Sometimes.

Sometimes I get these urges to write that stop me in my tracks. Like now, when I should be studying but I can’t. Because there are words and stories in my head begging to be let out.

Questions I wrestle with, like should I say yes to that thing I haven’t answered yet? Have I been a good enough wife? Why did I bite my lip and talk through my teeth at my kids this morning?

People I see and can’t help but wonder: what’s their story?  How do they feel and how have they hurt and do they know Jesus? Passerbyers in the coffee shop and in Target and driving down the road. It’s almost like I feel them, and for a second I get a glimpse of the answer, but then I move on.

What will my legacy be when I leave this Earth, and did I love well? Did I love well consistently or only when it was comfortable? How will people remember me when I’m gone and did I ever hurt them in ways I was unaware of?

When will I get the urge to finish all those projects I started and never finished? Like, sorting the kids’ artwork from the last 7 years into those fun albums my mother-in-law gave me, and finishing the gallery wall I started?

Why don’t we travel more as a family? And why is waking up to exercise so stinkin’ hard some (most) days?

Sometimes I stay in a place of recollection and I think back to the times when I’ve stifled my daughters God-given uniqueness in a selfish attempt to get my way. When I’ve silenced them and been too self-absorbed to see that they were only expressing themselves as the beautiful tiny humans that they are. When will I learn that these are the moments to savor in life, and give them grace to be children?

On other days, I am present to the point of pausing. I find myself breathing slowly, talking less and observing all that is beautiful around me. I see my children play together and imagine and create and fall and laugh and boss each other around and I feel complete. Whole. I feel peace.

I have come to learn and accept that routines serve me well. That my soul craves predictability and it’s almost freeing in a sense to be bound to a pattern. Like my soul knows what’s next and there is freedom to do the thing without feeling pressured to do the thing.

That the balance and rhythm I have found with working part-time is kind of like when I was a stay-at-home-mom trying to build a network marketing team. There are pockets in my day of meaningful contribution to a greater mission than my own (that would be my job, which for the record, is such a blessing and a gift to me – for the first time in my life I wake up and say I get to go to work today rather than I have to go to work today. It’s a game-changer, people). And deeper pockets in that same day spent contributing to the lives of the tiny humans God blessed me to care for. Seeing the joy on their faces when their school day has ended. Watching Sadler do her homework and witnessing her growth right before my very eyes.

How my word for 2019 — intentional — has played out. And is still playing out.

Intentionally taking off the notifications from my phone. Ohmygracious the visual peace on my  home screen and the elimination of distractions in my day – joy and magic for real, y’all.

Deleting Facebook. And only wishing I had it back when I wanted to sell something on Marketplace. Aside from that, I haven’t missed a single second of it.

Making a habit of washing my face and moisturizing it before bedtime every night. Yes, believe it or not, I did not do that for 36 years. Gross, yes. Ridiculous, yes. But true, also yes.

Choosing books over TV. And choosing to read books that grow me, push me, awaken me, feed me. Realizing that what goes in our mind’s eye is what comes out of our mouth, because that’s what gets down into our heart. The bible tells us to guard it for a reason.

There is a ton of room in the margin for me to be intentional about much, much more. There’s time yet. But what I do know is the good just gets better when I put a little effort into showing up with intention.

And to tie this rambling up with a bow: here are things I love in this season…ok, maybe some of them I have loved forever.

The beach. The Enneagram. A big soft blanket. Hot tea. The farmer’s market on Saturday mornings. Plants in my house. Sunrises. Mandolin Orange. Sitting by a fire (soon enough). Hearing my kids laugh. Sadler’s homemade jokes. My husband’s smile. Reading the gospels. The Lazy Genius’s Change Your Life Chicken. The thought of taking a morning run every  morning.

There’s always something to be grateful for.

xo,

Candice

10 Things Learned While Hanging Out In The Airport

I’ve been in San Diego for a work conference since Wednesday. When this trip was planned back in January, it only made sense to take advantage of being on the West coast and extend my time here with a mini-vacation with Reid. With friends in San Francisco that we rarely get to see, it was an easy decision to book a flight to get Reid out here, too.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 10AM today. It was a packed flight, and because of this, the airline was looking for a volunteer to give up their seat in exchange for a $450 voucher. I volunteered without hesitation and prepared myself to spend the next 7 hours hanging out in the San Diego airport.

Here’s what today taught me:

  1. Being flexible pays off. Recently, Reid and I made the decision to cancel a trip to NYC for a wedding so that we could attend a marriage conference instead. We were out $400 when this decision was made but felt our marriage was worth it. Today’s decision got my $400 back, plus some.
  2. Wearing a shirt that says “Jesus” on it will get you lots of looks, questions and seemingly extra kindness from complete strangers. It also allows you to somehow get through security without a boarding pass without hesitation.
  3. I love babies. I love smiling at them. And when they smile back, I melt a little.
  4. Eating both breakfast and lunch in the airport won’t provide the best-tasting food, or the best prices in town for that matter. My $13 yogurt and granola would have been better with a $17 Bloody Mary. But paying more for a drink than for breakfast just didn’t seem right to me.
  5. Having someone to talk to whilst waiting for your flight makes the time pass with more joy. I was thankful that my co-worker was willing to be my airport buddy and talk about life with me this morning.
  6. Sometimes, we think we’re over something from our past. But sometimes, we talk about those same things from our past and we cry. Unexpectedly.
  7. People-watching is best done in an airport. Or an amusement park. But an airport offers good watching for sure.
  8. Airports should have nap pods.
  9. Not all TSA workers are grumpy people. I’ve been treated with more kindness than I expected, and even met a TSA worker from Greensboro, who went to high school less than a mile from my house. (He asked me about my shirt and where I got it. Hence #2 on this list.)
  10. People really are addicted to their cell phones. It’s actually kind of crazy to look around and see everyone so captivated by a handheld device. There could be naked people walking around and no one would even notice. Even the kids around me are on some sort of tablet or phone. Very little conversation, yet so much noise.

I’m ready to explore San Francisco, kiss my husband and hug my friends. I miss my children immensely but appreciate what so much alone time can offer. It’s like pressing a reset button in the soul. Sometimes you don’t know what you need until you do something of the path of the plan.

Stay classy, San Diego airport. Until next time…