Bigger Picture Moment: Hers was the First

Hers was the first voice to whisper loud through the darkness that my own voice -- just a mother of a toddler, 25 and lonely-hard reaching -- wasn't lost amid the autumnal heaping piles of seasoned falling leaves on the internet.

That I wasn't just the mother of a toddler with a same--sung-song as all the rest, but that I was the mother of a toddler with a voice of my own and heart that stretched far and wide into motherhood, yes, but that also was rooted deep in the other soils of life that grow the heart of a woman.

Hers were the first words that were bright beacons of promise guiding me through the last weeks of being heavy with another child, calming, reassuring that my heart wouldn't betray me when our family grew by one more and that love would rush forth like a spring newly sprung.

Hers were among the first hands to commit to building a haven for connection and creativity, designing a foundation we all build upon each week, word by word, story by story, bigger picture by bigger picture.

And hers was the first heart here in the vast open online prairie with which I felt my own trade strings, back and forth, back and forth, building thread by thread a hand-knit friendship that spans hundreds and hundreds of land-lay miles.

I have been beyond blessed; there have been many voices, many words, many hands, many hearts since hers with which I've connected because of this small space I bravely and humbly, fiercely and timidly claimed as my own almost five years ago this December -- some of whom I call my best friends.

But hers were the first, and without her first voice, her words, her hands, her heart, my own voice, my own words, my own hands and my own heart wouldn't be what they've become.

I owe her much, and yet, I know because of who she is, I owe her nothing at all.

This afternoon, in the early October sunlight her plane will land here in Chicago

And  for the first time in person, amid the tree branches dancing with vibrant golds and deep, dark reds, I will hear in person the first voice in the blogosphere that so encouraged, the first words that so healed after I cried out for comfort.

For the first time, I'll embrace the hands that have built with me

and I'll weave another few threads with the heart of a most beautiful soul.

One that I knew long before we ever met.

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week.. 

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week HERE! Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Everyday Life: Sing

Sometimes it gets all murky.

Why I come here and open the flood gate to my heart waters, sharing pieces of life I'd maybe have trouble finding words for if we were in person enjoying a morning together beneath sun while watching little ones play in the still-green grass of late August.

Why I open white pages and scrawl out our story, pushing publish without not knowing who exactly is reading our open-book life.

Why I ever thought anyone would want to come into this space and linger for a few moments of the day.

Why I open myself to the criticisms and opinions and allow voices that aren't always kind a microphone of sorts.

I go through these waters every so often when life starts swirling and churning and kicking up sands and muck. In fact, there's been so much muck and mud swirling and churning that its kind of drown out my voice and let me quiet here and well everywhere.

Yesterday a good friend, a soul friend, emailed sharing much of these same heart aches and growing pains that stir when it comes to writing our lives and stories onto pages for others to read and share.

She called it something along the lines of existentialism about blogging, which made me laugh, too, amid the seriousness of this creative pondering and I immediately thought of a song I used to sing my heart out to while driving -- Straylight Run's Existentialism on Prom Night. And as I ruminated on her words and other friends' words, I began making a playlist because I'm always so influenced and motivated and freed by music.

In the murkiness, the words from friends and the words in song were just what I needed to sit in stillness and let all of the sediment fall to the bottom around my feet until the water started getting clearer again:

"Sing with your head up,
with your eyes closed
not because you love the song
but because you love to sing."
{Copeland}

As I quite literally sang, all those whys I was asking and other people often ask me -- all the sediment -- fell to the bottom around my feet -- leaving clear water in their settling.

While I do sing because I love the song

I sing mostly because I love to sing.

And I think most of the time

we all just need to throw our heads back, close our eyes

and sing.

{If you're feeling like you might need a little encouragement to sing your passion, you can listen to my playlist on Spotify for free.}

Five-Minute Friday: Beyond

Long chased and loved there's this dream I've carried around in the pocketbook of my heart, all folded up and tucked gently away like a love note or a picture of a beloved.

And every once in a while I've been known to pull it out in the midst of laundry and lunches and love and read it over and over again 

until I can see it alive and vibrant with breath in its lungs and soul sparkling in its eyes -- me pressing feet onto untred paths, me pressing black ink into white paper, writing their hearts, their lives into words that wander into other hearts, take a seat at the table and linger long after dinner guests normally stay 


-- invited and enjoyed --

There are long days filled to the brim with laundry, lunches and love and my heart sings for the reality I love and the boys and the husband and the life that's unfolded. 


I may not be a journalist walking tepid paths telling stories of the brow-beaten souls on faraway soil


but I've been given long-term assignment from the Editor here in this lush and hot and incredible jungle of motherhood tattooing these stories, our story onto a small screen, into a small space.

And you. You come here to share life and share words and share stories.

And it's beyond what I've imagined, what I've long dreamed and carried for so many years. 

Everyday Life:{Not-so} Blind Date

Earlier this week, I shared with John that I was getting butterflies in my stomach from all the excitment surrounding my blind-esqueish date with the talented Alita of Alita Jewel Treasures.

I was mostly joking about it being a blind date and all, but there was that little twinge of nervousness mixed in with the excitement centering around our meet up, like that of what would happen before a blind date.

Turns out, Alita's house is in driving distance from where my family vacations in Michigan, so we made plans early this summer to spend an afternoon together in July; and our plans came to fruition yesterday when Alita and I met at a restaurant in Kalamazoo and drank our weight in tea and coffee.

During one of the quickest three hours of my life, we talked like we were old friends, sharing ideas and back stories, expounding on thoughts and dreams, giggling over our kids and stories about dating our hubbies.

While Alita and I were talking about the complextity of relationships built through blogging, I shared how I'd started thinking about how our meeting wasn't so much a blind-date type of one. Rather, it felt much more like meeting that far-in-the-distance but at the same time close-to-your-heart penpal you've been corresponding with about everything under the sun for seemingly ever.

Maybe, for like a split second or two, you wonder what if we just don't click when we're face to face. But then you go back to all of the written words that have interwoven your heart strings. And then, maybe for another split second {or three}, you wonder, what if I'm so completely different in person than what I come across in my blog?

But then you see each other and grin wide, hug hello and suddenly three minutes turns into three hours and those thoughts are but distant memories.

And you realize, really, it was a not-so-blind date, afterall.