caught off guard

I'm still caught off guard at times.

A memory will rise to the surface, seemingly out of nowhere, bringing with it fears and doubts and insecurities and tears. I question everything, wondering about hidden motives and looking for anything I missed the first the time around. There isn't anger—not really. There is distrust. There is hurt. There is grief. But no anger. At least not toward anyone other than myself. Feelings of foolishness spiral into "How could I be so stupid?"  Inevitably, as the emotional dust settles, I'm left with a deep missing of all the people who were once my whole life who are no longer even a part of it. I hunt for pictures, and sit mesmerized by how grown up my nephew is. By how tall my honorary nieces and nephews of old have become—tall not only with stature but with personality and vivaciousness. Smiles mix in with the sadness, and I take a deep breath...

:::

I'm still caught off guard at times.

I walk through the arched doorways of my home, past the wainscoting in the living room, and all I can do is shake my head. Moving about the beautiful kitchen, shuffling around the mess on my office desk, sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee... over and over again, it hits me: This is my now-life. This is my new life. And I smile—the kind of smile that erupts from deep down inside, that sacred place for which there are no words. I can't believe I get to live here. That I once again have a place that looks like me and feels like me. That I once again have a home. Because as much as I know that home isn't about a house, I've discovered there's something uniquely incomparable about a four-wall refuge. It's anchoring, and rooting, and settling in all the best ways. And the past 6 months of living life unpacked have been better for my heart than I ever anticipated.

:::

I'm still caught off guard at times.

And I'm learning to give thanks in it all...

Would you share some of your own highs and lows?  What are things that have caught you off guard lately—for better and for worse?

about YOU

My 100 things post inspired a few friends to write lists of their own. So now it's your turn!

Post a list of things about yourself that many of us might not already know. You don't have to make it a full 100—you could do 50 things, or 25, or however many you want.

Then come back and link up so we can all get to know you better! 

Tag, you're it.

:: :: ::

100 things

1. I lost my Long Island accent in Africa,
2. but time with my family—even just over the phone—brings it right back.
3. So does talking about things I'm passionate about.
4. And driving in traffic.

5. I blame my Sicilian roots for my loud talking and laughing,
6. and, of course, for my inability to speak without using my hands.

7. The word moist makes me shudder
8. almost as much as ointment. 
9. And bars of soap just plain creep me out.

10. I maintain a healthy fear of treadmills
11. because of laughing-till-crying at countless YouTube videos of people completely wiping out on them. (Search it. You'll thank me later.)

12. I haven't yet mastered the art of neatly applying nail polish or mascara. Both end up looking like a crime scene.
13. And I'm the messiest teeth-brusher on the planet. Seriously.
14. So I brush my teeth in the shower. It's just better for everyone that way.

15. I don't really like water—either drinking it or being in it—
16. but I absolutely love an ocean view
17. and my perfect vacation includes a swim-up bar.

18. I love not camping,
19. hate wet grass,
20. and generally have a "like to look, not touch" stance on all things outdoors.
21. Although I've hiked Pike's Peak,
22. whitewater-rafted the Zambezi River,
23. lived in a tent in the African bush for months at a time,
24. and eaten Mopani (grub) worms.

25. I don't like bacon (I hope we can still be friends)
26. or chocolate—
27. except for dark chocolate with a glass of red wine (mmmm....) and the occasional M&Ms or Reese's—
28. but I can eat my weight in cheese
29. and goldfish (the crackers, not the actual fish).

30. I prefer to eat things from the inside out, not the outside in.
31. So I cut things like burgers and sandwiches in half
32. and rip apart cookies, so I can start on the inside.
33. Yes. I fully own the fact that I'm weird.

34. I am a walking musical,
35. even though I can't sing. At all. I'm not even kidding.
36. But I love spontaneously interjecting off-key songs, usually remixed with whatever words come to mind.

37. I don't like talking on the phone
38. and would choose text over talk any day.
39. I have to constantly fight the urge to judge people who write in text-speak. (BTW, c u 2nite! LOL!)

40. I've got a severe case of wanderlust.
41. I've spent time in 29 countries,
42. and I really want to add a 30th to that list. Soon.
43. And I'd love to spend more time in Italy. How about a month? In a villa. In Tuscany. Yes please.

44. As much as I enjoy traveling, I equally love coming home.
45. I can be quite the homebody when I let myself.
46. I think that sometimes doing nothing is far better than doing everything,
47. and my favorite friends are those who comfortably enjoy doing both.

48. The tests say I'm an introvert,
49. but I beg to differ.
50. The mere thought of eating alone at a restaurant, watching a movie solo, or going on vacation by myself makes me want to cry.
51. 99% of my joy of experiencing something is having someone to experience it with.
52. Otherwise, who would laugh with me? (Laughing's my favorite.)
53. So I've decided I'm a self-diagnosed extroverted introvert.

54. I wish I had a poker face,
55. but in a lot of ways, I'm glad I wear my heart on my sleeve.
56. I'm working on growing thicker skin though.

57. I never thought I would get a tattoo.
58. Now I have three,
59. and I don't think I'm done yet.

60. I'm ordained.

61. I buy hats more often than I wear them,
62. but I really want to be a hat girl. Someday.

63. I frequently have to ask a friend if what I'm wearing "makes me look like a missionary". 
64. Quite a few articles of clothing have been vetoed, but I can't always bring myself to get rid of them.
65. My wardrobe needs an extreme makeover.

66. I've never been able to do a cartwheel,
67. or whistle,
68. or make my bed every day.
69. I can, however, sock-skate across wood floors like it's an Olympic sport.

70. Autumn is my absolute most favorite time of year.

71. This white girl can't dance, but still loves to. Isn't that what kitchens were made for?
72. I've been known to one-person Conga-line through the house
73. and bust out in my own version of a Touchdown dance for no reason at all.

74. I love the first 20 seconds in a hot car after I've been in air conditioning. It feels like a full-body hug.

75. I always lean my airplane seat back ever so slightly as soon as I sit in it—
76. that extra quarter-inch of room makes me feel like a rebel.
77. Sometimes I have to force myself to break the rules, even a little bit.

78. I don't enjoy reading as much as I used to,
79. But given the right circumstances, I still love a book worth losing myself in.

80. I firmly believe that food tastes better when someone else cooks it.
81. And if my budget (and waistline) would allow, I'd eat out almost every day.
82. I can be a bit of a food snob,
83. but I also love ramen noodles, Kraft Mac & Cheese, and baseball game hot dogs.
84. I do a happy food dance when I like what I'm eating—which is pretty often.
85. Sharing an amazing meal with my family is one of my all-time favorite things to do. Ever.

86. I think the saying "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" is a lie.
87. In other news, I've been trying to lose 10 pounds for over a decade.

88. I am ridiculously sentimental.
89. Songs, smells, and places always carry memories,
90. and pretty much everything I own holds some sort of significance.
91. (Which is why my vetoed clothes just get relocated to the back of my closet.)

92. I live perpetually tired,
93. but struggle to fall asleep most nights.
94. Mornings and I don't get along very well.

95. I dreamed I'd live in Africa forever.
96. Though cut short, my 13 years there were a lifetime. This I know.

97. I never ever ever imagined I'd live in Nashville,
98. although there was my pre-teen Amy Grant-loving stage when I desperately wanted to.
99. But I find myself loving this little big town.
100. And I'm only half-joking when I say that living in Africa prepared me to live in the South.

Tell me something about you that I probably don't already know.

You can also link up your own "Things About Me" post here >

depth of vision

My depth of vision has changed. 

Years ago, living in Africa, the future seemed clearly in focus. I was a farsighted dreamer, easily imagining how things would continue to take shape because of how much I loved the portrait of my life. I didn't try to plan out the details or neurotically control the unfolding pages of my future, but it was there, ever clear in the back of my mind. Even without all the details, it was simply... there. A future I anticipated.

Now, I find myself much more nearsighted. 

The horizon is out of focus, and I can't see which way the road bends. Everything looks blurry, as though the future is blanketed in fog. It's all just too fuzzy and uncertain and precarious. I can't imagine any longer what I'd even want the end of the story to be. I no longer picture where I'm headed and how I'll get there or who I might go there with.

It used to feel like hopelessness. Like a big piece of me that had given up still hadn't sprung back to life.

But I'm learning to accept it as a good thing, or at the very least, as simply what is. Not as something bad, or wrong, or to be fixed. It's just a part of my new normal that I need to stop fighting against and simply embrace.

The One who holds my past, holds my future as well. So it doesn't really matter whether or not I can see it.

My depth of vision has changed.

But His hasn't.

if i could

If I could find big enough words, I would tell you how grateful I am for the big-hearted, generous, and faithful loved ones who’ve walked with me, supported me, and strengthened me since I left African soil.

If I could find deep enough words, I would describe for you how unbelievably amazing it feels to be this settled after so many years of transitional limbo—and how good for my heart it has been.

If I could find strong enough words, I would explain my newfound understanding and awareness of grace.

If I could find clear enough words, I would recount for you my daily journey of learning to acknowledge and own that I am enough, and I have enough, because of the enoughness of Christ in me.

If I could find impactful enough words, I would articulate for you the ways I’m embracing a lack of plans, and my discovery that it really is okay.

If I could find weighty enough words, I would convey to you the matchless, anchoring, and freeing sense of home I’m discovering once again.

If I could... I would.

But I can’t...