I have spent the better half of 2019, wishing that I could
be anywhere but here. And by “here” I
mean, present. In my own body, doing the
painstaking hard work of adulting. Has the word “adulting” officially been added to the Webster’s
Dictionary yet? Because if not, that should be at the top of Merriam’s “to do”
list of 2020.
At the onset of 2019, I was asked what my word of the year would be. I was beginning the year feeling incredibly depleted emotionally and physically. I chose the word "joy" because it was, quite frankly, the last thing I was experiencing as the New Year rolled in. I remember my Ebenezer Scrooge "bah humbug" attitude on New Year's Eve of last year. I was feeling cynical of all you bright, optimistic go-getters with your resolutions and proclamations of what the new year would bring. I, on the other hand just wanted to climb under my covers and sleep the month of January away.
So naturally, "joy" felt like a good word to refocus my energy on and pursue in the new year. I couldn't realistically hide under my bed covers for the entire dreary month of January, but I could attempt to re-focus my mind and heart and look for joy the places it had been missing it in 2018.
If there were a real life version of Candid Camera following me around in 2019, I'm pretty sure there would be 3 prankster millennial dudes sitting in some obscure electronics room, laughing their skinny jean, hipster tushes off at me right now. 2019 rolled in with a sucker punch and spent the year sending one blow after another. If "joy" was what I blindly thought would just fall into my lap over the course of the year, I was in for a rude awakening. What I found was that just "proclaiming" a word over my year, doesn't actually mean squat.
In reality, I think I could say that my word for 2019 was grief. I've spent the year learning that often it takes losing and grieving, for God to really help you re-focus your heart, mind and priorities. But grief is the opposite of joy. And, that's where this whole thing feels incredibly ironic.
In 2019, I watched my best friend stand over her father's casket after a tragic farming accident and I listened to her guttural sobs as she said goodbye to him. I saw my parent's 33 year marriage come to an end and have had to redefine what the word "family" means now that divorce is a part of our story. My preschooler threw an epic tempter tantrum at the playground leaving me with a broken foot. Our otherwise healthy, 3 year-old lab puppy ended up with an infection in her toe which meant I spent the majority of my summer, hobbling on said broken foot, while carting three out-of-school kids and a rambunctious dog, to and from the vet, 2-3 times a week. All the while, incurring over $5,500 in vet bills. I had two hospital stays and an unexpected surgery. I watched my grandpa suffer and eventually pass away, leaving my dad, his siblings and my grandma to pick up the pieces and redefine what their family now looks like. And then, just as I thought 2019 couldn't possible throw anymore sucker punches my way, someone I love was diagnosed with cancer. Watching people you love, suffer and struggle is far from joyous.
I wish I could says that I responded to all of these really hard "adulting" experiences with grace and class. It's humbling to admit that I spent so much of my year feeling sorry for myself and questioning God's heart in it all. What I have experienced this year is a stripping of the many, many things that I depend on and idolize to experience a false sense of joy.
What I missed in the midst of this year was a heart of gratitude. What I lacked was faith that God was in the midst of it all. And instead of leaning into it all and seeking HIS heart for me in the midst of a really difficult year, I found myself numbing myself to the pain and avoiding the real wrestling that would put me face to face with God. One friend even pointed me back to the story of Jacob in Genesis 32 where he wrestled with God. "Isn't it ironic that Jacob wrestled with God and came away with a limp and you're hobbling around on a broken foot?".
And so, here I am, at the start of another New Year and faced, again with the challenge of choosing a word that will represent. I've been mulling it over in my head for the last month or so and this morning at 4:30 am, while lying in bed, the word just came to me. Present. I don't mean "present" like the stack of gifts that were waiting under each of our pine Christmas trees. I mean present as in "here and now", in the moment, intentional.
What I missed while wallowing into my Ben & Jerry's ice cream and railing on God for not rescuing me from pain, was being present. When pain is a part of your story, being present is often the hardest thing to embrace.
Henry Nouwen writes in his book The Inner Voice of Love, "There is a deep hole in your being, like an abyss. You will never succeed in filling that hole, because your needs are inexhaustible. You have to work around it so that gradually the abyss closes. Since the hole is so enormous and your anguish so deep, you will always be tempted to flee from it. There are two extremes to avoid: being completely absorbed in your pain and being distracted by so many things that you stay far away from the wound you want to heal."
I spent the better half of 2019 running from healing. I stopped writing. I buried myself in work. I turned to social media and spent way too many hours scrolling and comparing and scrolling some more. It's embarrassing, really. I suppose I can sit here today and share honestly that tough experiences of this past year have brought me to a rock bottom place of recognizing the need for some drastic changes.
I've never been big on New Year's Resolutions so while sharing my plans for change does feel quite a bit cliche, I hope it will encourage someone else who has been feeling similarly to myself. This year I plan to get back to writing. My husband says I am at my healthiest when I am putting words to the madness that is swirling around in my head.
As a family, we are making some huge technology changes. My social media apps have been deleted from my phone and the passwords have been changed, giving me access to social media only when my husband is home in the evenings to help keep me accountable. I'll be scheduling all business posts ahead of time and only answering comments at set times. We are cancelling cable entirely and the i-pads are being stored somewhere high up on a shelf. Family board games are making a comeback this year in our home. My kids will either learn to love it or their technology deprivation will send them to therapy.
Moving forward, Sundays are for Sabbath and rest. I won't be doing photography sessions on Sundays as a way to be present with our family and to focus on how to best tackle the week ahead.
Other goals for this year are to read more as a family and for myself. We also have a goal to be more intentional about getting our kids out of their entitled, upper class, white skinned American bubble. I could go on and on about this last goal but that's more for another blog post in the future.
I'll be honest in sharing that one of the reasons I stopped writing came from the disillusionment I was feeling towards the blogging world and the trap I was finding myself caught up in as I desired to grow a larger following and gain popularity. This was never, ever why I began writing over here on Little Mountain Momma. If you've been a tried and true follower since the start of this page, you may remember that I began writing as a way to encourage other mommas who were struggling with postpartum depression. Eventually this blog began to extend it's reach further and speak to those dealing with pregnancy loss + the highs and lows of every day motherhood. But, the more I found myself caught up in the desire to be seen and noticed, the more I began to hate it. It felt inauthentic but I wasn't quite sure how to get back the intentional place that this blog originally began from.
Moving forward, my hope is that my writing over here will touch just a few of you. If my words reach more than just a few, then that's wonderful. But in reintroducing myself back into the world of sharing authentically on my little corner of the internet, I have to remain true to the reasons that I began this little blog so many years ago.
I'm just a wife and momma, like so many of you. I don't want free clothing or sponsorships. I don't need or want thousands of readers or followers. I just want to bring light and encouragement to other women who are raising tiny humans to love Jesus and are trying to do it well. I don't have any giant epiphanies to share today other than to be honest in saying that I'm right in the middle of a mess and I am more desperate for Jesus than ever. If that's you too, then you're in the right place and I'm excited to do this journey together.
Henry Nouwen writes in his book The Inner Voice of Love, "There is a deep hole in your being, like an abyss. You will never succeed in filling that hole, because your needs are inexhaustible. You have to work around it so that gradually the abyss closes. Since the hole is so enormous and your anguish so deep, you will always be tempted to flee from it. There are two extremes to avoid: being completely absorbed in your pain and being distracted by so many things that you stay far away from the wound you want to heal."
I spent the better half of 2019 running from healing. I stopped writing. I buried myself in work. I turned to social media and spent way too many hours scrolling and comparing and scrolling some more. It's embarrassing, really. I suppose I can sit here today and share honestly that tough experiences of this past year have brought me to a rock bottom place of recognizing the need for some drastic changes.
I've never been big on New Year's Resolutions so while sharing my plans for change does feel quite a bit cliche, I hope it will encourage someone else who has been feeling similarly to myself. This year I plan to get back to writing. My husband says I am at my healthiest when I am putting words to the madness that is swirling around in my head.
As a family, we are making some huge technology changes. My social media apps have been deleted from my phone and the passwords have been changed, giving me access to social media only when my husband is home in the evenings to help keep me accountable. I'll be scheduling all business posts ahead of time and only answering comments at set times. We are cancelling cable entirely and the i-pads are being stored somewhere high up on a shelf. Family board games are making a comeback this year in our home. My kids will either learn to love it or their technology deprivation will send them to therapy.
Moving forward, Sundays are for Sabbath and rest. I won't be doing photography sessions on Sundays as a way to be present with our family and to focus on how to best tackle the week ahead.
Other goals for this year are to read more as a family and for myself. We also have a goal to be more intentional about getting our kids out of their entitled, upper class, white skinned American bubble. I could go on and on about this last goal but that's more for another blog post in the future.
I'll be honest in sharing that one of the reasons I stopped writing came from the disillusionment I was feeling towards the blogging world and the trap I was finding myself caught up in as I desired to grow a larger following and gain popularity. This was never, ever why I began writing over here on Little Mountain Momma. If you've been a tried and true follower since the start of this page, you may remember that I began writing as a way to encourage other mommas who were struggling with postpartum depression. Eventually this blog began to extend it's reach further and speak to those dealing with pregnancy loss + the highs and lows of every day motherhood. But, the more I found myself caught up in the desire to be seen and noticed, the more I began to hate it. It felt inauthentic but I wasn't quite sure how to get back the intentional place that this blog originally began from.
Moving forward, my hope is that my writing over here will touch just a few of you. If my words reach more than just a few, then that's wonderful. But in reintroducing myself back into the world of sharing authentically on my little corner of the internet, I have to remain true to the reasons that I began this little blog so many years ago.
I'm just a wife and momma, like so many of you. I don't want free clothing or sponsorships. I don't need or want thousands of readers or followers. I just want to bring light and encouragement to other women who are raising tiny humans to love Jesus and are trying to do it well. I don't have any giant epiphanies to share today other than to be honest in saying that I'm right in the middle of a mess and I am more desperate for Jesus than ever. If that's you too, then you're in the right place and I'm excited to do this journey together.
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