My Pregnancy & Birth Story

Pregnancy

I did not enjoy pregnancy. I was ecstatic to know Joel and I were able to have a baby, but pregnancy was not fun. Almost a week after I took a pregnancy test, nausea hit hard. Nausea is my kryptonite. I can handle tendon tears and broken bones. Nausea not so much.

The last few weeks of school before Christmas break were rough. I ate half a saltine cracker between each class period and sipped on ginger ale throughout the day. I ordered Preggie Pop Drops, but they didn't help much. I went from being a totally engaged teacher who never sat down to one who sat in a chair at the front of the classroom only giving directions. I sat more in early pregnancy than I sat after either of my ankle surgeries (and I couldn't put any weight on my right foot after those surgeries). My relationships with a lot of my students dwindled in that time. Looking back, I truly hate that. But in the moment, all I could think about was not throwing up in front of them.

Over Christmas break, I cancelled almost every plan I made. I have a Christmas obsession, but I couldn't get off the couch to enjoy the lights, the concerts, the gingerbread houses, or the plays. I was too nauseous. Thankfully, at my first prenatal doctor's appointment, I was able to get a prescription for Diclegis. It was a life saver, and I was able to participate in Christmas Eve and Christmas Day festivities without horrendous nausea.

I had heard great things about the second trimester, but for me, it was filled with allergies. My nose bled every day, and I couldn't breathe out of it at all. My asthma got bad too. I used a humidifier nightly, but I kept a pretty consistent cough and sore throat in that phase of pregnancy.

I felt the best and the most like myself in the third trimester (aside from the big belly and major acid reflux). When school let out for the summer, I started exercising daily. I got up early enough to beat the heat and walked my dogs for 30-35 minutes each day. I did yoga, pregnancy ball exercises, the squat challenge (where you do 300 squats a day), and I kept up with my garden, flower beds, and house work. Each day, I drank a gallon of water, drank 3 cups of red raspberry leaf tea, and ate 6 dates. I felt great as far as pregnancy goes. I had hardly any swelling and no stretch marks. I was certain I was going to have an easy birth and be back to myself in no time. I was also certain that I was going to have Emerson early because of all the prep I had done and the fact that I had started having intense Braxton Hicks contractions every night from about 36 weeks onward. I hoped she would come before my dad had to fly out of town for business.

Emerson had other plans. She didn't want to come early. At my 39 week appointment, my doctor scheduled me for an induction. Even though my dad had already left for his trip, I was excited to finally meet my little girl. I was also more than ready to be done with pregnancy.

The Birth

The night before my induction was scheduled, I started having contractions every 10 minutes. They never got any closer than that so I ignored them as best as I could and waited for my induction. Joel and I checked into the hospital at 2:00pm on July 25. A nurse asked me questions about my medical history and hooked me up to a monitor. She gave me Cervidil to help soften my cervix. I was scheduled to get Pitocin, the actual induction drug, the following morning. Emerson was predicted to arrive sometime the following afternoon. I expected to have a boring night in the hospital, but the Cervidil made my contractions stronger and more consistent. Sometimes I barely had a minute to breathe in between them. When a nurse came in to check my cervix, she broke my water. They called my doctor and let her know, and things got crazy from there. I requested an epidural, thinking Emerson would probably make her appearance in the next couple of hours. I was afraid to miss the epidural window.

Once I got the epidural, Emerson's heart rate dropped. One minute the nurses were putting an oxygen mask on my face and helping me rotate from side to side, hoping to get her heart rate back up. The next minute I was being rushed down the hallway for an emergency c-section. A doctor I had never met before introduced herself. It all happened so fast I don't even remember her name. I was pretty overwhelmed by all the nurses in the room with us, including the NICU nurses who were ready to take Emerson if need be. The doctor cut me open and had Emerson out in no time. She was healthy and perfect. 7 pounds 2 ounces. 20 inches long.

My doctor arrived in time to sew me back up. Joel brought Emerson over to me so I could see her. My arms started twitching, and I got incredibly nauseous around that time. That's the last thing I remember before waking up in ICU. Joel told me I'd had seizures, and no one knew why. My doctor later informed me that I'd gotten anesthesia toxicity because my epidural had been placed too close to a blood vessel. I hadn't had a brain seizure. My spasms were muscle related, and the lipids they gave me made them stop.

I spent the night in ICU. At first, I was upset because my birth had turned out so totally different than I'd expected. I didn't get to have skin to skin time with Emerson. I didn't get to watch her first bath. I didn't get the window of special time just me, Joel, and Emerson. I didn't even get to be with her other than a few minutes here and there to feed her a bottle because she couldn't stay in the ICU without a nurse from the mother-baby floor.

The next morning my mom sat with me so Joel could be with Emerson. We didn't want Emerson to be in the nursery without either of us. I watched Joel change his first diaper through FaceTime, and it was actually quite hilarious. While he was wiping the meconium (the sticky newborn poop) off of her, she peed a fountain of pee. Joel said, "I thought you said girls didn't do that." I laughed so hard, even though laughing was incredibly painful after my c-section.

Around noon, I was transferred to the mother-baby floor. It was a long and exhausting experience with a much longer recovery than I'd anticipated, but in the end, all that matters is that Joel and I were blessed with a beautiful, healthy baby girl. I wouldn't trade her for the world.

How I Got an Agent

For those of you who follow me on social media, you already know the exciting news that I now have a literary agent! What you probably don't know is how amazingly orchestrated my journey to finding an agent was.

It all started with a decision that had nothing to do with writing whatsoever.

Joel and I decided we wanted to find a new church. There was nothing wrong with our old church, but I felt that it was time to branch off from the church I grew up in, the church where so many people knew me as my parent's daughter rather than as me. I had spent many good years at that church, and I loved how many of my students I got to see on Wednesday nights. Because of that time, I was blessed to build deep, meaningful relationships with so many of them. Where I struggled, though, was that I had given so much of my time and energy to teenagers that I had neglected friendships with people my own age. Joel and I had so little time to invest in other young married couples because I was always serving teenagers. We felt it was time to step back from serving so that we could build the friendships we needed to hold us accountable and to go through life with us.

Changing churches led us to seeking out a small group. Instead of going about joining a small group in the traditional way, I messaged a friend of mine who I had met while I was in graduate school. She encouraged us to come to her group one Wednesday night, and we have been going ever since.

That small group is where I met Laura. Like me, she is a teacher and a writer.

Back in February, Laura messaged me about a writing conference (The Alabama Writing Workshop) in Birmingham, AL. At first Laura didn't plan on going to the conference, but it seemed like a great opportunity so I signed up to go by myself (something I usually would never do because I'm awkward).

At that point, I was a little discouraged in terms of writing, and I was hoping to break free of that mentality. I had just recently heard back from an agent who loved my novel but turned it down because he didn't typically work with the fantasy genre, and he thought it would do better with another agent's representation. I was thankful that he liked my novel, but it was discouraging to hear the rejection after checking my email no less than 100,000 times as I waited for his response. At the ALAWW, I hoped to move forward from that rejection and to make some connections with other agents.

Laura ended up deciding to go to the conference, and it turned out to be a nice day (even though we ate lunch with a group of people who talked about eating humans and cannibal recipes, haha). Laura pitched her picture books to Marisa Corvisiero and was signed on the spot. YAY! :)

In August, I signed up for the writer's conference put on by the Corvisiero Literary Agency (the agency run by Laura's agent). Laura gave me a shout out on Twitter for signing up, and that is how I was first introduced to Justin. On Twitter, Justin and I talked a lot about my job as teacher, my students, and writing in general. It was nice to have those conversations with him before I pitched my novel to him at the conference.

About a week after pitching my novel, Justin offered me representation, and I gladly accepted. Now Laura and I get to be church family and agency family.

It amazes me how the decisions we make in life, whether big or small, can lead us down paths we were never expecting to follow. When I look back on signing the contract with Justin, it's not just that one moment that stands out to me. It's all the little details and decisions and people that placed me in the right place at the right time.

In reflecting, I'm reminded yet again just how perfectly God orchestrates our lives. Not only does that comfort me, but also it fills me with joy. I can trust that God has given me a vision for the future, and I need only follow Him in my day-to-day life decisions. He will get me where He wants me to be exactly when He wants me to get there. I can't think of a greater comfort than knowing that God is working behind the scenes of our lives.

Faith of the Skydiver

Years ago, I made a bucket list. It holds the normal things like skydiving and traveling to other countries and the less normal things like riding in a Smart Car (I'm still holding out hope for that one). My parents offered to pay for me to skydive as a birthday present not long after I made that list. But Barnes & Noble happened. I walked out of B&N with a stack of brand new books, justifying my book addiction by convincing myself that the adventures on those pages would far outlast the short-lived adventure that was skydiving. And for a time, I suppose they did.

As time passed, I grew more and more comfortable with reading about other's adventures in fiction rather than experiencing my own adventures. It was safer to live that way. There's no impending danger when you crack open a book. No chance you'll fall out of an airplane and land flat on the pavement, never to get back up again. No chance you'll vomit your guts onto that pavement either (a far greater fear for me than the first).

Being the Type A person I am, I knew I couldn't avoid skydiving forever. The idea of it grew scarier with time, but still, I had written it on my bucket list. It had to be checked off. Lucky for me, I married an adventure seeker. Before I could talk myself out of skydiving a second time, he had my skydiving adventure scheduled and paid for. You can't walk away from that.

I think my fear level the moment we pulled into the parking lot that day paralleled my fear level during the April 27, 2011 tornadoes. I wasn't surrounded by total chaos, but I just knew I was going to throw up. Yes, you read that correctly. My greatest fear wasn't dying. I'd run a marathon without properly training and listened to the potential death announcement that warned non-trained participants not to attempt such a brutal beast. It wasn't even getting injured that scared me. I could deal with that. Two ankle surgeries practically made me a pro at injury recovery. Vomiting, not so much. I'd rather die.

I begged Joel to let me back out, to let me just wait in the car for him to go. It didn't work. I was in the building signing a waiver before I could even process where my attempt to back out had gone wrong.

A man approached us, asking if I was afraid.

"Yes," I gulped.

He assured me that it was normal to be afraid. Most people were afraid to skydive on their first time. I assured him that I, unlike most people, was not afraid of anything but vomiting. He laughed at me and then convinced me that skydiving was nothing like the rides at amusement parks that make your stomach drop.

"Are you sure I'm not going to throw up?" I asked for the fifteenth time.

After he explained that his very pregnant wife had just recently gone skydiving, I was sure that I had nothing to worry about.

Heart racing, I suited up and walked outside with Joel. We took a picture to keep me from focusing on what was about to happen. Really, we took a picture because in this day and time, you haven't experienced anything until you post a picture of it on social media.

Getting on the plane is kind of a blur. I don't remember much until I was straddling a bench in front of a man I'd only just met. He was attaching himself to me. I had almost convinced myself that it wasn't going to be so bad until the plane door opened and we began inching our way towards the hole. The experienced skydivers jumped out the door and were just sucked into oblivion, or so it seemed. The only comfort I had in that moment was the man who was attached to Joel. For some reason, he was talking about Harry Potter, and I knew these men had to be trustworthy if they were Harry Potter fans.

When my partner and I sat at the edge, ready to fall out of the plane, I'm glad I didn't have time to look down. My partner simply rocked us back and forth three times and then we were tumbling through the air.

I thought skydiving would be a huge adrenaline rush, but it just hurt my ears. The good news is I didn't throw up, and my students think I'm either really cool or really crazy because I jumped out of a plane by choice.

Looking back on the skydiving experience, the thing that stands out to me the most is probably the insane amount of trust involved in tandem skydiving. I had never met the man who was attached to my back. Sure, we traded a few casual sentences and sure, he liked Harry Potter, but I put my whole life into his hands, trusting that he knew what he was doing with our parachute. Even though my biggest concern at the time was not throwing up, it still amazes me that I could sit there and trust a complete stranger.

I sometimes wonder why it was so much easier for me to trust a stranger with my life than it is for me to trust the God who is nearer to me than my very heart. In all honesty, my experience skydiving is what my faith should look like. Me and God, sitting at the edge of what is unknown to me but fully known to Him. I cannot look back because looking back leads to comfort and the avoidance of adventure. I cannot look down because I'm not meant to see the full picture. The full picture would be too great a burden, and I would cower in fear, never taking the leap of faith. I can only look straight ahead at the beauty that's right in front of me and thirst for the adventure that's ahead. And when He tells me that it's time to take the leap of faith, I don't have to do it on my own. I don't have to sit frozen in fear with my feet dangling over the edge of the adventure He has planned for me. I simply have to lean back and let Him rock me back and forth, trusting that His gentle nudge will lead me down the path I'm meant to go, and He will keep me safe and afloat all along the way.

The Day We Took No Notes

This is a true story.

It seemed like an ordinary day, and I suppose it was until late that afternoon. My students were taking notes on grammar. I was checking attendance. As I said before, ordinary day.

I read over the last few names on my attendance sheet, and I just so happened to look up in time to see a boy approaching me. He was struggling to say my name because his mouth was filled with a reddish-purple liquid. His teeth were stained by the liquid. My first thought: He's bitten his tongue off. Oh my goodness! I have no idea how to handle this. They don't train you for stuff like this in school. I can't believe he bit his tongue off.

I suppose I was in shock from what I thought had happened, so I directly asked the student, "Did you bite your tongue off?"

The student mumbled some more.

Oh no! Oh no! He really bit it off. What am I going to do?

"What is he saying? Did he bite his tongue off?" I nervously asked a nearby student, one who had been sitting in the same group as the ink-filled boy and who had quite possibly witnessed the whole thing.

The student quickly shook his head.

"No," he said. "His ink pen busted in his mouth. He was chewing on the end of it."

Relief flooded over me. I wouldn't have to deal with the trauma of a lost tongue after all.

"Go to the bathroom," I encouraged the ink-filled student. "Stop trying to talk. Go rinse your mouth out."

The student nodded, his cheeks on the verge of explosion from all the ink and accumulating saliva. He rushed out the door, and I called the front office, requesting that an administrator check on him. As soon as I hung up the phone, another student called my name. I looked toward him. His dark skin was pale as it could be.

"Ms. Shirley," he said, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "I think he's going to die."

If I'm being honest, all I could think was, Why do you care? You told me yesterday that you hated him. Of course, being a teacher, you can't say those kind of things out loud. Instead, I went with, "He's not going to die. An administrator is checking on him right now."

"No," said the kid, shaking his head. "You don't understand. There is poison in ink. He has that poison in his mouth. If he swallows any of it, he's going to die. Ms. Shirley, I don't like [insert student's name] one bit, but I don't want him to die. I'd rather hate him while he's still alive than have him die."

"He's not going to die," I repeated.

"Can we pray for him just in case?"

"Yes," I said. "If it would make you feel better, you can pray for him."

The student smiled and clasped his hands together.

"Everyone," he said, looking at his peers. "Put your hands together. Ms. Shirley is going to pray for him."

All of the students but one clasped their hands together and looked at me.

"No," said one of the girls, her hands clasped together. "Ms. Shirley can't pray for him. She'll get arrested."

"I won't get arrested," I assured her, "but you're right. It would be best if you prayed individually."

"Yeah, I'm not praying," said the student with the non-clasped hands. "I'm atheist."

"Okay, okay," I said, trying to calm the chaos. "How about this. Those of you who want to pray, pray silently. Those of you who don't want to pray, don't pray. Will that work?"

All of the students, the atheist included, nodded. I looked over at the student who had originally requested the prayer. He seemed fine with my suggestion and put his hands together once more. He looked up at the ceiling tiles, took a deep breath, and smiled.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, still looking up.

"Um, that was not silent," I said, trying not to laugh.

"Oops," he said, looking at me with a sheepish expression.

At this point, I could not help but laugh. The rest of the class followed in suit. Almost instantaneously, the student with the ink-filled mouth returned. The ink was gone, but his mouth was now filled with toilet tissue.

"Good news," he said, his voice barely audible through the toilet tissue. "The administrator said I'm going to live. The pen was non-toxic."

The whole class cheered. My non-silent prayer warrior nodded his head.

"I knew he was going to live," he said, confidently. "Jesus told me."

"Did he?" I asked. "You never even finished your prayer."

The class filled with laughter, including my non-silent prayer warrior. In the midst of the laughter, another student's hand shot up in the air.

"Ms. Shirley, can I get some water?" he asked. "I accidentally ate a piece of paper."

What in the world is going on? This is 7th grade, not kindergarten. What's with everyone eating school supplies?

"Yeah, go ahead," I said, having totally given up on taking notes for the day. "Does anyone want to eat a glue stick?"

The entire class erupted into laughter, and moments later, the bell rang to dismiss the craziest, funniest, most memorable class period of my life.

Mini Update

My blog entries have been few and far between.  It's not because I've been neglecting my writing; in fact, I've been doing quite the opposite.  I've spent the last few weeks working diligently on the revision process of my novel.  It's amazing how far it has come, and I cannot wait until it is completed this time around.  I truly believe it is becoming the story it was intended to be.  It has been quite helpful having my husband around.  He has started to paint the map to the kingdom I created in my novel.  I tell him where certain things belong, and he paints it out to help me visualize what I'm saying.  It's the most incredible thing to see something you've created with words painted onto a coffee-stained canvas.  Every writer needs an artistically talented husband!

In other news, my awesome map-painting husband and I will be attending the ACFW conference in August.  At that time, I will be pitching my novel to a few literary agents for the second time.  This time, unlike last year, I feel more than ready for that step in the process.  It's nice to actually know what I'm doing now.  

I look forward to seeing what God has in store for my writing, and I am more than thankful that I have a husband who is willing to stand beside me as I chase after my dreams.  It'll be fun to introduce him to the world of writing firsthand; it'll also be fun for us to meet new people and form new connections. 

So here's to finishing up my novel revisions!  I'll update again once I've finished that (unless of course another crazy/exciting story comes bubbling up inside of me that needs to be shared right away as a blog entry).  I hope to have more exciting news in my next entry.  I just wanted my readers and supporters to know that I haven't forgotten you. :)

The Stories God Has Been Writing

Wow, it's been so long since I last updated my blog that I almost don't even know where to begin.  Okay, I don't at all know where to begin.  But that's the thing with writing (and I guess life, too), you don't always have to know where you're going to get going.  You just have to get started and see what happens.

On March 12, 2016, I got to marry the man God made for me.  We were married in the church where I grew up by the pastor who once served as my youth pastor and currently serves as our contemporary service's pastor.  Like every other girl in the history of girls, I had a wedding planned out in my mind from the time I heard my first fairy tale.  But let me tell you, my wedding far surpassed anything I could have ever dreamed up.  You see, in my imagination, my wedding was going to be all about me (and a little bit about my husband, too, if I was feeling selfless enough - kidding, of course), but in reality, it was all about God.  Joel and I put a lot of thought into the scripture that was to be read in our wedding ceremony.  So often, weddings use the traditional 1 Corinthians 13 verses, and don't get me wrong, those verses are absolutely beautiful and more than suitable for a wedding, but we didn't feel like those verses fit with what we wanted our wedding to portray.  Because while it is important to know that love is patient and kind, not self-seeking, and so on, love cannot happen without humility and sacrifice, and salvation cannot happen apart from Christ, the most humble and sacrificial of all.  Therefore, we chose Philippians 2 as our wedding verses.  Those verses not only describe what a relationship centered in Christ should look like, they also tell the gospel story.  And what's more important than sharing the gospel story?

  First dance as Mr. and Mrs.

Then there was the fact that I got to wear my aunt's wedding dress.  I can remember thinking my aunt looked like a princess on her wedding day.  I was just a junior bridesmaid back then, and I adored her dress.  In the back of my mind, I always hoped I could wear her wedding dress one day.  We arranged for me to wear her wedding dress, and a couple weeks later, I found out that my aunt was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of breast cancer.  Wearing her dress in my wedding became so much more special to me because it gained a whole new level of significance.

I cannot help but praise God when I think about my wedding day and my life thus far with my husband because it's all God's doing.  God is the One who took a girl who swore she'd never come back to her hometown and brought her home.  God is the One who took a boy who lived in Oregon and led him to Alabama.  God is the One who set up the first encounter of that girl and boy, and were it not for Him all throughout their lives, the girl and boy would have never met.  God is the One who began orchestrating their love story long before it was ever conceived in the minds of the girl and boy.  I think that's pretty clearly shown in this slideshow:

Joel and I spent our honeymoon in Kauai, HI.  We went hiking, kayaking, ATVing, coffee tasting, and more.  We even saw a chicken cross the street using a crosswalk.  Unfortunately, that chicken was headed to KFC.  Not a good plan!  Amongst all these great adventures and experiences, it was amazing to me to be married to someone who was willing to read the bible with me and pray with me every morning, even on a vacation to Hawaii.  We came back from our honeymoon super sick.  Joel had a terrible sinus infection, and I was so severely dehydrated that I got to spend a few hours in the hospital getting an IV of fluids.  I don't think we got off the couch the next day for anything other than to get another Gatorade or water.  Welcome to married life, right?

One of the many waterfalls to which we ventured.

Softball season was going strong by this point, and I had my first ever student teacher.  At first, I was a little frustrated having to sit behind my desk every day and watch someone else teach my class and interact with my students.  Having nothing to do may sound like a dream come true, but not for me.  Interacting with my students and building relationships with them is the whole reason I teach.  So to see someone else taking over my classroom was hard for me.  But, in the end, I realized how blessed I was to have my student teacher in my classroom, especially in the middle of softball season mixed with wedding planning (she really kept me from drowning).  Looking back, I see how God refined my heart through that time.  I learned to step back, let go of control, and give someone else a chance to do her thing.  In doing so, my students lost nothing.  Instead, they gained a role model, and I gained a new friend.

Throughout the school year, my students and I had been working hard to come up with some kind of community service idea to be the focus for our organization, #ProjectRippleEffect.  We made banners and collected toys for kids in the community with cancer.  We collected and distributed water bottles to the homeless.  We wrote encouraging quotes and distributed them to every single child in the school.  But, soon, it became too much.  There were too many ideas.  Good ideas.  But still, too many.   Our focus was all over the place, and with too much momentum and not enough direction, the students' passion for #ProjectRippleEffect fizzled.

Then came socos.  The word "socos" comes from the combination of the words "socks" and "Chacos," but we expanded the term to encompass any sock and sandal combination so that the kids who don't own Chacos can still be a part of soco day.  Originally, we wore socos to be goofy.  Instead of the whole Mean Girls "On Wednesdays we wear pink," we decided we'd go with "On Fridays we wear socos."  From there, we decided to make socos an anti-bullying campaign.  We wore socos every Friday to "soc[out]" bullying.  But, for some reason, it just didn't seem like an anti-bullying campaign was our organization's purpose.  We continued to wear socos anyways, brainstorming all the while for what our real purpose could be.  Then, a few weeks before school ended, it came to us.  Socos would be our way to raise awareness for cancer.  On Fridays, we would wear socos to "soc[out]" cancer.  Instead of simply leaving it as a sock and sandal combination, we decided that the color sock you wear should be representative of the type of cancer that has affected you or a loved one.  The idea was that we would be held together by the straps of our sandals and fight together as one against cancer.  Socos grew rapidly from there, and we were able to start a few videos, write a soco rap, and sell soco shirts to raise money for local cancer organizations.  It's been an incredible journey, and I can't wait to see how soco day continues to grow in the future.  

 The first unofficial soco day last year.

 Representing the many types of cancer with #PRE drops.

On Fridays we wear socos to "soc[out]" cancer.

Recently, I had a second ankle surgery.  I've been on crutches for about two weeks now, and I have 6 days to go.  It's been interesting to start out married life and end such a passion-filled school year on crutches, but God has blessed me beyond measure.  As frustrated as I get not being able to run or get my own cup of coffee or play efficiently with mine and Joel's new husky puppy, I know that God is continuing to refine my heart as He teaches me that I was never meant to rely on myself.  We were not created to be self-sufficient.  We were created to be God-sufficient.  Sometimes it just takes a few weeks on crutches to remember that and to truly appreciate the help that is offered by others.  After all, this life really isn't about us.

Still wearing socos because cancer is worse than ankle surgery.

Introducing Baby Moses to his big brother, Bryant.  Our little family. :)

New Year, Old Prayer, Continuing Desire

When you come across old prayers and realize you still want to live out that same thing.
Written December 31, 2014

In a few hours, it begins.  "It" being the start of something entirely new, and no, I don't just mean a new year.  In a few hours, well actually I've already started the process, I will be surrendering my life to God in a whole new way.  I'm letting go - of control, of people pleasing, of the desire for human approval.  You see, I'm being made new this year.  I'm dedicating all that I am and all that I'll be to my Lord and Savior.  I'm re-finding my first love.

This is the year I jump in with two feet, despite the fact that one is still in a cast.  This is the year I find my self-worth.  No, it's not in a new diet.  It's not in a new marathon record.  It's not even in finishing a novel.  My self-worth is in Christ, and He thinks I am just marvelous and beautiful the way I am.  He loves me despite my shortcomings.  He's even willing to be the strength in my shortcomings.  His love has changed me and is continuing to change me.

I have nothing to offer Him but my very life.  My goals, my desires, my aspirations.  And that is what this year, for me, is all about.  Wherever He leads, I'll go, and I'll carry with me a heart full of love.

No more, "Woe is me."  This year, Lord, HERE I AM.  SEND ME.

2015 New Year's Resolutions 

(I think for 2016, I'll just keep working towards these):

1. Let the Spirit lead me, not the flesh.

2. Stop overthinking and simply do.  Stop overthinking and simply love.

3. Expect miracles. Believe in miracles. Witness miracles.

4. Stop chasing my dreams and start chasing God's dreams.

5. Align my will with the will of the Father.

6. Stop being "strong" and place my weaknesses at the foot of the cross.

7. Replace the idol of human approval with a desire for God's approval.

8. Cherish quiet times and take them to heart.

9. Live in the moment, not the past or the future.  Wherever I am, be ALL there.

10. Don't let the things I don't have steal my joy.

11. Wait with patience and hope for God's timing.

12. Don't wait to have "true love" before truly loving.

13. Find contentment in Christ alone.

14. Plant the Word deep within my heart by memorizing and living out Scripture.

15. Let go of what I cling to so that God can work.

16. Stop being a people pleaser and start being a people lover.

17. Listen more.  Speak less.

18. Hear what others are saying.  Don't drown their words with my thoughts.

19. Communicate my true feelings and stop faking them to appease others.

20. Talk TO people, not AT them.

21. Stop living a life of checklists, rules, and schedules.

22. Find my value in the One who created me.

23. Give my heart fully to the One who created me.

24. Find a spiritual mentor.

25. Find a woman of God older than me to pray with and for.

26. Challenge my spiritual mentee to be more than ordinary.

27. Practice hospitality.  Welcome guests into my home.

28. Seek out the last, the lost, and the least.

29. Work harder.  Complain less.

30. Journey into nature and pause to take in its beauty.

31. Take the Sabbath for what it is and actually REST!

32. Plug into a Sunday School class and/or small group.

33. Minimize phone time and focus on real people.

34. Learn to pray with absolute faith and reckless abandon.

35. Hold nothing back when it comes to my God.

36. Lift my hands in worship.

37. Let go of my control so that God can perform miracles.

38. Love with all that I am, expecting nothing in return.

39. Climb mountains to pray.

40. Experience a sunrise on the mountaintop.

41. Spend a weekend in nature, worshipping around the fire and glorifying God's name.

42. Have Saturday morning breakfasts and prayers with friends and family.

43. Help shoulder the burdens of my friends.

44. Be more than a roommate.  Actually do life with my roommate.

45. Carry the light of Christ in my heart, eyes, and smile.

46. Use my artistic talents for God's kingdom.  Don't let them rust.

47. Wear the armor of God daily so that Satan's attacks are futile.

48. Use my money for the kingdom's purposes.

49. Make a bigger effort to know and love my brothers and sisters at church.

50. Keep in constant contact with old friends.

51. Reconnect with friends with whom I've lost touch.

52. Step out of my comfort zone without hesitation when God calls.

53. Do something radical for someone that leads them to the foot of the cross.

54. Learn new skills for the kingdom's purposes.

55. Rid my life of excess and clutter.

56. Have devotion/prayer time before work.

57. Help those without a family find a sense of family.

58. Help my best friend prepare for her homeless ministry.

59. Let my coaching time be for God's glory.

60. Live above circumstances.  Mountain high or valley low, praise God!

61. Make someone else's life just a little easier, even if it's uncomfortable to me.

62. Make time to see my brother and his family at least once a month.

63. Write often.

64. Serve weekly.

65. Find new places to serve.

66. Strengthen my Spanish for kingdom purposes.

67. Share the story of the gospel near and far.

68. Return to my first love, and find a passion for Him that is contagious.

69. Pray thoroughly and consistently for my Compassion kids.

70. Pray thoroughly and consistently when decision making.

71. Pray thoroughly and consistently in day-to-day life.

72. Pray for the world (all the countries by name).

73. Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is holy, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.

74. Seek first the kingdom of God.

75. Pour out love and living water beyond what makes sense.

76. Believe in the impossible.

77. Don't patch over pain.  Cry out to God.  Shed tears.

78. Take care of my body for God, not self-image problems.

79. Don't stay cooped up inside.  Be where people are.

80. Refuel with Jesus - nothing else.

81. Stay positive.  Remember perspective.

82. Stop overanalyzing people's words and actions. 

83. Greet and leave people with a hug.

84. Show my students a real example of a Christ follower.

85. Help my students prepare for the future.

86. Be spontaneous and surprise people for no reason other than to spread a smile.

87. Be an encourager.  Speak life, compliments, kindness, and love.

88. Make sacrifices for love.

89. Set aside differences and let love shine.

90. Exercise to be equipped for kingdom purposes.

91. Learn to walk away from unhealthy situations while still showing love.

92. Pray for my best friend and her ministry in Costa Rica.

93. Pray constantly for fire to burn in Joel's heart so that God can use him to set the world ablaze for Christ.

94. Pray for Joel's family and a daily increase in their love for God.

95. Pray constantly for my family's faith.

96. Pray that God will send out workers to do His kingdom's work.

97. Carry my cross daily.  Be made new daily.

98. Write out my prayers.

99. Learn that love conquers all.

100. Keep a prayer/spiritual journal.