An Exercise in Writing

I've been a bratty "writer."  And by that, I mean, I love writing, I do it when I'm inspired, sometimes I'm inspired when I don't have access to a computer or even paper, so I "write" in my head, but then it gets lost in my mental cosmos.  But as far as "practicing" I've operated under a bratty opinion of, "I'm only going to write if I'm inspired...otherwise it's so contrived."

Super bratty, but I'm hungry for, and willing to, change.

Except I've been thinking about such a mentality for the last year or so and realized something.  When you practice something, you often get better at it.  Take, for example, swimming.  I started out as a toddler on the side of the pool, only dipping my toes, telling my mom I didn't want to go in the water. We moved to Arizona when I was 6 and were enrolled in swim lessons right away since a pool is mostly standard issue in every backyard, and if not, for sure in every neighborhood.  My first swim class was for "Minnows", aka, little swimmers...beginners getting comfortable with the water.  I know at some point I became a "Shark" and then in time I was on a team, gathering 5th and 6th place ribbons, then 4th and 3rd, then years later State Titles with teammates in High School.

We practiced every day after school from mid-August to the end of November, from 2:30 to 5:00.

A lot of hours, a lot of practice.  Some of it redundant, but building strength and endurance, perseverance, and in some races, excellence.

So, I'm trying to apply the same mentality to writing.  Because I really like writing.  Mucho.  So, recently when I saw on Twitter a post by Lisa-Jo Baker about a writing exercise group link she does on Friday's with readers, I was intrigued.  It's called, "Five Minute Friday," and she gives a prompt, you set your timer, and then write.  And write.  And write until the timer goes off, and then, you stop.  So, I've never done it before, but I'm starting it now.  Like, right now.  And the prompt is:  She.

GO:

She.

She is your mom.  She is your sister.  She is your daughter.  She is your aunt, cousin, grandmother, friend.  Her strength is astounding.  Her smile strengthening, lighting up a room, filling hearts, bringing life and love wherever it's revealed.

There are days when her smile is hidden.  She doesn't realize the power behind its revelation, she is unaware of the life it offers, she doesn't know because it has been darkened, the lines diminished from years of sorrow.  Life unraveling.

We look at her and long for the smile to return to her face.  She has aged, but the lines in her face aren't from laughter but longing.  Worry, wonder, despair, a broken heart.  The lines are deep and they draw her smile, the beauty that was once alive on her face, the lines draw them down.

Look up!  Look around you!  See the sea of faces looking back at you.  These are the faces of family and friends, and we love you.  We are so sorry for the hurts in your heart, the aches you've hidden deep, the memories fresh even though ancient.  We love you and want you to know your sheer existence, the fact that you are here, now, in this space, brings love and hope to us.

Let those lines run deep, not from sorrow, but because of laughter, laughter of days to come, joy in the unknown

STOP.

Wow.  That was a cool exercise.  I practiced writing.  It was kind of crazy to see what came to mind.  I think I'll practice this exercise every Friday.  It only takes 5 minutes, so it's not like I can say I don't have time to write.

If you care to join in the practice, here's the information.  You may leave your writing in the comments section or link your blog post in the linky section (I've never done a "linky" so hopefully it's easy and I can figure it out...), then head to the blogger's site who posted prior to you and read their piece and encourage them.

Have a great weekend! 

More "Lessons from Spain"

I tell you what…if finding out I was pregnant after a trip to Spain was a way to learn things such as, the sky is the limit, throw caution to the wind, live life to the fullest, OR, say, the opposite, like, be careful, look both ways when crossing the street, always bring an umbrella, well, then the last week has been good for me, in a hellish sort of way.

The age I would be at time of delivery. (Graffiti in Barcelona)

And by “good for me” I mean, “Holy Ship My Pants, Batman!”  Please know, I don’t mean this disrespectfully.  I know, KNOW, know many women who have longed to be mama’s in their life time’s…some never experiencing it, others having only gotten to treasure it for a short time, some never getting to hear their sweet babies cry, or meeting their child face to face.  I, too, have had 2 miscarriages and lost a yummy sweet boy sooner than I ever imagined possible.  I am not discounting these longings, whatsoever.

Translation:  Do not let your dog ship its pants here in this public space.

But I won’t lie when I tell you that for the last few days I have had irregular breathing patterns thinking about the “what if’s” if I were, indeed, pregnant.  And I won’t lie.  Those days were dark in my head and heart. 

Last night as I fell into bed I told my husband I didn’t even need to lower myself down, I simply collapsed under my own body weight.  Still not having shed all my “Viva Espana” weight, then getting PMS like nobody’s business (I NEVER have it, NEVER, no cramps, no tenderness, nada), I was sure we were in for a surprise, and not like, “Ooooh, awesome!”, but more like, “Holy Ship My Pants-ness, Ryan’s going to be a big brother?! #$%^&*.”

I named off two friends I’d consider giving our baby to, since they are looking to adopt.  My heart was heaving and not thrilled at the thought…at all. 

What can I say?  Yes, I celebrate and love children, but these are the real thoughts that went through my head and heart.  I’m sure you’ve never thought this.  Clearly, I suck more than you.

Before I drifted off, however, I told Jason, “If it’s a girl, I’m naming her Georgie.”

This morning I looked at my calendar, counted days, tried to remember what I was thinking or if I had been thinking and, HOLY SHIP MY PANTS, were we even thinking?  I rolled out of bed, pulled up my bootstraps, and actually smiled at the new found peace that had settled into my heart over night. 

“Georgie…totally.  We’ll name her Georgie, and maybe her middle name will be Madrid or Barcelona.” 

I headed into what is usually one of my favorite days of the week:  LAAAAAAA!  Thursday.  My day.  A day where Ryan hangs with our fabulous babysitter and I head to the library, word-nerd heaven, where I sit amongst books and thoughts and dreams to read and write and enjoy the quiet.

First stop, the coffee shop for something with almond milk, “to-go”.  Second stop before setting up my portable office at the library:  the ladies room.

(The following is a text conversation)

A:  “You’re lucky…”

J:  “That made me laugh.”

A:  “I’m glad my bleeding uterus is funny to you. I almost shipped my pants with worry!”

A:  “But, the name Georgie for a little girl IS fabulous!”

A:  “Maybe it’ll be my pen name…hmmm, yes!”

J:  “Your pen name should be Georgie or Bleeding Uterus?”

A:  “Probably Bleeding Uterus.  It’s raw, catchy, authentic…”

I’m not sure I’ll use “Georgie” or “Bleeding Uterus” or something else entirely as a pen name, but I do know this:  I will always write vulnerably and with authenticity, because this particular lesson from Spain is:  life doesn’t always turn out as we plan, but I already know from experience, it can be more beautiful than we ever imagined.

*And, a couple bonus “Lessons from Spain:” menses symptoms are greatly affected by how clean one eats.  It was a reminder, and a heck of a way to re-learn this, but my body tells me things and I need to listen.  Moderation.  And, make that appointment...

Foods that contribute to monthly bloating, mood swings, and cramps: amazing churros from Barcelona

A picture my husband said I'd never post since it's not flattering...I don't know what's not flattering about eating an entire crab by yourself, soaked in butter, but arrrrrr, I love crab!  Living it up, eating without regrets/symptoms in Espana.

Laguardia, Espana, aka, Wine Country, being kissed by my prince on top of a castle...*alcohol, another contributor to monthly swings.

More on the food tour: constipation and bloating,  I mean ice cream and molten chocolate cake with some sort of awesomeness on the side... 

Reminder, Adrienne:  you feel healthy when you eat healthily

So, no.  There is no Georgie Madrid Graves on the way.  The only baby we brought home from Spain is this Spanish Mater.  #vivaespana

Lessons from Spain: Beauty is Freedom

...and Freedom is Beautiful.

When I recommend articles on Facebook or Twitter or here on my blog, due to the nature of life and the Internet, I don't always know the author personally, may not know their tone of voice in writing or if I'd even invite them to dinner...but a nugget here or truth there stands out to me, I take the good, throw out the bad, and move on with it...it's the middle-child peacemaker in me, likely.  I've never agreed with someone totally and completely on everything.  Have you?

But, all that to say, writer's write, myself included, to start conversations, therefore I'm glad for the opportunity to discuss, regardless of whether we agree or not.

So, last week, when a mom I'd never heard of wrote an article and a friend on FB posted it, I read it, took away a few nuggets like: what a great idea to share social media time as a family and we all should discern what we share/post, whether we're teenage girls or grown men or SAHM's or singles or marrieds, for self-respect sake.

Did she specifically say this?  No.  She had a different agenda which I did not take away.  She directed her post to teenage girls, and I'm not one, nor do I have one yet, and so I read it, got the overall gist of what I wanted to take away, re posted it, and then went back to folding laundry and randomly spray painting things around the house...like these...

Anyway...

A friend was concerned about the post I re posted, so we dialogued a bit, I headed back to the post, re-read it, headed to the comments section of the blog, saw it had gone sour and that she was being eaten alive, some of it valid, other points out in left field, and wished I had posted what I had learned in Spain about all this two weeks ago when I got back.

You see, Europeans wear whatever they want.  300 lb women wear bikinis.  Hairy men wear Speedos.  65 year old women only wear bikini bottoms.  Little kids don't match and at the beach, clothing is totally optional when you are pint-sized.  On the streets, in the cafes, strolling through plazas and parks, European women wear clothes they think are pretty, regardless of size or coverage.

Seriously, there's only one sized bikini in Europe, and every sized woman wears it....

And guess what?  They all were beautiful!  I speak Spanish fluently and never once overheard a discussion on whether another person's beach attire was modest or immodest, whether they were causing another to stumble, if the exclusive, judgmental opinions of American Evangelicals mattered to them as they enjoyed a day at the beach with their family and friends on the other side of the world with their tops off.

Instead, I witnessed freedom and beauty and laughter and living.

People were not humping in the streets just because some epidermis was visual.  On the beach, every third woman had her bikini top off, and looking around, as men, women, and children were soaking in the sun, playing volleyball, reading books, swimming and chatting, some smooching under their umbrellas, I didn't see one erection.

Can you even believe it?

Gasp.

That's right.  I looked around for erections...because being a SAHWMFTB (Stay At Home White Mom From The Burbs) and a Christian one at that, I just was curious, because from all the talk in Evangelical culture, every man on that beach should have had a hard-on, but they didn't.

Nope.  Europeans just seem a heck of a lot more comfortable in their bodies...and with everyone else's bodies, too.  Men and women.  Kids, too.

All shapes.  All sizes.  All beautiful.  So very beautiful!

My British girlfriend told me that when Jason and I went to Spain I needed to go to a nude beach.  She said I needed to experience the freedom in all my glory, the "outfit" God made me originally.  It's funny how in America, "nude beaches" are destinations.  In Europe, they are just beaches...where you get tan...and have a picnic...and take a nap.

We never did find the "nude" beach, but all the same, Europeans don't delineate which grain of sand is which and where they can take off their tops or bottoms.  They just sunbathe.  In their skin...in the bodies God placed their hearts and souls and minds in to carry them through the life He breathed into them when He made them and thought they'd be an awesome addition to life on Earth, here and now, a display of His creativity, to commune and have relationships with all the other skin-covered people.

Tonight another friend posted this on my FB page.  I loved it!  Loved the message, the response, thought it was well thought out and well written.  Would I have coffee with her?  Totally, because she gets me...I mean, Ryan rubs his boogers on our couch, DAILY, so her sticky furniture would feel like home to me. In particular, I loved this paragraph:

"We see you, sweetheart. We do. We see what you’re writing. We see what you’re posting. 

We see more of you than you think we do. We see sometimes down to the very center of your soul. 

And what you need to know is this: You are beautiful. You are valuable. You are worthy. 

You are your physical body, and you are so very much more. And you, baby girl, 

have infinite chances for grace and redemption and relationship and community 

and wholeness and LOVE. 

Always. Always and forever. Amen." - Beth Woolsey at http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/

Anyway, IMO, Americans are being unnaturally influenced and inundated by hyper-sensitive "Christians" who are speaking on "every one's" behalf without my permission on the topic of beauty and sex and modesty and so much more.  This is maddening and I have some opinions on this...

But for now, until we understand, honor, and cherish the part that we are all totally freaking awesomeness embodied in all shapes and sizes, we've missed it.  Here's an awesome article on that...

Modesty isn't a uniform and "modesty" itself doesn't make you beautiful.  But that's what much of the "discussion" is asserting.

I've spent some time on the foreign mission field.  I've spent years mentoring women.  Recently I've spent a bit of time with very broken and bruised women over drinks in bars.  In those times when heart to heart conversations were taking place, I can honestly say I don't remember what they were wearing or if it was modest or not, just that I was there to listen and they felt safe to pour their heart into mine.

Nope.  Freedom in knowing we are loved by God is what makes us all beautiful.  And how can "blocking" people from our lives be an avenue to demonstrate God's love?

Yeah, I thought I was just going to Spain to celebrate 20 years of marriage with the love of my life.  In addition to that expectation, I learned more in 2 weeks than I have in 41 years about loving myself.  I learned a lot about beauty and sexuality and freedom and comfort with my own body and even how to love you better.

...I learned that beauty is freedom and freedom is beautiful.

 I should go to Spain more often...seriously.

The beach in Barcelona where I found freedom.

*I'd love to continue the conversation if the focus of modesty lies not with what we wear or don't wear, but rather valuing every single person with whom we come in contact.  Once we begin to cherish and honor tangible people as awesome hand-crafted pieces of art shaped by the hand of God, then I think we'll be onto something...however, if one-piece bathing suits and a 3-inch wide tank top on our daughters shoulders is your idea of a "teaching" on modesty, count me out.

Lessons from Spain: Life is a Celebration

One might think all the planning which may go into a two week, second honeymoon, 20th wedding anniversary vacation would solely entail where to eat, play, and relax.  And truly, one would be correct in such thinking.  Sure, "What should I wear?" directed some of the planning, a little more than necessary and looking back I would have taken the smaller suitcase, but, I didn't, and thus had plenty to wear.  But as far as the eating, playing, and relaxing, Trip Advisor was our BFF, as well as just wandering the streets, figuring it out on our own.

But now that I've gone to Spain, played hard for 2 weeks, which I liken to the Israelites feasting and celebrating certain ceremonies, then needing to get back to life and reality, pulling in the belt a bit, there are many lessons I learned looking back on our time.  All this to say, I never really expected our time in Spain, our getaway, our escape from reality and celebration of friendship and true love, to teach me anything.

I was wrong.

Who knew it would be educational?

And it would be tragic if I did not share these lessons with you, whomever may care to read, especially because I had intended to blog from Spain but never did, though in my head I blogged quite a bit, and so, whether you read and learn and take away nuggets or not, I must write these here for myself to look at again and remind myself of what living a life of intention looks like, 8 hours east of here on another continent.

This lesson of freedom will likely turn into many posts as the Spaniards are a free-spirited people.  It's a theme which carries into much of life, however, keep in mind, my perspective is only from a woman on vacation free from all responsibilities at home, so you must read through my rose-tinted glasses.

We arrived in Barcelona at 7:30 am after a stellar layover in Toronto where my husband introduced me to the schmancy United Club.  SAHM had never been in a United Club, eh-ver.

Back up a sec.  As I entered the plane to Barceleona, I was SO excited, likely from sleep deprivation since we left Denver at the crack of dawn before Jesus and the sun rose...so, as I entered, I couldn't contain myself and I squealed to the flight attendant, "WE'RE GOING TO SPAIN!!!!  It's our 20th wedding anniversary and we're going to Spain!  I can't believe it!"  (Clearly at this moment I didn't care if she thought I was a freak!  Remember, I'm a SAHM and don't get to Spain often...)  3 minutes later after finding our seats (thankfully in a 2-3-2 plane, we were in a 2 situation...), two glasses of champagne showed up.

Ka-chow!

Back to the United Club:  for those of you who do not know, it's all you can eat hummus and veggies and all the Bailey's your coffee can hold...all. day. long.  Plus free wi-fi and free, FREE, totally gratis magazines.  Like, good ones.  Some were in French so I didn't read those, and one said something on the cover about watching for 5 up and coming Canadian writers, so I flipped through the pages fully expecting to see Sarah Bessey and Emily Wierenga's names, but they were referencing five other Canadians ;)  All I know is, as I chowed on tons of veggies, hummus, and pesto, all the while Facetiming my kids, I wasn't sure how our trip could get better.  *Wink, wink...hello, let's not forget the destination...

And we're off!

Hi Emily Wierenga, Sarah Bessey, and, of course, let us not forget, David and Hilary!
(*None of these people endorse me or "know" me, really, but I'd totally want to hang with any of them, and who wouldn't want Hilary to redo their house, hello?!)

My new creation:  pesto ON TOP of hummus.  Yeah, I'm a SAHM who thinks outside the box.  You're welcome...(yes, I like to line veggies on my plate so they look pretty, and that's okay.)

SAHM needs to get out more, is all I gotta say...

The short train trip from the airport into the heart of Barcelona was lined with purple Morning Glories. Seriously?  Just growing, wild and free, as if they were weeds or something?  I purposefully bought Morning Glory seeds and planted them in my yard and smile their way as they greet me each morning, and here they are, just growing, literally everywhere.  Good start, Barcelona, you're beautiful!

This one is in our backyard, but just so you have a visual of what is growing all over in Barcelona, vine after vine after vine.  And, yes, the centers "glow" like that...

A two-block walk from the train stop and we walked into the lobby of our hotel where we were greeted by 2 of the nicest guys in Espana.  Jason asked if they had a room with a king-sized bed.  I could see the guys squirm a little, exchanging side glances as they told us they had already upgraded us to a certain room.  I gave him a little knowing look and toe kick and we received the keys and headed upstairs...

...to the nicest room in the hotel.  They learned it was our 20th and gave us the only room in the place with a rooftop terrace, plus a bottle of Cava and uh. maze. ing. dark chocolate truffles, to boot!

We were about a 1/2 mile away from La Sagrada Familia, which we could see from the terrace.  Of course, along with the spires were cranes which are almost always a part of the landscape.  (*One of two times my hair was straight in Spain...the rest of the trip I embraced the way God made me...lessons on that in another post...)

Dark truffles for my first breakfast in Espana?  Si, gracias!  

(*We didn't drink the Cava for breakfast, hello...so when we got back from hours of exploring they had left a note which said it was a free gift from them and "Happy Anniversary", thinking we didn't think it was free, though we did...anyway, along with another row of chocolates!  Love these guys!  Viva Barcelona!)

SAHM just upgraded from the Toronto airport United Club, BIG TIME, you know what I'm sayin'!?

So, anyway, since this is long, and since you couldn't see it all on the screen at once, you have already moved on.  In that case, the lesson here is:  Don't be afraid to tell people why you are celebrating life, not because you may get a free upgrade, but because...

...life is a celebration and other people enjoy celebrating with you!


More lessons to come.  Heck, this post only lets off at 10:30 on the first morning...

Re-entry

Spain was mucho awesome.  (I will share more later...)

I learned many things there and am inspired upon returning home to make some changes, finish some projects, write about some stuff, throw stuff away, and at the same time, I'm overwhelmed at the thought of any of it.

There's this major crash which happens after a stellar time away from reality.  It's the collision of re-entry and I've hit it hard this time.

I'm not complaining that I had time away, nor am I disappointed about being home, back in my life.

Part of the crash comes when you realize your two weeks of other people preparing you meals has come to a halt.  #sangriaatnoon

Maybe it's more disenchantment...and not that I don't siesta on a regular basis or drink sangria for lunch, truly, but more so because ever since Noah died, I've been disenchanted with the "American Dream" and get overwhelmed easily when I feel the margins shrinking in on me.

And I'm the only one who can change the margin width of this life document.

So, I'm not sure what this margin expansion will look like, but I know it will involve a lot of purging because my head and heart always feel better with less clutter.  The creative juices were also recharged in Spain, so designing and writing will be major contributors to creating more margin, too.

It was fitting this morning when the pastor shared his thoughts on God as Creator.  As a creative person I am often stifled by feeling boxed in, pigeon-holed, feeling stuck and then either staying in the stuck moment growing stagnant, or lifting my eyes to the One, the Ultimate Creative, and trusting Him to lead me as I live this life with intention, purposefully being creative for His glory, ugly mistakes and all.

Anyway, here are some random thoughts I wrote down today.  I hope they encourage and inspire you, as well:

• Regarding 40 years in the wilderness, sometimes in order to move into a new season in our lives, something has to die (a dream, behavior, former way of thinking or living...) 
• For 40 years in the wilderness the manna was new and fresh every morning, trusting God as the Supplier and Source of each day.  This time gathering and eating the daily bread was what gave strength for the day's journey.
• Before moving into a new season, take time to celebrate and remember God's faithfulness and steady love in the former season.  Stop.  Celebrate.  Give thanks.  He doesn't change but the seasons do.  
• Restlessness can create change in our hearts.  Be attune to your restlessness and lay it before God for what's next...
• "Sometimes we have to say goodbye to a good season in our lives in order to move into a great season," said the guy who was substitute speaking today.  (Cliche, yet often true...)

God is my Creative Director.  Though His love hasn't changed in all of time, He is Creative and brings a new day with new beginnings, life outside the box kind of living, stuff we've never seen, each and every day, if we seek Him.  

If you've measured God by the standards of men all your life, there is no wonder why you continue to be disappointed in Him.

Don't box Him in and just see what He will do.  

*Do you have a story to share of how you boxed God in and He showed up to show you just how Big He really is?  How do you create margin in your life?  Are you on the edge of a new season in your life?  If so, looking back, how can you show thankfulness, even in difficult times, in order to move forward with a new perspective?