way through her seeing me writing thank you notes, she asked if she could write one.  She wrote it to our friend Savannah, for a toy Savannah gave E last year for her birthday.  We'd already written the "official" thank you note after getting the gift (a lot late, probably)... but E was inspired to write another one today.  Because today she was playing with it- and was reminded how much she loved it- and that made it important for her to write the note.

Well, she got inspired, and continued to write notes.

This one was for our babysitter, Miss Anna.  E was thinking of things she was thankful for and wanted Anna to know she was thankful for her... and her letting E play with playdough.  (She ended the note with "I hope we can be together again soon.)

When we got to church later, E's friend Becca came to sit with us.  E decided then to tell Becca how much she loved her.  Becca reciprocated by telling E "I am your best friend."  (Gosh, I love little girls.)  (Becca also said, when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday "I want Elizabeth to come to my party."  Now THAT is a sweet girl.  E would surely have asked for Mermaid Dora.)

What I love about my girl is that she gets how important it is to say thank you... she gets that it's important to say "I love you".  And because she doesn't have the unfortunate self-imposed guidelines that I do, she doesn't care if her thank you notes are prompt or just later when she realizes just how great the gift is.

I think that a thank you like that is far more genuine.

So those of you who haven't gotten a thank you from me yet?  For surgery or whatever?  Know that I'm thankful.  Because I am.  And I may remember a year from now when I'm thinking about your yummy salad dressing.  (I'm talking to you, ML.)  Or your tasty chocolate cherry cake (Yep, HM.)  Or that you were willing to, once again, hang out with my kid (thanks, MH, and JF, and MM, and....)  I am thankful.  Whether or not I told you in a way that would make Emily Post or my Momma proud is one thing... but what I taught my daughter about gratitude is another.

One day I want to be organized enough that when people hear I used to work at the RMH, it's a logical correlation.  But I didn't work there because I was super-organized or on-the-ball (sorry, RMH Board... the cat is out of the bag now!).... I worked there because I have a big heart and want to love people- even if it doesn't look  like it's "supposed" to.

Confessions of a Night Manager, Volume One

For those of you who may not have known us back in the day... we lived from June 2003-January 2007 at the Ronald McDonald House of Winston-Salem.  I'll admit, when my friend Laura emailed me the job posting for Night Manager, I wasn't so sure.  True: we needed a place to be where we were serving.  True: we needed a place to be where we could get in better financial shape.  But with the exception of what my friend Amelia had told me while we played Bunko, I knew very little about the RMH.  And now I would give up an adorable house in Ardmore to LIVE there?  Seriously?  But something checked in my spirit, so I sent in an application, went for some interviews, and got the job.  Night Manager.  At the RMH.  What the junk.

What that meant was this: Dan and I moved into the apartment downstairs at the RMH to serve as kind of the RA's of the house.  I worked in the office Sunday-Thursday from 5:30-8:00pm doing office stuff, then from 8:00pm-8:00am we were "on call" in case of emergency.  "Emergency" meant everything from evacuating the house when the fire alarm went off (and wouldn't stop going off for 2 hours) with a house full of guests- half of those not speaking English.  It meant answering our door 5 days after Elizabeth was born to find a family in crisis who needed us as much as my newborn did.  It meant answering the door at 2 in the morning when the Coke Machine took someone's money and didn't give them a Coke... yep, and that was when the sign went up on the door saying "Stop!  Only knock if this is a real emergency."  Each night I made sure the house was properly shut down for the evening, and did rounds as were necessary.

What it also meant was 3 and a half years of loving people when they were most vulnerable.  Teenage girls who had just become moms... and moms of preemies at that.  Parents whose son had just had his leg amputated... and continued to come back for check-ups and who wanted to talk basketball with Dan.  Talking to a mom one night (during the MTV VMAs, actually) who was sobbing asking why God would make some little ones suffer.  Seeing a mom with a 4 day old baby collapse when she got deemed a "cancer family"... her 3 year old was diagnosed with leukemia at noon the day her brand-new baby was born.  And the cool thing?  That newborn baby was the only one who was a perfect bone marrow match to be a donor for his older brother.  We also got to play Santa Claus for families on Christmas Eve... we got to have a picture taken with Ronald and tell him we were pregnant (sadly, that ended up being one of our miscarriages) and have him tell us "congrats on the Little McNugget!"... we had story after story of amazing moments.  Hard ones, sad ones, amazing ones.

And today, I got to go back.  Granted, I've been back multiple times over the last 4 years.  But today was different- today I got a sneak preview of the new house.  When we lived there, the house served 17 families.  Now, it will be able to house 35.  Seriously.  What the junk.  The house is spectacular.  It's beautiful.  It's perfectly decorated.  I teared up the entire time I was given the tour.

But the nuances I saw were ones that made me thrilled... not as a general "visitor" of the house... but as the old Night Manager.

A trash and recycling island... complete with "normal" sized bags that are actually functional to take out.  The old bins were so large that as they got full it was too cumbersome to take out.

Lockers for the families to put their grocery items in... so no one can accuse another of stealing their Mountain Dew.  Not that that ever happened... but if it did... I'm just sayin'....

A beautiful spot for Volunteers to come and get their nametags and leave their things... 

not having to do this in Abby's office like they used to....

Oh, sweet magical work room.  Complete with shelving, security monitors, and copier.  

Not to be confused with the old copier CLOSET which barely held, well, the copier.

A COT CLOSET.  Seriously.  Beautiful.  Rather than trying to remember which room had the extra cots... and having to enter those rooms to find them... 

Storage.  Beautiful storage.

AN ICE MACHINE.  (I'm misty-eyed just looking at it.)

While this might look like Chacy's office... it's not.  It's now Chacy's counseling area... 

SEPARATE from her office.  Seriously... it's the little things.

A comfy chair... and new breastpump.  In the LACTATION ROOM... no longer the "breastpump room".

Unreal.  The house seems to be ready to go... perfectly situated for all the families that will benefit from it.  And do the above touches make it NECESSARY to care for families who have children in the hospital?  Maybe, maybe not.  What they do allow is for the staff to function easier, to not trip over each other, and to provide the touches that make staying at the RMH so special... so different from a hotel.

Can't get the picture of what the house looks like from my random finds?  Well, I'll show you some of the other treats...

Gorgeous bedrooms.  Seriously, gorgeous.  

(And all of us commented that our rooms at home never quite look so put together.)

Beautiful common spaces.

(This room is where we watched the ball drop on New Years Eve, 2006... just before we moved out. 

 It looks a lot prettier now... and it was pretty then!)

And on a personal note...

I got sucked in to reading the name plates on the doors.  So many of them were given in honor of donors who have huge hearts for the RMH.  So many were names of people I never met, but knew their kindness toward the House through the years.  Some from from families I met... and this one was a family I sat with just moments after their precious son lost his battle to cancer.

These are glimpses of why I will always love the RMH.  We left when Elizabeth needed me as her Night Manager a little more urgently than I was able to provide both for her and the families of the RMH.  Now as she gets older, I want her to be involved with the House where she was born.  I want her to see what it's like to get to touch families who need a little more love during tough times.  And I want her to know some of the people who I love so much.

It truly is The House That Love Built.

(some of my fellow staff members from Back In The Day... I'll be celebrating with them and the rest of the staff at the Ribbon Cutting and Open House Sunday, Sept 12, 3-5pm.  419 S. Hawthorne Road.)

Mary Poppins

This is what happens when you watch Mary Poppins before bed:

I'm bracing myself for what she'll try after Peter Pan.

Conversation with my 3.5 year old...

(hugging each other...)

me: E, there's gonna be a day that you aren't going to live with me anymore.  Won't that be sad?

E: That's okay, Mommy.  Because I'll have a child.  And I'll be married.  And have a baby.  And you can come see me.  If you're still alive.

ouch.