Heart

31 Days of Creating White Space

Sep302013

White space.

In design. On a page. In my calendar. In my home. In my day. In my heart.

I need more of it. I’m going to be looking for it, and creating it.

This past year has been a complete whirlwind. Almost everything changed for us and while we’ve been doing okay, I have been consuming. And scheduling. And filling all the space.

The next thirty-one days I’ll be exploring this idea and writing about the process. There will be tears. There will be laughs. And there will be change.

But my goal is to free up the space for relationship and community. To stop consuming and to start believing with my whole heart that my identity is found in Christ alone.

I’m linking up with The Nester this month for 31 Days of Creating White Space.

This is a big challenge for me (creating white space and committing to write on one topic for 31 days), and I’ll be back tomorrow to share the story about God laying this on my heart.

This topic will definitely be faith-based, but I’m going to put it in the Simplicity & Organization category.

This post will serve as the landing page for all the posts in the series. I’ll list them all here each day when I update.

Will you join me in this challenge?

Day One: Why White Space?

Day Two: My Need for White Space

Day Three: fear & striving

Day Four: Who stole my white space?

Day Five: White space & the weekend

Day Six: white space = rest

Day Seven: the wardrobe & white space

Day Eight: goals to create white space

Day Nine: your home is your story

Day Ten: #onebigtruth

Day Eleven: planning an organized home

Day Twelve: white space & the weekend (2)

Day Thirteen: resting in what was good this week

Day Fourteen: but what if it’s good stuff?

Day Fifteen: the great toy purge: white space for the kids

Day Sixteen: the great toy purge part II (what happened to the toys)

Day Seventeen: life happens in the white space

Day Eighteen: the white screen of rest

Day Nineteen: stop. and breathe.

Day Twenty: white space = rest

Day Twenty-One: I’m Dreaming of a White (Space) Christmas

Day Twenty-Two: white (space) Christmas & gifts

Day Twenty-Three: white (space) Christmas: removing the excess in your schedule

Day Twenty-Four: simple thoughts & simple spaces by Paige Knudsen

Day Twenty-Five: white space isn’t the answer

Day Twenty-Six: running

Day Twenty-Seven: day 27 reflections

Day Twenty-Eight: sometimes He gives us a cross

Day Twenty-Nine: margin and the mama’s heart

Day Thirty: the truth about white space

Day Thirty-One: we created white space

the standard of beauty

Filed Under: boy mom, Faith, Uncategorized

Sep232013

Strength and dignity are her clothing, And she smiles at the future.

Proverbs 31:25

These boys of mine? They don’t know the words that I know. The ones that swarm around in my head. The ones I’ve battled since I was in the third grade and was first aware of body image.

Words like fat.

And ugly.

And flabby.

And frizzy.

Chubby and awkward and any other word that we’ve all told ourselves at some point in our lives.

And it’s likely that some guy said it to us along the way, too.

I am so lucky to be married to a man who praises me and calls me beautiful. He loves what’s on the outside, and he especially loves what’s on the inside. (Though there is plenty to not love on the inside.)

And while my darling husband has a responsibility to teach my boys how to talk to girls and how to talk about girls, I set the example.

By loving myself, and refraining from putting myself down in front of them, I am saving them from the idea that women are to be critiqued and judged and picked apart.

The truth is, I do pick myself apart. I do want to lose the last bit of baby weight and get back into my old clothes. I want to feel like the version of me that I can’t forget. The physical pre-baby version. And maybe I’ll work hard enough to do that for myself.

But that’s my issue. I never want to give my boys permission to do that. By loving myself right where I am, and allowing my husband to love me right where I am without making excuses about my post-baby body, or two-day hair, I am showing Hudson and Hayes to look deeper. To love people for more than what they see on the outside.

That just because their friends think it’s fun to compare and critique women, it’s okay if they don’t play along.

I want them to see a mom who works hard, who is comfortable with herself, and most importantly, let the smile on my face and the joy in my life define the way people see me on the outside. The presence of Jesus Christ in my heart and in my life and in my actions.

Moms, how are you talking to your boys and girls about beauty? What are you showing them?

*This post was originally published on CourtneyDefeo.com

the nest

Filed Under: Faith

Sep42013

When we left our house back in November, there was a piece of me that got left behind with it. I’m a nester. Making a home, feeling at home, is my thing.

I am passionate about home. Not a particular home, but having a home. The feeling of home.

We could dissect this all a little bit, and could probably take it all back to the fact that I moved around a fair amount as a kid, and now, as an adult I want stability and home. Roots.

In November, we left the place that I’d called home for more than five years. And the place where I first bathed my babies and swaddled them, and tucked them into their bed. It was the place where no matter how lightly you tip-toed in the middle of the night, the creaks in the old floor boards still told stories of the memories held in the house.

But someone else moved in, and we had the amazing gift of moving in with family. Believe me when I say that I do know how much of a gift that is.

And yet, for months, my heart wrestled with the lack of roots. And feeling like I’d fallen from my nest. And then we experienced a tragedy and, again, I wondered what was happening in this whole situation.

Once we made up our minds about where we would settle down, things did start getting easier. We could see the light at the end of the tunnel. But some big things happened to me this summer.

We had a relatively low key summer. But that was the beauty in it. There were vacations, and VBS, and swimming lessons and all the fun things that a summer holds.

But I had this amazing gift of enjoying my family. I have two beautiful, funny, relatively self-sufficient children who are fun to be with. And we had a whole lot of fun.

Everyone was old enough to participate in whatever we did. And I just enjoyed the fun. I napped with Hudson, and read just one more book to Hayes every night.

I was present. I took time away from social media. We visited my parents. We got down on the floor and played. We went swimming. We built forts with blankets, and I had the blessed experience of watching my boys become the best of friends.

There were no big life moments this summer. There won’t be anything that makes the summer of 2013 stand out in our memories. No anniversaries or birthdays to celebrate. But it was fun. And I pray that it was fun for these guys, too. Because it was about the four of us.

Hudson and Hayes will soon be old enough to complain every day about being ready for school, and I’ll be ready for that, too. And there were, of course, the moments this summer where the days got a little too long and we couldn’t wait for Todd to walk in the door at 6:30.

And as we move into fall, and approach our move-in date, it is painfully obvious. That need to nest that I was missing is an earthly thing. Because I can, and I have been, pouring love into my boys every day through this whole experience. Sharing Jesus with them and showing them every single day how important it is to praise God in all circumstances.

I will nest again. But my home is where my family is. They are my nest. They’ve always been here. And my Father has never left me.

No paint swatch, bookshelf, piece of tile, or closet organization plan can separate me from His love. I am His, and He has been working on my heart for the past few months, and I’ve been more than willing to lean into Him.

*All photos taken by Sarah Lyn Photography

an unexpected, beautiful tribe

Filed Under: Faith

Aug52013

Today’s post was written by my dear friend, Ellen. Ellen blogs at Sweetwater and her words and heart flow so beautifully and effortlessly together in her writing. When Ellen speaks (yes, she’s now a speaker, too!) and writes and prays with you, I see the Lord in her. I hear the Lord in her words. He has done a beautiful work in Ellen’s heart and she shares it. I had the incredible privilege of coming together every Tuesday night this summer with a group of women at Ellen’s house to study the Word. Ellen tells that story beautifully in today’s post.

(And if you were considering going to Influence, but you’re on the fence about it, please go. Ellen will be there as a community leader with many other fabulous community leaders who will be there to encourage you. And hug you!)

On a Tuesday night in early June I welcomed twelve women into my home to read, study the Word and fellowship. It was a beautiful night. We laughed and cried and my heart felt like it might explode right there. It was a far cry from the defeat I’d been feeling just a few months earlier as I sat in the pew on a Sunday morning.

I’m the introverted type. My list of friends is short but deep and, even though I’m 30something now, I still struggle with insecurity about that. I have the most lovely and wonderful friends. Sometimes I forget to remember that. I have a little hamster wheel in my brain just for friendship insecurities: I don’t have enough; I’m not good at them; I try too hard; I don’t have a group.

Instead of having a group that I do absolutely everything with, I have friendships scattered throughout my little life. It’s a bit of story woven through, how I have remnants of college and being newly married and a new mama and a school mama and serving and writing all wrapped up in my friendships. And I forget to remember how great that is.

So. On a Sunday morning in a wooden pew with my eyes pinched tight so tears wouldn’t overflow, I decided to lean into how friendship looks for me right now. It wasn’t my idea. It was His.

I sent emails, facebook messages and texts. I wanted to know? Would all of these women like to meet for just two months at my house? We would study something together and we would get down to the rough and raw of real fellowship (at least, I hoped).

I was afraid. Afraid that everyone would say no. Afraid that I would pick a dumb book. Afraid that it would be too awkward.

And then that first night in June happened and I sat there in my den as fat tears of laughter and joy rolled down my cheeks. And then another night when I heard a “Me, too” from woman to woman. And then another night as I listened to how God was taking deep hurt and turning it into hope.

Over and over again, I’ve been so thankful for this group of women. If I have a tribe, surely they are it. They may be gathered from all different corners but they are God’s faithfulness to me.

I had been wading through discontent and insecurity. With a gentle nudge, God asked me to just do something about it. It hasn’t changed much about my life, this group. But it’s changed the way I see it. That’s what He’s in the business of doing: revealing beauty where we see none. I’m so thankful for it.

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