Those Who Inspire

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I know a guy who followed a girl to Africa.

That girl is his wife.

She inspires him, it’s obvious—you can see it in the way he talks about her, the way he looks at her, and in the way he pursues so much more with his life because of her. If you talk to him for very long you can tell she makes him want to be a better man, she makes him want to do more with his life. I knew him in college. He was funny and well-liked but a bit of a drifter— now he’s dead focused on a mission and he’s pouring his life into helping other people.

I watch this couple and I wonder if I inspire others the way she inspires him. Do I inspire my own husband to be his best self? Or do I frustrate and discourage him in a world already filled with obstacles?

It’s so easy to be a downer, to always see the obstacles and the impossibility of a situation. Honestly, I think a lot of times I’m quick to tell my husband to quit. I tell him it’s too hard or not worth the time and money. I tell him not to try, not to take the risk.

What if my friend’s wife had told her husband the same things? What if she told him Africa was too far, too dangerous, or not worth the time and money? He would be a different person on a different road in life—and the people he touches in Africa would be on a different road too.

It’s funny because watching her inspire him inspires me too. She makes me want to be a better wife and person. She makes me want to look beyond the challenges and see the possibilities.

I hope going forward I can help my husband and those around me face the world with hope and courage. I hope I can speak to the beauty and wonder all around us each day. I hope I can learn to overcome my own negativity and grow into a woman of faith and courage.

Inspiration can be beautifully contagious—spread some.

Confidence and Insecurity

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I struggle a lot with insecurity. I worry about how I look and what people think of me. I’ve been thinking about why I feel so insecure and care so much about other people’s opinions. What I realized was pretty simple: I worry and feel insecure because I’m filled with pride.

Here’s the pattern I see:

{1} I’m filled with pride so I worry about what other people think of me.

{2} Because I worry about what other people think of me, I feel like I need to look and act a certain way to be good enough.

{3} To look that certain way I spend too much time, thought, and money on clothing and my physical appearance.

{4} Then I end up comparing myself to other people to see if I’m good enough.

{5} If I don’t feel good enough, I get jealous and competitive and try to outdo other people.

{6} If I compare myself to someone and decide I’m actually more attractive or talented than they are, then my heart is filled with pride and an I’m-better-than-you attitude.

{7} Because I’m worried about what people will think of me, I hide behind silence. I’m afraid if I start talking I’ll say something stupid and people won’t like me. I only say what’s safe. I only write what’s safe. I don’t really let people in or share my heart.

When I base my value on the opinions of other people, I end up feeling like I’ll never be good enough. I’ll never be as smart, funny, or talented as that other writer or as thin and put together as that other girl.

I tell myself if I could just have that outfit, or more friends, or a more popular blog—then I will be good enough. Then I will be confident and satisfied. Then I can be the person I’m supposed to be.

But these are all lies I tell myself.

Because the problem isn’t my outfit or personality or anything else about who I am.

My problem is in what I look to for security.

If I’m looking to myself or to other people I will never find satisfaction or peace in my heart. My heart will only ever be filled with pride and jealousy.

The problem isn’t who I am. The problem isn’t who I’m not. The problem is when I try to find myself in anything but God.

Donald Miller said,

“None of us are here by accident. We were born because God loves to create. And He was pleased when you were born.”

He’s right. And if I could just believe he’s right then maybe I could finally have peace in my heart about who I am. Because who I am is exactly who God wanted me to be.

I’m not perfect, but I’m complete in Christ.

I’m not the outfit I’m wearing or how much I weigh. I’m not the number of friends I have or the amount of money I make.

I’m a part of God’s creation, a chapter (or line) in his story. The story isn’t about me and I’m not the author. This is his story and I’m here only to play a part.

God has a plan for me and a part he wants me to play in his narrative. It would be a sad waste to spend my whole life trying to tell a story about myself instead of him.

It would be a sad waste to worry more about what people think about me than what they know about my God.

It would be a sad waste to spend all my time and thought trying to be the prettiest girl in the room so people will look at and admire me rather than helping others look at and admire my God.

What a waste of words to write only the safe things that will make people like me rather than the scary things that might point someone to something so much better than anything I can offer.

What a waste to spend my life silent and insecure because all I think about is the story I’m telling rather than the greater narrative in which I play a part.

As long as I look to myself and the opinions of others, I will remain proud and insecure. But if I will look to Christ and find my small place in his great narrative, then I can live with the confidence and security I need to accomplish all I am meant to do in this life.

Words

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Dear One,

You say you want to know me; I’m afraid you never will. I’ve seen the way you are. I’ve heard the words you speak. I’ve watched your actions closely and know better than to let you in.

You are friends with everyone in the room…until everyone leaves.

You flatter to the face only to tear down behind the back.

How can I trust you after what I’ve seen? How can I open up and share my heart when your words would break the hearts of those who love and trust you?

How can I trust you’re not talking badly about me when I’ve heard your harsh words about so many others?

I can’t. I can’t trust you and I won’t let you in.

You’re not safe. You think you cover your tracks. You think your words are never known to the one you’re speaking about—and maybe they aren’t. But I’ve seen too much.

You make me want to hide. I stay silent to protect myself from you and the things you will say.

And yet, I know from what I’ve seen, that you talk about me too. I know when I’m not there to defend myself you are critiquing and criticizing my every fault and shortcoming.

I could never be good enough for you—no one can. No one is outside your reach or beyond your words

And yet you say you want to know me.

Why would I ever let you in?

It’s a fearful thing to let someone in. It’s scary to share your story, your faults and fears. It would be mad to share such vulnerabilities with someone you know will turn on you.

My secrets aren’t safe with you and so you’ll never know them. I speak my heart to you and you share my secrets with ten others.

Do you think talking about my problems will fix them? Do you tear me down to build yourself up?

Love could change everything, you know.

If you could love others in spite of their faults. If you could encourage rather than criticize. If you could hold your tongue and open your heart—that could change everything.

If I could trust you, then I could let you in. If I felt safe with you and loved by you, then you could know me.

I know you think you’re helping. I know you think we all have problems you need to fix. But that isn’t how this works. Backbiting never healed a wound, never fixed a problem.

If you could listen and not repeat.

If you could take the good with the bad and respect the journey we are each on.

Then you could get to know me. Then I could let you in and share my story with you.

But not until then. Not as long as I hear the words you say about others behind their back. Not as long as perfection is the standard and every fault is dissected.

No, not yet. Maybe not ever.

It is up to you, Dear One, to decide if others can ever let you in.

Letter to a Younger Me

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Dear 16 Year Old Kari,

This is 26 year old Kari—don’t freak out.

It’s been ten years. A lot has happened.

Like…

You finished high school. High five.

You went to and graduated from college. You started as a journalism major and finished with a degree in counseling because you didn’t like other people telling you how to write.

You are still paying for college 😦

You got married and you married well.

{This is your husband. He is hot. I can not describe to you how much you will love him}

You moved across the country to Massachusetts.

You’ve moved three times in Massachusetts and you’re not done yet.

You don’t have kids. They still scare you. But you finally got a cat…and sometimes she scares you too.

You colored your hair. Can you believe that? Me either.

You have to wear contacts because you see like an 80 year old woman without them. You had glasses but you lost them somewhere between Massachusetts and Missouri. The glasses were pink. You chose them from the children’s section (even though you were in your 20s) so it’s probably best that they got lost somewhere between here and there.

You don’t cry anymore. You will find it doesn’t help and one day, you’ll just stop.

There will be this thing called Facebook. You will join somewhere around your junior year of college.

In college a fellow journalism major will ask you what a “blog” is. You won’t know.

You will write a blog.

You will grow more confident about some things, more insecure about others. Security will be a life-long journey.

You still hate fish. I hope you always hate fish.

There will be little tiny phones called “cell phones.” People will walk around typing little tiny emails into their cell Phones—this is called “texting.”

You know that ghetto coffee shop called “Dunkin’ Donuts”? Embrace. Soon you will be best friends.

You will work at an aerospace company. I know, I can’t believe it either.

You will gain weight. Lay off on the Twinkies now doll.

You will always love taking pictures but  you won’t need film anymore.

You will tutor in math. Stop laughing. No, keep laughing because you will hate every second of it and laughing is the only thing that will get you through.

Indiana Jones is still hot.

For one year you will live in the cutest down town apartment with brick walls and wood floors. You will feel like a bird in a tree house and love every second of it.

Max Factor is going to go out of business so buy mascara like it’s the apocalypse baby.

Video stores are going to go out of business too but they will have this thing called “Netflix.”

You know that song by OneRepublic Chris made you listen to? Pay attention; they will become your favorite group.

You will find the world is much bigger than you think and you are wrong about many things.

You will have to say you’re sorry many times.

You will learn to say “I love you” but it will take much longer than you think.

If I could go back I would tell you:

Sleep now. Like, a lot.

Listen more. Talk less.

Breathe in the fresh country air; it will be hard to come by later.

You will get knocked down. You will get hurt. You will feel stupid and ugly. You will get back up.

You are not stupid or ugly.

Those guys you hope will notice you? They aren’t all you think they are. You are fine by yourself and there is a much better guy waiting for you.

You will never stop being afraid you will just learn to push through the fear to accomplish your dreams.

Don’t study so hard in college. Make time for people and build friendships. People will matter long after grades have been forgotten.

Don’t be so sarcastic all the time.

Don’t try to forget where you’re from. Your roots are important and you could never be who you are without them.

In some ways you will be very different. In some ways you will be exactly the same; this is the nature of growing up.

Life is not easy. People are mean. Not all of your dreams will come true.

But

Even though life will not turn out at all as you imagine, it will be fine.

You will be fine.

You will be just fine.

Love,

Your old wrinkled self

{26 Year Old Kari}

P.S. The world is supposed to end this year. I’ll write you in another 10 years and let you know how that goes down.

{Fall} My Personal New Year

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{A hike up Peeked Mountain, Monson Massachusetts 2009}

Yesterday we officially slipped into fall. I love everything about this time of year. I love boots and scarves and warm cozy jackets. I love hot drinks and hardy soups, crackling fires and cobalt skies. I love snuggling up on Sunday afternoons watching football and sipping a hot pumpkin latte every morning on the way to work.

{New Hampshire Pumpkin Fest 2009}

There is something about this time of year that always makes me reflective. The air is cooler, the days are getting shorter, and the whole world feels like it’s wrapping up in a warm, cozy blanket.

{The Height of the Land, Maine 2011}

Every day I notice how many more leaves blush in crimson or show off in gold. I watch them fall to the ground, one by one today, ten by ten tomorrow, and I think about how quickly the warmth and reflection of this season will pass us by. Soon enough we will be watching the snow flakes fall rather than the leaves.

I used to dread the transition from fall into winter. I used to think of winter as the end when everything is dead and over and there is nothing left to enjoy. But after long busy summers, I’ve started looking forward to the quiet days of winter. Instead of thinking of winter as the end, I see it now as a time of rest. The snow I once used to dread is now a welcome reprieve if it means life will slow down and leave us with nowhere to go for a while.

{Maine 2010}

I have learned to love this rhythm of the seasons. The leaves fall and we drift into winter. The snow flakes fly and we gather around warm cracking fires. Soon enough winter melts into spring and new life buds and blooms all around us. We soak up the summer sun until the leaves fall again and the world goes to sleep once more. The ebb and flow of the seasons is the quiet beating of the earth’s heart…tick, tock, tick, tock.

{A warm cozy fire to chase away the chill}

Today I sit by the open window with the cool breeze blowing in. I bid farewell to the hot days of summer and embrace the cool days of fall and winter. I reflect on the year gone by and plan for the year to come. I don’t cry over what we lose with the end of a season; I embrace what we gain with the next…with the ebb and flow of life…with the rhythm of the seasons and the tick tock of the earth spinning round and round through the seasons of life.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace

…

He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 & 11

May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor

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Darren and I went to Maine this weekend and came home with a little baby kitten. I’m not an animal person. I’m also not a committment person. I like being able to pick up and take off whenever I want to <————————– and that is the number one reason why I don’t have kids. True story.

Anyway, if I’m not an animal person, I’m really not a cat person. I would much rather have a big fluffy German Shepherd or a cuddly little Chocolate Lab. But as it turns out, Darren and I are both softies and this particular little kitten had a sob story. Mamma cat had too many baby cats and by the time this baby cat got here, mamma cat was done feeding and taking care of kittens. This kitten was the only one of her litter to survive and was starving. Darren’s aunt and uncle starting feeding the kitten and taking care of her but they needed to find a permanent home. We listened to the above sob story and took the bait like the suckers that we are.

So now we’re animal people—even better—we’re cat people because we’re a couple of sob story suckers who can’t let a neglected little kitten without a mother go without a loving family :]

Darren wanted to name her Cleopatra. He wants to name everything Cleopatra. It kind of creeps me out. If Cleopatra didn’t die a thousand years ago, I might even be jealous.

I wanted to name her Poppy. I want to name everything Poppy including one of our children. Darren won’t let me. Sigh.

Then Darren mentioned the name Katniss and there was no going back. If you’ve read The Hunger Games or seen the movie then you know exactly where we got the name; if you haven’t, well then read the book and “may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Darren loves The Hunger Games so much I’m a little concerned our children are going to end up with names live Everdeen and Primrose. When Darren found out I never finished reading the book I thought he might divorce me…jeez man, it’s just a story…and if I didn’t have you to take care of then I would probably have more time to finish reading it ;]

Anyway, Katniss has the word “Kat” in it so Darren thought he was very clever. Not to mention Katniss in the book also had a neglectful mother and was starving, so I think Darren is very clever too :]

So, here is little miss sob story Katniss—orange and white stripped trouble maker that she is.

{Lately} Feathering Our Nest

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Here’s the pictures I promised of my projects around the house. I’ve been working on our bedroom and building a cozy little nook in the guest bedroom. The thing I kept in mind as I worked away was “warmth and light.” I wanted our home to feel feathered and cozy—especially as we go into the colder months.

{Guest bedroom nook}

I kind of love forts and nests and cozy little corners where you can snuggle up and hide away. Watching Darren gave me the idea for this nook. When it’s cold he snuggles up on the floor with his back against the baseboard heater.

You know what he’s doing in that corner? He’s freezing to death. And yes, he’s wearing his coat…in the house…next to the heater. So, to keep the man warm and give him a better spot to read than the hardwood floor, I decided to build a cozy spot with fat pillows and soft blankets next to the heater in the guest bedroom.

The guest bedroom is the perfect place to snuggle up because it is flooded with natural light. In the winter we go in there, close the door, turn on the heater, and chill. The room is tiny so the heater works fast (unlike the rest of our cold little house). We spend a good part of the winter in there and now we have an even better spot to snuggle up with books and movies.

{Bright happy quilt on the guest bed}

This puffy little blanket is on the floor in the nook. I’ve had it since I was 18. My sister-in-law, Rachel, gave it to me as a high school graduation gift and I carted it off to college with me in South Carolina. I still remember I was sitting on it in my bunk bed there in the dorms when Darren called me for the first time. He introduced himself and asked me out all in that first phone call. I had no idea who he was…but I liked his deep voice and agreed to meet him :] This little blanket went back to school with me every year. It was mine and Darren’s first blanket after we were married and still sleeping on a futon mattress on the bedroom floor. It goes camping with us up in Vermont every summer and keeps us warm and cozy through the cold nights spent in a tent under the stars. The rest of the time it lives on the guest bed. Until now—now it’s the cushy bottom to my happy little nook. Good job Rachel—that little blanket is one of the best gifts I’ve been given :]

We also did a lot of work on our bedroom. We painted, replaced the carpet, and bought curtains, lamps, and a duvet.

{I just adore these curtains. I love the pattern and the way they filter in the morning sunlight}

{Our duvet…it’s covered in words…imagine that}

{I love the soft, warm light a lamp casts across a room}

So, that’s what I’ve been doing. Now I’m going to go cozy up in my happy little nook :]

{Bam. The End}

Moments in Time

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I spent Labor Day weekend up in Maine with Darren’s family. My brother and sister-in-law, their two little boys, and Darren and I decided to go for a walk through the woods and pastures. The hot sun was showing off its power for the last days of summer but as soon as we ducked into the woods under the canopy of trees, the heat broke and the cool Maine air gave us hope of fall coming soon enough.

I love the woods.

I felt like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia—welcomed by a whole world of sights and sounds just beyond us as we live our lives among cities and highways. How can the woods be so quiet even as they bubble over with the sound of bird’s song, crickets, streams, and the rustle of leaves? How can they smell so good? The sod mingles with the moss, wild flowers, and evergreens filling the air with a sweet, earthy aroma. The light filters through the leaves and everything feels soft and hushed, calm and quiet.

It makes me happy :]

We walked the muddy path hopping around to avoid puddles, crossed the broken little bridge over the stream, balanced along a fallen tree, and popped out of the woods into the open pasture drenched in sunshine. I told my sister-in-law that between the shadowy woods and pasture covered in wild flowers, I felt like we were in Twilight together…only we’re not vampires and we’re not in love…because that would be weird.

We all trekked across the pasture together through the knee-high prairie grass and milk weed. The boys took off in search of blueberries. The sun was hot and I didn’t feel like trekking anymore. Maya and I sat in the grass talking.

I sat there thinking that I would probably remember this simple moment forever.

It was just an ordinary day. Just a walk in the woods. But it was all so magical. The blue mountain peaks sticking up behind the trees. The smell of evergreens. The grass up over our heads as we sat talking. The yellow wild flowers drenched in the yellow sunshine as far as we could see.

It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once.

Maya and I noticed we had settled right next to a big fat yellow and black garden spider and we were very pleased with our bravery for sitting there beside him, letting him listen in on our conversation, without panicking or running for our lives…that’s what I usually do around spiders…panic. kill. run for life.

The boys came back without any berries and I was a little sad they didn’t take longer; I was enjoying that moment…sitting in the grass over my head, talking with Maya and taking in the magic of the wild Maine mountain side.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said to “Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, drink the wild air.” I think he was on to something, that Emerson.

{Darren is always getting into trouble with the littles…I love him for that}

{The End}

A Change of Heart and Mind

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The other day I looked around the house and realized the whole place was going to hell in a hand basket.

It all started when I got a new fall jacket. Now this was no ordinary jacket, kids. It was a jacket I had fallen in love with at first sight but couldn’t bring myself to spend the money on. Then it went on sale…and I still couldn’t bring myself to spend the money on it. Then it sold out and I was sad I hadn’t spent the money on it.

I ended up ordering a couple other things from the same store and when I went to check out online I noticed my beloved jacket was still sitting in the shopping cart where I had put it back when I was thinking and dreaming about buying it. Not only was it still in the cart but it was even cheaper than the original markdown. I double checked the website to see if it was still available and it still said it was sold out. I decided to check out with it in my shopping cart and see if the order would go through. And it did. And my sweet little jacket came in the mail a few days later. I might have danced around the kitchen for a few minutes. And then I had to find a home for it. The coat closet was the obvious choice but the coat closet…oh my gosh the coat closet….was such a mess all packed full of nonsense and I didn’t think it was a suitable place to put my sweet little jacket.

So, I decided to clean out the closet and make a nice cozy spot for the jacket. Who knew what cleaning a coat closet would start around here.

This is what was living in our teeny, tiny closet. Furniture, car parts, the Christmas decorations from last year I never quite put away, and ten million other coats and jackets (hey, we live in New England—don’t judge me). I pulled everything out onto the living room floor and reorganized the whole thing. I found a place for everything and only stuff that actually belonged in the coat closet went back in.

{Forgive the blurriness—my camera hates me}

I felt so refreshed and satisfied after that little project. It felt good to conquer a mess I had been avoiding and regain some control over this place.

And then I started looking around.

And I started noticing junk drawers that wouldn’t open or close right because they were too full of junk. I noticed cob webs because I never dust. I noticed how I can’t ever find anything because it’s buried in the basement or under one of the beds. I noticed a lot of things around here needing work—and in the process of cleaning all those things up, I noticed something else far more important.

I noticed that the reason this place is an unorganized disaster is because I never really settled in here and made this place home. We bought this house a couple of years ago with the intention of only staying for three years. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t bother settling in if I know I’m going to move back out. I figure it’s a waste of time to put roots down and get attached if I’m just going to have to leave anyway. So as soon as I heard “three years” I stuffed everything anywhere it would go and kept telling myself that I would do a better job making a home once we got to the place we’re going to stay.

But then I realized when I started going through things and getting this place organized that I’ve never really lived here. I’ve never really considered this little box with four walls a home. I’ve just been treading water and counting the days and minutes until I can get out of here and get on with life. And then, I told myself, then I’ll settle in and really start living in a place.

But the problem is this is where I live—right now, today, this is my home. And it may be my home longer than I like. Our three-year mark is next March and we have nowhere to go as of yet. So the odds are I’ll still be here even after we had planned on moving out. I realized I’ve been wasting time and not really living just because I’ve already moved out of here in my head (actually, I never really even moved in). I’ve lived here for 2 1/2 years and I’ve never settled in and made this place home.

It’s funny how you clean a coat closet and you realize you need to work on a million other things around the house, and while you’re working on those things you realize you need to work on more than just the house, and while you work on that you realize there’s more to this whole “not settling in” problem than just making a house a home.

I realized along the way that there are a lot of things in life I haven’t really embraced because I don’t plan on doing them long-term. My job for instance. I’ve always known my job is temporary. I know I want to raise a family and when I do I want to stay home with them. There has never been any question in my mind that this is my long-term plan. That’s great…only I don’t have kids and I am working….and I’ve been working for years. But I’ve never really given 100% at work or fully committed to what’s before me because, again, in the back of my head I tell myself, “oh this is just temporary so who really cares.” I show up for work every day and do my job. And that is all. I come home from work and make dinner and keep this place clean. And that is all. I just do what I have to do to get by until I get to where I’m going.

Only where I am is part of where I’m going.

And I see now that just getting by until the next thing is not a very good way to live. It has made me pretty miserable actually. I’m miserable in this house because I don’t want to be here. I’m miserable at work because I don’t want to be there either. You put those two together and it equals me being miserable 90% of the time.

Because I’m just getting by until things get better.

But my life is today, not tomorrow—not yet at least. If I don’t start living in the present then I’m going to look back and realize I’ve let my whole life pass me by in my anticipation of the next best thing.

With all this in mind, I decided it was time to really settle into our home and my job. I’ve been working on getting the house cleaned up and organized. I’ve cleaned out junk drawers, under beds, in closets, and everywhere in between. The more I do the more I realize needs to be done.

I’ve also been getting the house feathered and cozied up. Darren and I finally tackled our bedroom. We painted the walls, replaced the carpet, and bought lamps, curtains, and a duvet. It’s so warm and cozy in there now. I’ve also been working on creating a cozy little nook in the guest bedroom where we can snuggle up to read and write. I’ll show you pictures of all these projects when they’re done and I have time to snap pictures.

In order to finance all the work I’ve been doing around the house and to help me jump into work wholeheartedly, I’ve started working more hours each week. I’m full-time again for the first time in a long time and I’m actually enjoying my work more than ever. Of course working extra hours and using all my free minutes at home to tackle project has meant less time on here—but that has been good for me too.

Being on the computer too much makes me restless and unhappy. You can only spend so much time reading about other people’s lives and looking at pretty pictures of things you want before it leaves you discontent and unsatisfied. Getting this place pulled together has meant walking a fine line between getting a few new things to make this house feel more like a home and letting myself get obsessed with new things just for the sake of having them.

I really struggle with materialism. I struggle with always wanting more, more more. More clothes, more things for the house, more, more, more. But more things won’t make me happy. There is nothing wrong with having nice stuff, but “stuff” shouldn’t be the most important thing to me either. So now that we’ve completed some projects around here and this place is starting to feel like home, I’m taking a break from buying anything else for the house until after the New Year. There is plenty more I want to do. I have lots of plans and ideas and a whole list of things I would like to get but I need to step back from it all for a bit and just enjoy what we already have and what we’ve just done. If I immediately move onto the next thing then I’ll never stop and really enjoy what we already have. I have a cozy bedroom and a cozy little nook and for now those are the things I need to step back and enjoy before I move onto another new project.

Anyway, That’s what I’m learning and doing of late. Our days have been filled with crisp blue skies and sunshine brought on by the cooler nights. Fall is teasing us and here on the last day of August, I’m ready to jump into September and fall and all the new life and adventures that come with my favorite season of all. Football is starting, lattes are coming back, and the whole world  feels like it’s wrapping up in a cozy little blanket after a hot busy summer. I couldn’t be happier.

Summer Days and Life Lessons

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Earlier this week Darren and I went to the beach with our friends, Victor and Olga. V and O are in love with a beach in Rhode Island that Darren and I had never seen. So we all loaded in our cars and took of to see this spot we’ve heard so much about. A few minutes out from the beach we parked and climbed into Victor’s boat for the rest of the trip out to their spot.

I’m so glad they decided to share this place with us because it’s honestly the prettiest beach front I’ve seen in New England. I was completely mesmerized the whole day. As soon as we were on shore, I was busy walking along the water gathering shells and rocks and I even found a crab claw I plan on terrorizing Darren with.

{Such a happy couple}

{Earthy treasures from the sea}

There was bright green sea weed floating around and lots of the rocks had taken on the same lime green color—so of course I filled my pockets with them to haul back home and scatter around my house. Every time we go to the beach I look for little earthy treasures to take home and decorate with. My living room is filled with mason jars full of sand and shells from all over. There’s also a whole birch tree in my living room, because yes, I drag those indoors too :]

{I drug the tree in the house by myself and cut it in half on the kitchen floor with a hack saw…wahaha}

Darren sometimes forbids me from bringing any more nature indoors and I always smile like I’m listening and fill my pockets anyway. I think he doesn’t mind in the end because he’s always showing off our jars of sea treasure when we have company and telling everyone about the adventures that went along with each bit of nature we’ve brought back home.

Once we unloaded all our stuff from the boat and settled in on the beach, the boys decided to take the boat back out on the ocean exploring. Olga and I opted for staying on the beach with the kids and away from the wild ocean waves—we know too well by now how those boys like to drive the boat like it’s a water rocket.

{The boys}

The kids took off for the sand and waves and were quickly busy digging holes and building sand castles by the sea.

{The kids + Victor digging in the sand}

Victor and Olga are Russian. They have three children; the oldest is in school and speaks English perfectly. Their daughter hasn’t started school yet and only speaks Russian. And then there’s the baby who speaks, well, baby. They also have a little boy from the Ukraine staying with them for the summer and he only speaks Ukrainian. So there were three children playing together prattling off in three different languages and yet they understood each other perfectly. Childhood is simply a language all its own.

{All the world is magic when you are five years old}

Olga and I settled into camping chairs in the sand with our legs and arms stretched out hoping for a kiss from the sun.

Just me and Olga.

Olga scares me a little bit because she’s very pretty and put together. She always wears nice clothes and has her hair done. She even smells good…how ridiculous is that? I always walk away from my time with her feeling like a frump and loser who needs to get her life together. It’s not Olga’s fault I feel this way either. She’s very nice and doesn’t do anything to make me feel bad. It’s my own jealousy and insecurity that leaves me feeling this way and not anything she needs to change. I share this because I knew going into our little beach trip that I wouldn’t have any fun if I let my feelings about O intimidate me. I decided this time I wanted things to be different. I wanted to relax and give O a chance instead of putting her in a little box of perfection she may not herself want to be in.

On the boat ride over to the beach I kept glancing over at her. She looked lovely. Her outfit was cute. Her hair wasn’t attacking her in the wind like mine was. I wanted to push her off the boat. No I didn’t…well, I sort of did :] But I decided I was going to do my best to open up and get to know her better that day. Usually I clam up and try to play it cool so she won’t figure out how not together my life is. But I knew I was being fake and frivolous and it was time to get past fear and insecurity. So after the boys left we started chatting…just our usual small talk at first. But then I started asking her questions and she asked me questions too. I thought I would be miserable trying to talk to her and open up but before I knew it the sun was dipping behind the sandy hills and were wrapping up in sweaters to stay warm. Olga told me about her life. She told me about some of the things that are bothering her and things that aren’t going right. She would stop sometimes, struggling to think of a word in English or how to communicate an idea from Russian to English. She told me I’m the only person she ever really speaks to in English and she feels silly when she can’t think of a word. I couldn’t believe Olga ever felt silly in front of me. I told her I forget words in English too and it’s the only language I speak :]

{Beautiful Olga}

I learned a lot about O that day and I learned a lot about myself too. I learned that as perfect as Olga looks and seems, she is a girl just like me. A girl with a heart that can be broken, feelings that get hurt, and fears that follow her just like me. I learned that I don’t need to try to be like Olga to have my life put together. I just need to be who I am, as imperfect as that may be. If I wear things because Olga wears them or say things because Olga says them, I’m not more like her, I’m just less like me. I cheat myself by thinking imitation will bring me any closer to who I should be. The truth is, Olga and I are very different people. We grew up in different countries and even in America, take part in very different cultures. She is six years older than me and the mother of three children. We are in very different places in life. How can I expect to know and be all that she is when we are so different in the very fibers that make us who we are? I realized that day, as we snacked on fresh fruit and treats from the Russian grocer, that my fears and insecurities are just that—fear and insecurity. There is nothing wrong with me and there is nothing unattainable about Olga; we are just different people. I’m glad I gave O a chance because I left the beach that day with a great sense of peace and confidence. Instead of feeling unattractive and inadequate, I left feeling inspired. Inspired to be the person I’m meant to be. Inspired to learn from the things I admire in Olga, not to merely mimic them. Inspired to grow and change…into myself, not into someone else.

{This is who I am, no one else}

The boys came back with the last rays of light and soon we were all marching off to get ice cream together. We sat on a wall with our ice cream watching the boats bobble on the water. There was a cannon like BOOM and people screamed; I laughed. Laughter is a nervous reaction for me. I have a feeling when the ol’ apocalypse gets here I’ll be laying on the ground giggling while everyone else runs for their lives. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism :] Victor said they do that BOOM to let everyone know it’s sunset. Olga joked about how we should probably know it’s sunset without a cannon going off and we all laughed. Of course she’s funny too…maybe I’ll push her off the boat on the way back home :]

It was a lovely day of sand and sunshine…and a life lesson or two as well. I’m thankful.

We left after dark. The black water looked like pools of ink as we glided over it. I wanted to dip my quill in it and write you a story, this story.