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texturedsoul

Lessons, Overflow

Fill ‘er Up

I’ve never really bought into having a word of the year.  I enjoy too many words to reduce it all down to just one.  Also, it takes me the full month of January to decide what my year goals will be, how could I decide on a word to encompass goals that haven’t been completely set?!  So naturally, when the new year rolled around I wasn’t looking for the perfect word to express my focus for 2018, until I heard it.  Scrolling through Instastories, I paused on Tiffany Hendra’s video (beautiful inside and out, exuding positive energy, AND a Texan?  Yes please!).  She was sharing that her word for the year was Overflow, focusing on operating from a place of overflow and not depletion. A southern baptist revival went off in my heart.  YES!

That said, I’d love to introduce you to my FIRST, borrowed word of the year, Overflow.  Purely judging on my past behavior, when I practice healthy self-care, nourish my heart, control my thoughts, and focus on the positive, I operate from a place overflow.  Overflow = Kindness and love.  When life gets crazy, and I am running on empty, I operate from a place of depletion.  Depletion = Nasty and judgemental.  Simply put – when I am depleted, I am not full of love. When I’m not filled with love, I operate like a hybrid of Judge Judy and Miss Hannigan – I think everyone needs to abide within my justice system, I treat children like orphans, and am looking for a drink.

Last fall, Teenager #1 decided he was vegan.  He politely asked for my debit card to go grocery shopping for his new dietary needs, and came back with food I had a hard time pronouncing or understanding.  When he got in from work each night, he would create beautiful vegan meals that Bobby Flay would be proud of.  This mom was impressed, who was this semi-child prodigy in the kitchen?  As his vegan journey progressed, my husband was worried Mason wasn’t getting enough protein.  As always, being the supporter he is, he researched the vegan lifestyle and figured out which supplements should be added into Mase’s daily diet.  Vitamins were ordered.

They came in on a Friday, which was also Homecoming in our small town.  Friday Night Lights are no joke in Texas, as we spend the week before planning the food and decor for our tailgate, set up right outside of the entrance gate of our stadium.  I’m not even gonna apologize for this ridiculousness, we love it.  Being Mason’s senior year, the year of “last”, I had my camera ready for every move he made.  At halftime, I made my way to the track to take pictures of the pretty people.  All of the beautiful Homecoming Queen nominees had been friends of his since grade school.  It was bittersweet seeing these precious babies, who had traipsed through our home for 12 years, now grown and dressed up in gorgeous dresses, glittering under the stadium lights.

Precious moments.  Only Mason did not get the memo to enjoy it, he was HANGRY with the attitude to match.  After watching him snap a couple of heads off, including mine, I finally told him to chill out.  The quick version of mom speech ending with, “This is the last Homecoming you will be on this track, quit acting like a brat and enjoy it!”.  He replied with a sigh, “Mom, I don’t think I can be vegan anymore.”  Oh good grief, get a snickers Betty White.  Mase was running on empty, depleted of nutrients his body needed to have a good attitude apparently.  I pointed to the concession stand and told him to go straight there and get a dang burger.  The vegan vitamins were returned.  His friends still make jokes about the two weeks that Mason was vegan, it was hell on us all.

Grace and her cheesy fans.
Not pictured – Betty White, he was at the concession stand.

Depletion is so dangerous, physically and mentally.  Running on empty is not a good look for me;  snappy, sassy, and short.  I’ve learned and accepted that I am an introvert.  This is surprising to some, myself included, as I love people and social events, as long as it follows some alone time for me.  This is when I fill up.  You can’t pour into people when your cup is empty.  Simply put, overflow isn’t possible when you are drained.  I’ve lived too many days running on empty, deplete of the emotional nutrients required for the life I strive to live.

Wonder where your cup level currently sits?  Just wait.  Your happy will be bumped soon enough, because that is life.  It is sweet and it is brutal, sometimes at the same time.  My great grandmother was the greatest example of overflow.  She didn’t overflow from having an easy life, quite the opposite.  She got married to a man who ran around on her, experienced divorce back when it was unheard of, buried three of her five babies, remarried a loving, widowed man and took on his children as her own.  Her husband, mother, and father all died within one year, and she lived for 55 more years without them.  And the ultimate depletion, she outlived all seven of her children.  Nannymom was loved by her many grands and great-grands, for we all sing her praises.  Through all the bumps of her life, we would have accepted and understood had she been grumpy or sad, but that wasn’t how she lived.  She lived in overflow, ready to pour into you when you came in the door.  She made us feel like we sparkled.

Our sweet Nannymom, we loved her a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.

Some of Nannymom’s last days were spent in our home.  She came to live with us when the boys were four and seven.  We got to celebrate her 100th birthday – passing her the phone when the White House called to wish her a happy birthday, watching her open a birthday card from President George Bush and Laura, and another from past president, Jimmy Carter.  We later made fried chicken and chocolate pie, and by “we”, I mean her.  I was simply the student.  Later that year, Nannymom had a stroke and was moved to a nursing home.  The hardest decision for me to accept.  Her first weekend there, I was there when she woke up and stayed until she was tucked in bed.  We had lots of directions for the nurses and staff, as she had never lived anywhere there wasn’t family in the next room.  On the third day, the doctor came in to see her and found both of us asleep in her bed.  He kindly, but sternly told me that I needed to go home and rest, that I was not going to be a good caregiver running on empty like I obviously was.  He irritated me with this, yet I knew it was true.

Our vehicles don’t work when they are on empty, we fill up with gas.  Our kitchens can’t produce a meal when the shelves are bare, which is why we grocery shop.  Nothing runs on empty, so why would we expect to?  I encourage you friend, invest in your cup filling, whatever that looks like for you.  Rest, read, coffee and some quiet solitude, go for a run or walk, yoga, weights, vegging out with a Real Housewives marathon (this is a no judgement zone), go craft something, write, sew, snuggle with a puppy or baby lamb, whatever it is…..filler up my friend.

May we operate from a place of overflow.  That when our life gets bumped, what spills out of the top is love, and not Judge Judy

* While Mason hasn’t committed to being a vegan again, he is now a vegetarian.  Lord, help us all.

January 22, 2018 by
Shoes, Textured Threads

Textured Threads

I love clothes.  I love fashion.  I love funky shoes.

I’ve already used too many words to explain something most people know.  Because of this fact, we are going to start a weekly Textured Threads post that is purely superficial and shallow, yet hopefully helpful!  I say “we” because a couple of friends will contribute from time to time.  No precious words or complex thoughts.  Just fun fashion.   At this point, I have said no to having a boutique of any kind because, time.  Instead, let us point you in the direction!

Here are my new favorite casual slip on sneakers. You can click on the title for the link on where to find them!

These shoes are so comfy.  I wear them to everything when I’m not working.  It’s like my feet are saying, “I’m so casual and ready to party. In a jungle.”  I also plan my trips to the metroplex around this Boutique’s schedule.  I stalk them without shame – in return, they clothe me well.  So, we are basically in a relationship.  I usually wear a 7 in most shoes, these I comfortably wear a 6.5.

www.tinroseboutique.com

 

Camo is a love language of mine.  Not the camouflage you would find in the perfectly organzied, hunting room at our house, but cute camo.  Stay in your lane friend, I know mine well.  Also, on a side note, I’m newly obsessed with Evereve, and recently signed on for their Trendsend , the subscription style service made for moms! Stay tuned!

www.everve.com

*Photo by @prairiemum because photos take time. 

Classic. I love these.  Oatmeal is a current favorite, a warm winter neutral.

Found @ Nordstroms

 

There I was, walking in Target – helping a friend find some goods to help organize her office..and then, BAM!  Quirky love at first sight.  A more reasonable option for some fun slip on sneakers.  They are so comfy too.

www.target.com

 

Here is another pair that I’ve had my eye on…for the days I want to embrace the Native American roots.

Barracuda Slip On

 

Have a favorite slip on sneaker?  Please share!

January 17, 2018 by
Family, Love, Parenting

Above All Else…

The gentleness of Jesus is always what brings me back to His teachings.  His humility and love, His simple way of looking at things.  On the spectrum of Jesus, I’ve occupied a lot of different spots – a fan, a hopeless skeptic, a follower, a stubborn brat, a believer, a disobedient wanderer, an admirer, frustrated, confused, and in awe of Him.  In my early adulthood, I got tired of trying to figure Jesus out, so I quit.  I laid Him down for awhile as I would a book that was too long or hard to read.  I felt He was too complicated and I was never going to able to please Him.

In the Chris Tomlin song, he describes Jesus as;

Who walks on the waters
Who speaks to the sea
Who stands in the fire beside me”

It is almost too good to believe that One with the power to walk on the water and speak to the sea, would still have the gentle lamb-like humility and love to stand in the fire beside me.  Not just standing beside me, but wanting me to know and believe I have power through him.

What has broken my heart more than anything on my spiritual journey is what has been referred to as the “Christian Machine”.  So much in fact that I have found myself pausing before labeling myself a Christian.  What I will claim is clinging to and learning from the teachings of Jesus.

Please don’t read judgement in that last paragraph, for I have played a part in the legalistic machine as well.  Years ago, I sat with a friend, crying over the death of her mother, and then she asked me if I thought her mom was in heaven.  I mentally checked my Christian Rules and Regulation handbook made by man and replied, “No”.   I completely based this on the way she died.  I had never met her mom, nor did I know her heart.  Such ignorance took the place of love.  Even though I have since gone back to fix it, the posture and judgement of my heart grieves me to this day. I think Jesus grieved that day as well.

As Bob Goff says, “We keep pushing people off of the roofs that we need to be lowering them down from.”  There is enough love for everyone, it multiplies when used, and it never, ever divides.

Above all, love each other deeply…” I Peter 4:8

It’s as simple as Jesus said love.  I have a gay son, and it is well with my soul.  There have been some things we have had to unpack and work out, but God was so gracious to give me a peace from Night One.  (When hard things come in my life, I can’t help but count the days.  My friend Amy says we know we will be okay when we wake up and forget to count.  It’s true.)  It wasn’t a peace that took away the questions, pain, or fear for his future – but it is a bottom line peace.  A peace that says all will be fine because he is mine, perfectly and wonderfully made.  The saddest part about him telling me that he was gay was the first sentence, “Mom, I’m a Christian, but I’m also gay and I don’t know where that leaves me.”  It was a failing report card on exactly what I had taught him about Jesus.  Forgive me Creator.  Jesus said love, so I’ve added His love on top of my Momma love and it is truly well with my soul.

I know what the bible says – so please don’t quote it to me.  For if you do, I’ll gently weed through your rule book and point you to Jesus’s bottom line.  Love.  Above all else.  (On the days I’m struggling to love you, I’ll just point to my “Mama Bear” bracelet. Because every mother has a mission; to love, guide and protect her family.  Don’t mess with her while she’s on it.)

Listen, I’m a front row student on this – and some days back row, sleeping behind my text book.  We all have our quicksand – life is sweet, we are walking along, loving the mess out of life and people…then boom, quicksand.  We step into it without even realizing it and is sucks the love straight out of us.  What’s left is rating and judging. It’s easy for me to love our family stuff, but yours?  Eww.  How about when we feel unloved, yet are still called to love?  What does that look like for you?  Hard. That’s what it looks like for me.  My nerves can be sat on faster than a hot knife through butter.  I believe we all would be happier and more whole if we each had a Love Snuggie.  Our arms would be free to be the hands and to do the love work, while our heart and core would be wrapped in the warmth of a love-snuggie hug.  Just think about it, it might be a great addition to your capsule wardrobe.  Nowadays they come in all sorts of prints and patterns, even leopard.

If none of this sparked a love fire in you, let me come at it from a different angle.  Beauty tips.  Loving and carrying for others reveals the best version of ourselves.  Which means our prettiest, youngest looking version.  Better than any wrinkle cream.  For reals.  Just test it.

Let’s open our hearts, blow out the dust and allow it to be filled with love.  If we are judging, we are not loving.  If we aren’t loving, then we aren’t pointing to the teachings of Jesus.  We may end up in quicksand from time to time, yet we always have a choice to reach for the love rope to pull us back out.  Grab the robe, hoist yourself out and start loving.  I doubt we would ever regret such a decision.

Loving you BIG friend.

*I will eventually share some of my writings regarding our journey with Mason coming out almost two years ago.  He has given me permission from the beginning, I am just choosing to respect and honor the space of what is intimate on this journey.  Until I feel that time is right, my ears and heart are always open for anyone on a similar journey needing a safe place to chat.  Or a hug because life is sweet but sometimes hard.

 

January 15, 2018 by
Family, Forgivness, Grace, Lessons, Love, Patience

Pippi, the Indian, and the Lessons throughout

I love you sugar, come see us when you can.”

I can still hear him saying that.  Even though our grandmother had passed on years before, he always ended our calls with “Come see us when you can”, perhaps it made him feel less lonely.  My weekend visits to see Pippi began when I was in high school.  I would take a friend, as I believed the pink brick house in Claude was haunted in ways I can’t fully explain.  It just was.  Later, I would plan my visits around when cousin Monica could meet me there for a visit with our beloved grandpa.  When Pippi passed away, it was Monica that called to tell me, which was fitting, as he was the tie that brought us together in our adulthood.

Monica and I with our sweet Pip

I was older by the time I really got close to Pippi.  He had lost an adult child (my dad) and his beloved wife of 44 years. He mourned for them deeply, but kept living.  He didn’t have another choice.  On every visit, we would have some reason to go into Amarillo – usually to shop, see more family, or for church followed by lunch at Furr’s Cafeteria.  A certainty on these visits, was that on the way home, he would exit I-40, turn left and enter into the graveyard that held our loved ones.  In my younger teenage years, this was weird, but comforting in an odd way.  It was the only time I had to pay my respects to the dad I barely knew and our sweet grandmother, both who left too soon.

Monica and I were very protective of Pippi.  His favorite thing to do when we came into town was take us to the café for breakfast, to show off his granddaughters.  In his later years, the locals weren’t as kind to Pip as we thought they should be.  A few years before he stopped driving, he was put on a new medicine that made him sleepy.  One morning, on his drive to the café, he fell asleep at the wheel, crossed over into the two oncoming lanes of traffic and landed his car into the building that faced the courthouse.

Claude is a small town in the panhandle of Texas, about 30 minutes east of Amarillo.  One of the town’s monuments was a cement Indian that stood out in front of the antique store.  Unfortunately, when Pippi’s truck finally rolled to a stop, it had mowed the sacred Native American statue down.  Thankfully, the non-breathing, cement man was the only casualty of the accident.

The folks of Claude handled this news hard.  The grief-stricken people had a funeral for the Indian and buried him.  Let me be clear for those in the back – they buried a CEMENT STATUE. When travelers driving down highway 287 started asking the locals where the antique statue went, they dug the cement Indian back up, pieced him back together as best they could, and stuck him in a wheel chair for all to see and enjoy again.  I kid you not.  Creepiest looking thing ever.

Visiting the Claude Indian. Poor McCray wouldn’t even stand by it. They even laid his cement fingers in his lap. Grief makes you do funny things.

It was after that incident that the locals weren’t as kind or patient with Pippi, and his granddaughters didn’t like it one bit.  Breakfast wasn’t as sweet when we were dodging the looks of disappointment and judgement.  Sometimes I think they thought that our Pip might have talked too much, which is exactly when Monica and I would really ramp up our interest in the story that we had already heard seven times before.

Pippi was a patient man who loved at all times. We chose to take his teachings and reciprocate the love back to him.  They say grace is like working a muscle, the more you work it, the stronger it gets.  The love muscle works the same.  I never saw Pip lift a weight or run a block, but boy did he exercise the right muscles.

Once, we had a family reunion in Irving, three of us cousins took our grandparents car to the store to get bread. Our grandmother, Tootie, didn’t want to lose their good parking spot at the hotel we were staying at.  It was right in front of their room, so you can see why this spot was coveted. So, she had sweet, obedient Pip stand in the parking spot while we drove off to get some white bread. (Pippi may not have had a t-shirt stating, “Happy wife, Happy life”, but he lived by the mantra. Smart man.)  On our quick trip to the store, we made several detours, including dropping by to see a friend of Monica’s. You should never trust a new driver to make a quick trip, two hours later, we pulled into the hotel parking lot to find Pippi still standing in the good parking spot.

Now that I’m an adult and a parent to a driver, I can’t fully put into clean words the irritation I would have with my kiddos had it been me standing in the good parking spot during a Texas summer, for several hours. But Pippi didn’t show any anger, he wiped the sweat off his brow and simply asked if we got the bread.

Two things warm my heart about that memory. He stood there in the Texas heat to keep Tootie’s good parking spot, because…happy wife, happy life.  Secondly, the three teenage granddaughters who needed to be reprimanded, were instead gifted with patience and grace.

Pippi loved at all times. He loved when it wasn’t convenient or easy. He loved at times when others weren’t loving or lovable. He extended love and grace. He provided a safe haven for so many of us.  In a complicated world, he was not.

Nowadays, we speak of love languages. And I’m fairly confident that Pippi covered all of them. Quality time – he was always happy to offer to all of us. Words of affirmation – he was never shy about sharing how much he loved us. Physical Touch – there was never a shortage of hugs.  Acts of service – he spent years protecting his country & providing for a family.  And the final one, Gifts – I think all of us cousins would agree this was covered by consistently providing sugar cereal to the grandkids, and in later years, breakfast at the cafe in Claude.

Love is patient, Love is kind, Pippi not only understood this, but created a life around it.

And his granddaughter is still gleaming from his example.

 

*My apologies for those offended by my use of the word “Indian”.  Since I am one, I deemed it okay to use it in my blog post.  I normally use the term Native American, but that is not the name of the statue in Claude. It’s name is “Indian”.

 

January 7, 2018 by
Christmas, Family, Love

Let every Heart prepare Him room…

Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.”

I’ve had a form of that thought on our Christmas cards for the past three years.  As crazy as this season can get, I want every friend who reads it to pause, feel and know the worth of their soul.

I love Christmas with every molecule in my body.  I could live in the North Pole and would willingly be Santa’s helper –  even accepting payment in candy canes.  And yet, as much as I love it, I’m the second to admit that the traditions created under the holiday of the Jesus’s birth have gotten a little out of hand.  I think Jesus would be the first to admit it. Please don’t misunderstand me, I want to celebrate His birth.  I also want to adorn the seven themed Christmas trees in our home.  I love traditions, and I think he is okay with us having secular traditions at his birthday party, because truthfully, he was probably born in March. Or September?  I don’t know, but it’ll be in my top 86 questions to ask when I get to walk and talk with Him in the garden.  When was your actual birthday Jesus?  What zodiac sign are you really?  Which of our Christmas trees was your favorite?  (I’m betting He says the champagne colored Chrismon tree with my grandparents angel on top.)

Loving Christmas runs in my blood.  I’m convinced my grandmother’s middle name was Kringle.  My mom and grandmother would convince me to go to sleep by tucking me in beside Nannymom, my great-grandmother.  While my mom stood at the door telling me goodnight, Meme would swing the end of Santa’s hat over her head for me to catch a glimpse of.  This ensured me squeezing my eyes shut and trying to force sleep to come soon, so Santa would be sure to leave the gifts with my name on them.

When I was seven, my parents decided to stop celebrating Christmas, basically for the reason I stated above.  They now viewed it as a secular holiday with a biblical reason tagged to it.  I get it, I just didn’t love it.  I went from living in the North Pole to simply living in Amarillo.  I informed my grandmother that the gig was up, Santa wasn’t real.  I knew this because my parents had told me the truth.  I felt very grown up while telling her this, but was a little hopeful when she adamantly replied that Santa was the real deal.

From my second grade memory; one random day, close to Christmas, the doorbell rang.  When I answered it, I found two huge, lawn and leaf bags full of presents on the front porch, along with two Strawberry Shortcake rocking chairs beside them.  I shouted to my parents, pulled the bags in and started opening presents in the bag for me. (The other being for my new baby sister.)  They were all from Santa Claus himself, he must deliver early for those who don’t believe anymore.  A few minutes later the bell rang again, with my grandparents on the other side of the door.  What a coincidence.  They stepped in – Meme decked out in her big fur coat, and said something like, “We were just on our way home from dinner and wanted to stop in and say hi.”.   I couldn’t contain my excitement, and began showing them what all Santa had brought for India and I.  Meme replied with a wink, “See, I told you Santa was real and wouldn’t forget about you this year.”

I miss her always, but never more than Christmas time.

That memory always makes me smile.  My poor parents, I’m sure they were furious for several reasons, one being that Ol’ Saint Nick hadn’t remembered them, but they were good sports about it.  Years later, they started celebrating Christmas again.  Judging from the number of icicles that my mom threw on the tree that first year, I think it’d be safe to say she had missed Christmas as well.

This year, I have walked into rooms, forgetting the reason exactly five hundred times a day.  I have wrapped 836 presents and gone through seven rolls of tape.  I’m irritated that I haven’t fit in as many Hallmark Christmas movies as I had planned on.  My kids are tired and cranky – sick of studying for finals and sniffling from winter colds. There have been some attitude adjustments needed and had. Even my roomba isn’t minding me. Getting lost and stuck at every turn. Come on Rosie, how many times have you vacuumed this house?  And you still don’t know your way around?!   I feel like Jessie off of Saved by the Bell, wishing there were more time and looking for no-doz.  On a deeper level, we have friends whose hearts are broken this year.  The holidays making them feel their loss even harder.  Our hearts are burdened and heavy for so many reasons and for so many people.

And then, when I pause to admire the warm glow of the tree, I remember what Bob Goff shared…

Bob also contemplated that he bet the Innkeeper later wished he had made more room than he thought he had for Jesus.

Let every heart prepare him room.

I’m sure there are still things left on your list to do.  There always will be my friend. How about the preparations of your heart?  Have you filled all your margins of time with chores and gifts?  What is left for Him? What if we prepared our hearts as much as we do our homes? There is garland and candles on every open space here at home, but how warm and inviting is our heart?

I love our Christmas traditions, I wait and prepare all year for them.  I don’t imagine this is going to slow down while I’m physicaly able.  It would be odd to keep these Christmas decorations up throughout the year.  You know what wouldn’t be odd?  Preparing our hearts year round.  Daily.  Shall we?  Pick up the broom, grab some candles, and keep some time set aside to nuture that space.

No matter the day of His actual birthday, I cherish this season to celebrate him.  The baby who God sent to find us, because your soul is worth it beloved.

A favorite tradition…Christmas Eve service.

 

December 22, 2017 by