Halfway There

Last night I completed my first year of grad school.  I finished my finals for summer school and the next time I step in the classroom I'll be a "Second Year" which is bossy-talk for "Senior".  BOOM.

Granted, I have lots of work in the next two weeks finishing up "Supervision" requirements and beginning compilation of my "professional portfolio" which is a lot of busy work that amounts to a giant binder full of accomplishments and rigamarole that hardly anyone will care to lay eyes on.  Whew. Still, I'm sure in a year or so I'll be glad I've started organizing this information (or so they tell me) and either way, it'll get done.

So, I'M HALFWAY THERE.  Halfway to being an official "Marriage and Family Therapist".  One year away from a Master's Degree.  Unreal.

I am so thankful for any and all of you which have inspired me, encouraged me, and all around supported me through your prayers and words of affirmation.  I don't say it lightly when I tell you I could absolutely not accomplish this without the help of many.  So, GOOD WORK TEAM!  We're halfway there!

I can't tell you how much I need to be halfway done with this journey.  It's hard to convey the toll that sleepless nights, mountains of reading, and stressful test-taking have taken on me.  It's a paradox of effort - both growing in my passion and knowledge of something I desire to learn; and at the same time, stumbling around at times to grasp the courage and stamina to pursue such.  In a way, it's the longest labor of my life.

Parents - remember having a newborn? (Or maybe you have one right now!)  How much you want to stay awake, staring at that sweet baby, soaking up every single moment that you just can't bear to let pass without your acknowledging its beauty...And then, maybe minutes/hours later, dragging your shell-of-a-self out of bed to answer the cries of that baby's every need, every moment, every time, knowing you should have been sleeping while they were sleeping earlier and resenting the fact that you're resenting your own baby for keeping you awake AT ALL TIMES whether they are doing it out of their need or their sheer cuteness?  There's no regrets to staring at a baby, yet there's no replacement for energy/sanity/motivation in that moment of exhaustion. You can't win, and yet you win every time.

Sigh.  I get that.  I felt that with my babies, and I sort of feel that way now.  I want to study and read and learn every single thing that I can possibly absorb in this two-year adventure...yet, I know full well that I have got to step back and balance the priorities and be more-than-okay with accomplishing only what's within my grasp.  And the reality is (just as in parenthood) this is only the beginning.  The adventure doesn't stop at two-years, it really only gets better and better.

More learning will come.  The reading is endless.  The writing will not stop.  And, the cycle of learning-makes-me-humble-making-me-a-better-therapist-making-me-more-humble-making-me-a-better-therapist will continue throughout the rest of my life, I'm sure.  True growth demands humility.

I've never been more excited and more exhausted since becoming a mother for the first time.  Getting my Master's (at this time in my life, especially) is rich with complaint and celebration.  I can whine a lot about the homework, the amount of time it all takes, the stress and pressure it adds to my weary brain...but, never let me lead you astray - I freaking LOVE it.

God has put me in this place and time for this specific purpose, and I am having a glorious time being challenged and compelled and stretched beyond my imagination.  I had no idea I could accomplish the things I've done in the last year - and it's only by the grace of God and the help of others (yes, YOU) that I've even attempted these things.

I'm pretty stoked on what the next year holds for me.  I know it will be insane, challenging, busy, and full of moments of insecurity.  But, I have no doubt that I will be surprised by how God will use my journey to teach me more about who He is, and who He wants me to be - and maybe there will be something along the way that will speak to your heart too!

Let's do this!

Proverbs 16:3

Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will succeed.

Before Motherhood

This weekend, I will celebrate Mother's Day like many of you out there.  I'm so grateful for my two girls who make the day a blessing to me.  But...it wasn't always this way.  I can remember the days of longing for a baby and cringing at those who were celebrated around me, feeling the sting of not being yet-initiated into the mommy club.

This post is for you.  This post is for those yet-to-be-celebrated, those still longing for a child of their own, those who will cringe this weekend and wear fake smiles while aching with envy and grief inside.

Here is an excerpt from a another project I wrote where I relive those moments of jealousy, rage, and confusion.  It's okay to feel those things.  It's normal.  And I'm praying that God's timing will bring you the greatest source of comfort and joy you've ever known...

It’s a cruel joke and no exaggeration to say that when you finally decide wholeheartedly to pursue something, you start to see it everywhere.  The entire world seemed pregnant except for me.  Anywhere I turned I ran into strollers, bumped into babies, and knocked into protruding pregnant bellies.  It was like, in all my effort to conceive, I had somehow developed a special radar system to be able to spot a baby bump from a mile away.  Strangers, neighbors and close friends were all popping up pregnant, month after month.  Some were surprises, some had been a long time coming, but all were announced with explosive enthusiasm in a grand spectacle just short of a small-town parade.  At least, that is exactly how it felt to me.

With each new pregnancy that was announced, I felt like one more of my own eggs just dried up inside me.  She won this month and I lost again.  She gets a baby, I don’t.  She has new life in her, and I’m harboring nothing but envy.

I distinctly recall one day that I was walking to my car to go home after work.  It had been a particularly exhausting day and all I wanted was to curl up on my couch with a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and a rerun of Frasier (my “go to” tv-therapy) when I spotted her: a beautifully pregnant stranger, belly in full blossom, waddling to her car in all her knocked-up glory.  I had never met her and didn’t recognize her at all.  Poor soul was probably some lovely wife of a faculty member who most likely taught a Bible class of sorts, I’m sure.  Nevertheless, lovely as she was, I couldn’t take it anymore.  Salt water started to well up in my eyes, rage clenched the air from my throat, bitterness crippled my hands into useless claws, and in one purely horrific moment of self, I silently spewed the only words that felt familiar to me in that moment:  I hate you.

I felt like my entire insides had rotted out and failed me to the core.  All my joy and hope in conceiving the next great miracle from God had been replaced by ugly, controlling selfishness, anger and jealousy.  Of course, I didn’t really hate her.  I didn’t even know the sweet gal, bless her heart, who was surely gestating what I can only imagine to be the next Billy Graham in her bulging belly.  I’m so sorry, dear woman, for pegging you as my target for hatred that day.  But, you should know, it was not in vain.

That moment of disgusting self-loathing opened my eyes to a vital understanding:  I had no control. This sounds simple.  This sounds like something as obvious as gravity.  But, like gravity, sometimes it takes an apple (or in my case, a pregnant-lady-encounter) hitting you in the head to accept it as reality and see how it really applies to your life.

I had been living in the illusion of control.  Counting days, charting numbers, calculating possibilities and conjuring up multiple justifications for each and every potential scenario that could present itself.  I couldn’t help but feel like if I could just figure out what I had done or not done in the month prior, then I could fix it and find myself pregnant in the next round.  My head new that it was by God’s hand alone that a baby would be created, but my heart’s habits died hard.  My heart knew what it longed for, what was at stake, and what was being risked each month:  The possibility that I might not get what I wanted most.
It wasn’t necessarily that my actions had to change, but my perception of what I was pursuing and how it so deeply affected me on a daily basis needed a major adjustment.  I had delicately fallen into a trap of thinking that if I did A + B, then naturally, C will occur.  Because that’s how it “should” go.  Because that’s “normal”.  Because that’s what I “deserve”.

And then it hit me.  I wasn’t just questioning my emotions here…I was questioning God.  The illusion of control had led me along a path where I was left staring down an unknown road with a pretend map I had drawn with a broken compass.  What if I’m never pregnant?  What if I don’t get the future I want?  Which, if we are really being honest here, is essentially asking the real question:  Do I believe God is truly good?
That might be hard to admit.  Questioning God’s goodness sounds like a huge leap from asking Him when I can start registering for bottles and bassinets.  But, if the goodness of my future hinged on the notion that I bore a child or not, and I believed that God only wanted what was good and best for my future, then I couldn’t have it both ways.  Was I really choosing between having a baby or believing God?  Certainly not.  I had spent too many hours praying about my desire for a family for God to ignore the request.  God knew me.  God loved me.  God understood that this longing in my being also encompassed a pursuit of His will for my life.  So, then, if God was good and it was good for me to want to become a mother…Where’s my baby?

It was time to relinquish control.  This is kind of an oxymoron, really.  The control was never really in my grasp to begin with.  My future is mine, and it is affected by the decisions and consequences of my actions, but there comes a time when you have to face your relationship with your Creator and allow Him to function through you instead of just around you.  God doesn’t “need” us, after all.  He is perfect and complete and entirely capable (this would be the “omni” part of Him) without our hot-mess-of-a-human-existence meddling about in this crazy world He built.  But He is a gracious God that engages with us, works through us, and allows us the incredible opportunity to lay down ourselves and pursue a plan worthy of His glory.

And so, as the saying goes, “I let go and let God” take over.

Maybe not much changed on the outside.  But, on the inside, I was transformed.  My prayers stopped being about ovulation and started being about peace.  I stopped obsessing about my basal body temperature and started dreaming about the hopeful future of how God would shape us into parents, even if it wasn’t exactly how we thought it might go.  My heart had gone from eager to rigid to numb, and was now thawing to the idea that “God’s best” was worth waiting for and my timeline was just that:  mine.  And I felt the raw and honest reality that truly, I wanted nothing to do with me.  

If was prepping to be a parent, to take on the task of somehow raising a child of God as my very own, then certainly I was in need of much more Jesus and much less Emily with every minute He made me “wait”.  This period of waiting didn’t seem unbearable like it had in the past.  Sitting still in acceptance and peace, suddenly felt the most active of all the months of trying so far.  It wasn’t easy.  It wasn’t even fun (as terrible as it is, the futile actions I had become accustomed to while living in the illusion of control had brought me frantic joy, allowing me to think that I was actively participating in the creation of something that was beyond my efforts in reality).  But, living in the moment of relinquished control brought me unfathomable relief that I hadn’t felt since before we ever had uttered the word “baby”. 

I still didn’t have an answer as to why God was “making me wait”…but, I rested wholly in the security of knowing that God knew, and God’s goodness justified His reasons, and Him being God and all pretty much summed up any other questions I had for Him and His lack of sharing his Google calendar with me (assuming God uses Google).  I wasn’t avoiding the stress of trying to conceive a baby…I was just giving it to God instead.  

Dèjà Vu

The packing has begun!  How is it possible that I am sitting among boxes and bubble wrap again!?  It was only 8 months ago that we reduced our household to a 16 foot moving truck and traversed 2,000 miles to start a new life in a new location...and now, we're packing again!

I'll admit, there are about a zillion ways in which this move is easier.  For starters, we're only moving about 2 miles away instead of 2,000.  And most of all, we're not bidding a tearful good-bye to an entire lifestyle and community of people and places we hold dearly in our hearts.  I'm soooo glad I (please, Lord) never have to do that again.

But, as we settled in to our little abode, we've managed to accumulate plenty of stuff that now has to be sorted, piled, boxed, and moved.  The process of carrying our life two miles down the road is more annoyance than anything else.  Lucky for me, as a mother of two little ones, I've been mastering the art of inconvenience for a while now.

After weeks of explaining that "packing up and moving" did not equal "saying goodbye to the life you know" to my daughters, we're finally on an upswing of understanding what this stressful time is all about.  This is all a MAJOR UPGRADE for us, and one that kind of blindsided us suddenly with an avalanche of blessing.  While we're not gaining much square footage, we're adding a big yard (fenced!) to our lives, as well as an additional room that will promptly be turned into go-yell-and-scream-in-there-and-play-until-you-drop-toyland space.  Yes, I can't wait until my girls get their little play room (which means that yes, they will still be sharing a bedroom.)

All this to say, our lives have been turned a little upside down for the time being, but in a wonderful way.  The chaos reminds us that not only do we not know what the future holds, but we don't know what blessings are around the bend either.  God is always working behind the scenes for our good and His glory, and I don't want this crazy time to distract me from the fact that this is a ridiculous GIFT that I can't wait to use however God allows.

I'm praying for God to really show us how this home and space can be used to benefit others, how we can appropriately and cheerfully get to know our neighbors, and for God to reveal how this whole shebang fits into His plan for our life as a family.  Buying a house was surprisingly one of the least stressful events of my life, and I never thought something so major could go so smoothly.  Clearly, God has plans for this move that are bigger than anything a Medium Uhaul Box could ever contain.

I'm placing our belongings into boxes, taping them up, awaiting the move this weekend that will forever shape the course our family takes.  But, as I sift through our stuff, I want to remain focused on the unseen, and I pray that this process helps mold me into the homeowner that represents more than someone who just pays a mortgage each month.  I don't know what all is in store for us in our new little neighborhood two miles down the road...but, one thing is for certain.  It's not the distance travelled that changes your life, it's the willingness to be moved that makes the difference.

Move me, Lord.

...Six Months Later

We have officially lived in Nashville for half a year!  Can you believe it?

Only six months ago we drove our entourage into this new city and called it our own.  We traveled over 2,000 miles with two toddlers and all our belongings and no job and staked claim on a new life that we fully entrusted to God.  We were full of more questions than answers, with weary hearts that grieved the loss of our friends and family in California, and excited souls ready to embrace a new chapter ahead.

Having moved across the country four times now, I thought I knew what to expect.  I tell myself that it takes time to make friends, to get to know my way around, to be patient with finding a church to call home, to not hold my breath when it comes to waiting until it feels like home home and not just some place I now have to ship all my Amazon packages to.  I've always told people that I feel like it takes a good two years before a new place feels familiar or comfortable.

But, I have to tell you, this has been the easiest move of my life.  Nashville is home.

Six months is a blink to be able to say something like that.  It feels like when I was dating my husband and falling head over heels before I could look him in the eye without giggling or wanting to burst into song.  It may have been too soon to say "I love you"...or get engaged...or get married...but, when it's right it's right.  And my move to Nashville feels like a nice old sneaker that's come back into style.  It feels right, looks great, and just fits.  Ahh.

The Pardys are loving Nashville.

Don't get me wrong.  I miss California desperately.  I miss my friends the most, of course, and there are times I weep just by texting them or seeing a Facebook update from someone.  [I'm tearing up now just thinking about it!]  In a perfect world, all my favorite people would be in ONE place, or we would own private jets, or we could all teleport!  In my ideal universe, the ocean would be 15 minutes away, there would be no traffic, and I would have a standing date with my best friends each week no matter where they lived.

But, if I can't have everything I want all in one place, I can sit still and be so grateful that I get to have it all on one globe.  To think that people fiercely love me and pray for me and my family from miles and miles away is such an incredible gift that it makes friendship over distance totally worthwhile.  (Also, not having to ever sit in LA traffic is pretty great too! Haha)

We've already learned so much since being here.  We've seen God break us, heal us, challenge us, push us, and humble our hearts in multiple ways.  I've started grad school, Josh has a new job, and the girls are thriving in their new environment and going to start preschool one day a week next year.  We are busier than ever, depending on God more than ever, and excited about our future as a couple and family.  God has already brought amazing hope in new friendships and surrounded us with encouragers that point us to Jesus.  We are grateful to have found a wonderful church and looking forward to deepening more relationships in the new year.

Six months goes by so fast.  Just a year ago I was studying for the GRE and just beginning the application process to grad school.  Our daily lives have changed dramatically, and I miss the interactions in our old community with the people we "lived life with".  But, as I hold those memories and reflect on what a treasure that time in California was for us, it makes me all the more eager to wonder what is in store for us here.

What are you most excited about in the coming year?  How has your life changed in the last 6 months? Year?

As we countdown the days to Christmas and the New Year ahead, join me in thanking God for getting us through the ups and downs of 2013.  The fact that we are all here, supporting each other and living life "together" even in this small way is a testament to His faithfulness in the days ahead.

The New Job

My husband has a new job!  After three-and-a-half months of waiting, Josh started his new job yesterday (can I get a Hallelujah?)!

Time to dust off those dress shoes!

Because so many of you walked this journey with us, I wanted to let you know how truly incredible God is in granting us the opportunity of this new job.  The first day for him to put on a tie and show up on time and meet with new people and earn a paycheck started yesterday...but, in reality, the beginning of this job started long before.

About a month after we moved here, we saw a listing for a job at the new school where Josh is working.  He was really interested in the school, but in complete honesty, he wanted to head into a Marketing position, and the job that was posted was not in marketing.  He was qualified for the job, however, so we began to pray about it.

For one, beggars can't be choosers...and we needed a job.  More than that, however, we decided as a team that we couldn't limit God to what we wanted.  How did we know what God had in store?  Who were we to try and cage God into the scope of our view?  God is so, so much bigger.  And, holding onto the truth that God wants the best for us, Josh humbly applied for the posted position.

Six weeks later, long after we thought the time had passed to even be considered for the position, Josh got a call to interview.  By the third interview, weeks into the process, something extraordinary happened:  the Head of the School had noticed that his gifts seemed to be steered toward creative ideas, and that he had real strength in brand management.  Little did we know, they were already considering bringing on a new person in Marketing full-time...and suddenly they were interested in Josh for a completely different position.

Josh came home that day awestruck, and we were dumbfounded at how God was working behind the scenes on our behalf.  Our journey of faith that took us 2,000 miles and three months into an unknown future were culminating into dreams we never imagined possible.  It wasn't going to magically resolve all our questions or dilemmas, but it was going to prove the unchanging faithfulness of God's direction in our life yet again.

The first day on the job was wonderful.  He is sipping from a blasting fire hose of new information, no doubt, every first-day-on-the-job feels overwhelming and exhilarating at first.   But, each person he has met has welcomed him with joy and affirmation.  He's right where he's meant to be, learning and growing and excited to use the talents that God has instilled in him.

We don't yet know the full extent that this new job holds for Josh.  Every job has its difficulties, and I'm sure as time goes on this one will present it's own challenges in one way or another.  Faithfulness does not make one immune to uncomfortableness...in fact, it inevitably secures it.  But, right now we are so grateful to be resting in the assurance that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.

Thank you, again, to all of you who have supported us through this crazy time in our lives.  We knew that at some point we would find our "new normal" and it feels like we are finally hitting our stride in our new city.  I know it will take months to continue to adjust to the changes...but, for now, the changes  have plateaued to a palatable level.

If you are waiting on God...if you are searching for answers...if you are frustrated by lack of direction...wait.  Time is a real element that God utilizes for His plans.  Time is never wasted when it grows faithfulness.  And time is sometimes all that's standing between you and the great big God that is working behind the scenes on your behalf.  Hang on.

Remembering

Today, we remember the events of 9/11.  We pray for those still grieving, we thank those who became heroes that day, we seek hope for all.  We each have our own story, our own personal version of how that tragic day forever changed our lives and our perspectives on the world.

There are still a lot of questions.  There are still a lot of emotions that don't make it feel like it was twelve years ago.  This world is a crazy, ever-changing, non-stop entity that so often feels like it is spinning out of our control.

But, while we all cling to hope and seek out answers and hold hands in this struggle to survive on this planet together, I'm reminded of one singular truth that keeps me focused on a day when I'm recalling so much confusion:  we have an unchanging God who lovingly rules over this ever-changing world.

This is my Father's World.

Here are the lyrics to the hymn with that title, and I hope they bring you hope as we all remember today.

This is my Father's world, and to my listening ears all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought. 

This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker's praise. 

This is my Father's world, he shines in all that's fair; in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere. 

This is my Father's world. O let me ne'er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. 

This is my Father's world: why should my heart be sad? The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let the earth be glad!

Waiting

How many of you are waiting on something?

Maybe you are waiting on a job, like we are.  Maybe you are waiting on getting pregnant.  Waiting on an adoption to go through.  Waiting on a call from your doctor.  Waiting for your boyfriend to propose. Waiting to hear back from that school/program/organization you're hoping to get into.  Waiting on your order at Chipotle.  (Hey, it counts!)

Chances are, there are several out there who are waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from God about something that will epically change your life, for better or for worse.  My husband has been unemployed for over two months now, and this is not the first time God has made us wait and wonder as to what His plan may hold.  Still, patience continues to be a quality that I'm constantly in need of.

About five years ago, we were waiting for another reason.  We were trying to get pregnant.  We had been extraordinarily deliberate in our plan to have a baby, seeking the counsel of others personally and professionally to help us in the decision to jump into the murky and unknown waters of "trying".

Months went by, and I was still not pregnant.  There had never been any fertility issue on either side of our family, so when we first jumped into the ring we naively supposed we'd be making grand announcements within the first few months.  And, so, we began down an emotional roller coaster that kept us on our toes two-weeks-at-a-time.

In effort for my husband to truly grasp the emotional toll that this process was taking on me, I remember making an analogy for him.  Not getting pregnant, for me, is like unsuccessfully job hunting for a man. It's like, every time I see a pregnant woman out there, I think "Why HER?"  Clearly, I'm qualified for the position!  I'm perfect for it, I have all the experience and credentials I need.  And every time I'm not pregnant it's like someone rejecting you for a job you're overqualified for.

I can remember a conversation with a close confidant about 9 months into our journey.  I remember telling her how, when we'd first began to try to get pregnant, this would have been the month we had a baby.  It was weird.  I ached and longed to hold my own child, so it felt like there was no reason at all for God to have delayed the gratification.  I remember this person telling me "But, just think, when you finally do get pregnant, it will all make sense.  You'll look back and think 'Ah!  This is why God made us wait!'"

Now, I know that there are readers out there who are experiencing infertility, even waiting, who are currently in the midst of devastation.  I know that my story can seem like nothing compared to others who go through years and years of trials and hardships - so, I am in NO way trying to say that I know how that feels.  I don't.

But, when you are in the midst of it - when I was crying out to God on my bathroom floor after getting my period each month, when I was weeping and cursing and questioning "Why not me? Why not now?"...all there is is either "baby" or "no baby"...there's no timeframe or logic or end in sight.  So, all that to say, the year it took us to get pregnant felt like an eternity to me.

The year came to an end, and my first "fertility" appointment got changed to a "pre-natal" appointment. And even after I gave birth to a perfectly gorgeous baby 9 months later...I still had no idea why God made us wait.  I still wondered why in the world I couldn't have just surpassed all that pain and ended up with my gorgeous baby the year before?  What difference did it make, God, really?

Well...fast-forward to today, and here's one difference:  My husband has spent the last few months getting rejected by jobs he's overqualified for.  And I know just how he feels.

I can't tell you all the reasons God had for the way it all rolled out.  I can't tell you how many lives it altered or how much we really grew as humans or as spouses through that journey.  Some things are simply immeasurable.

But, I can tell you that now I know what it feels like to be married to someone who feels understood because of a time that God brought us through together.  I can tell you that there is a reason (probably many) for the waiting - and that it is not in vain.

Growth is rarely comfortable.  Change is almost never convenient.  But, dependance on God, no matter how long it takes, is always, always productive.  It's not that I have-to-believe-this-cause-I-have-no-other-choice.  My life is a testament to His follow-through!  He is faithful to answer and be with us no matter what the answer is.

You are not alone in your waiting, friends.  And your waiting is not wasted.

Wait on!

First Day of School

OH.Ver.Whelmed.

Wow, guys, I had my first day of school last night.  My classes are only once a week, on Tuesday nights from 5-10pm.  So, I basically spent five hours with my face in front of a fire hydrant last night, trying to gulp more information than my brain could sponge up.

It was overwhelming and exciting, much as I anticipated.  Anytime you get handed a syllabus with an entire schedule laid out of expectations you have no clue as to fulfill, it's going to be mind-boggling.

On top of that, I met the 22 people I'm going to be spending the next 2 years with - my "cohort".  We are all on the same track, taking the same courses, and forging through the same challenges ahead.  To my surprise, there are 21 women...and one very brave guy.  I kinda felt like I was pledging to a sorority!  So, that should make things fun and interesting to say the least.

We got our books, we met our professors, and we scrambled to grasp what exactly we had gotten ourselves into.  The bar is high.  The mountain is steep.  And it's going to be freaking incredible.

One thing is for certain - this is right where I'm supposed to be!  Even as my eyes glazed over at the sight of the syllabi that dared to intimidate me with such words like "clinical conceptualization" or "genograms" or "1st order cybernetics" (I mean, what the crap do these things even MEAN????  Have I just signed up for a course on the Klingon language, or what?) even then my heart beat with a thrill at the thought of the adventure ahead of me.

I have no IDEA what these things are....BUT I'M GOING TO!

I went to bed around 1am after having read part of one of my textbooks.  There's a TON of reading in grad school, and I'm NOT the fastest reader.  There are a lot of challenges ahead of me, and one thing I'm dedicated to is YOU GUYS.  I have a lot on my plate, and you're all going to be along for the ride.

As I drifted off to sleep last night, I felt so thankful for this opportunity.  And, I was reminded of my "life verse" that I chose as a teenager, years ago.  (Do you have a life verse?  Just a motto from the word of God that can be a steadfast reminder for you no matter what stage of life you are in?)  Well, here's mine:

Proverbs 16:3Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.

I can't imagine a better time to wholly commit my actions to God.  It will surely be to His credit that I achieve this feat.  And I thank each and every one of you for your support as we dive into this venture!

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BONUS SNEAK PEEK!

Have you entered the Share & Care Contest yet???  Enter up to three times a day to win a fabulous care package from PARDYMAMA!

Here is a sneak peek at one item in the care package - a pound of coffee beans from one of my new favorite coffee shops in Nashville, Frothy Monkey!  Now, that should perk you up!

Back to School

School buses drive by.  Jeans are on sale.  And the scent of pencil lead and erasers fills the air when you walk into Target.  It can all only mean one thing:  back to school time.

Last night, I went to "Grad School Orientation".  Yup, the rumors are true:  I'm a student again.  As I walked off the elevator and straight into a line to get my Student ID card, it really started to hit me.  I'm a student.  

It's not like I didn't know this was coming.  Eight months ago I began the process of applying to grad school to pursue my Masters in Marriage & Family Therapy (MFT).  It was a grueling process of studying for the GRE (barf), seeking out references, writing an admissions essay, and then having an interview via Skype.  All that, leading up to a single defining moment in my life when I open an email to see the word I'd been crossing my fingers for:  Accepted.

That sealed the deal.  I became a Grad Student right then and there.  But, it wasn't until last night, as I fumbled with the orientation packet in my hands while I waited in line, that I actually felt the magnitude of what I was getting myself into.

I took a seat in a big room filled with dozens of other students, all pursuing post-graduate degrees, but not necessarily the same as mine.  I had flashbacks of my early days as a new Freshman, sizing up these strangers and trying to spot a friendly face among them.  Sure enough, a kind girl that I had stood next to in line for ID cards had already saved me a seat.  Insta-friend.  Nice.

Got my smarty specs on.

We sat through about an hour of some important-guy-in-a-bow-tie drone on about the history of the school, the campus, and various other facts that I'm sure most of us have already forgotten.  (The nerd-for-higher-education in me actually found most of it fascinating, though even I was rubbing my eyes near the end of his lengthy presentation.)

When all was said and done, I had become a member of a new family.  A new class, eager to learn and ready to be challenged.  While most of us seemed nervous and excited, I looked across the room and saw a strange village of people, united by determination if nothing else.  We were all there because we wanted the same thing, essentially:  to better ourselves in order to create a difference.  

Yep.  This is right where I'm suppose to be.

Time to hit the books.

*Next week I'll be sharing all about why I decided to go back to school!

My City pt 1

It's been two months since we started our journey of 2,000 miles cross-country and moved from California to Tennessee.  I lived in Nashville years ago, so part of this move has felt like a strange homecoming of sorts for me.  If any of you are sci-fi fans, you can appreciate the thought of this process feeling like I was entering into an alternate universe (think, Fringe-style).

It is familiar, I can remember my way around...and then all of a sudden I will see new buildings out of place, or a renovation of something completely new, or old spaces filled up with unrecognizable structures.  It's been a weird, comfortable-yet-uncomfortable combination of getting to re-learn this city I once knew.

I can tell you this, we're right where we should be.  We're home, and that's probably the strangest comfortable-yet-uncomfortable feeling of them all.  I fit in here.  My spouse and children fit in here.  My family was a wandering puzzle piece that is slowly completing the picture of what this city should look like.

I say that seriously, because I truly believe God has HUGE plans for using us Pardys in this city, and why not dream big?  We're only beginning to settle into this pond that God will generate a ripple-effect from.  Since we're handing this vision of impact over to Him, I'm not limiting its boundaries!

When one of our dearest friends visited last week, we got to finally (after weeks of unpacking and healing and settling in) GET OUT and see this city.  It was time to show off Nashville and sink our teeth into some of the many fun things this city has to offer.

Now, I can't show you everything - that would take years (which I slowly intend on doing through the course of my time here).  But, starting tomorrow, I'll virtually give you all a little tour of our new city, Music City and some of my very favorite spots.

Sure, I've only been back a couple months - you can probably get more information from Yelp or Travel Advisor, but stick around if you want the ten-cent-Pardy tour.

Welcome to Nashville, y'all.

Roadtrip

We just packed up our lives.  We’re moving from California to Nashville, TN.  BACKTRACK here.

Josh and I had a long road ahead of us.  We romanticized the idea of traveling the 1,300 miles to get to our girls on the way to moving to Nashville.  I mean, who doesn’t love the idea of a roadtrip?! 

Road TRIP!!!!  Tunes and snacks galore, not to mention the many mindless hours to just chill and see God’s creation.  It all seems so poetic until you are actually on the road and you just find yourself eating out of boredom and having to pee all the time.  Not exactly the pioneering paradise we dreamt about. 

I’ll admit, I was mostly clinging to my husband’s expectations.  This was actually my fourth time to drive cross-country, and so I knew the lack-luster feeling of just wanting to GET THERE.  As much as I tried to revive the Jack Kerouac in me, I grew anxious and annoyed with each mile, trying to summon my patience with beef jerky and twizzlers. 

We stopped at his folks in Arizona the first night.  That was emotional in and of itself, because it would be the last of the good-byes that fell into the category of “not-knowing-exactly-when-we-will-see-you-next” and I just hate that.  It’s always so much easier to say good-bye when you can at least tell yourself how long it will be until you say hello again.  But, we forged ahead, 6 hours down, and many more to go.

About 13 hours later we ended up in Tucumcari, NM.  We stayed at a crappy hotel (hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em) where I’m pretty sure there was a coyote graveyard in the back and meth being sold in the ditch out front.  In other words, it was lovely.  But, we survived and showered, and got back on the road as soon as possible.  About 5 more hours into the next day, we got a flat tire on the moving trailer.

Now, let me tell you, if you are going to break down somewhere, you probably aren’t going to want it to be in a place named Hooker (Oklahoma).  But, seeing as we had no choice to the matter, we did break down there.  So, as we waited for Penske to come to our rescue, I climbed up into the moving truck and kept Josh and the cats company.

Ah, yes – didn’t I mention?  We were traversing with 2 CATS.  They were just as giddy about the long car rides as I was (okay, not even that much) and thrilled to be parked on the side of a windy highway where we were suddenly at a halt.  Ugh.  The only thing worse than sitting in a car and traveling at a slow pace is sitting in a car and not moving at all. 

But, we made it.  Penske came to our rescue, changed out the tire, and we were back on the road having lost only our patience and two hours of travel time.  All in all, we were grateful to be in one piece and keeping our cats alive.  Not only that, but we were inching our way closer to sweet reunion with our girls.

I’ve never been happier to see such silly, squealing girls.  They ran out to greet us, and it was like Christmas and my birthday all in one.  They looked bigger and louder and much more happy than I remembered them.  They molded like butter into my arms, and my aching heart that was so empty from all the good-byes in California was urgently bursting with completion. 

Our family was together.  Our family was whole again.  Our family was ready to embark on the final adventure towards our new life.

Nashville or bust.

Backtrack

It’s been too long since I’ve written.  I can always tell when it’s been too long because I start to second-guess myself and avoid the idea of writing and then stalling and stalling and stalling until the inevitable finally occurs.  I can tell it’s been too long when I start to wonder if I should, or if it’s worth it, or if I even need to…when, clearly, I can’t live without it.  So, here I am; enduring and persevering through the insecurities of getting back into the swing of a new normal.

In case you haven’t heard (or are stumbling upon this somehow) I just moved across the country.  Not just me, but my husband and two young daughters (and oh yeah, two cats) as well.  I’ll be rolling out several posts about how this all came about, how we did it, and what life consists of now. 

If you’ve been reading the blog regularly, then you might see a few changes coming.  I’m hoping to start posting more often, though possibly in shorter form.  I, maybe just like you, don’t have gobs and gobs of free time (if you are shrugging at this irrelevance to your own life, then perhaps this blog is not for you after all) and so, I’m hoping to work towards the art of brevity yet meet with you more often.  How does that sound?  (As always, flying by the seat of my jammie pants here.)

Anywho…us Pardys have recently trekked 2,000 miles from California to Tennessee, and are on this-side-of-the-brink of starting a brand, spanking new life.  Crazyville.  It’s still a little much for me to comprehend.

I don’t know where else to start except “move-out day”.  Boy, was it a humdinger.  I had just flown to Kansas to drop my girls off at my folks for a few days while (according to plan) I would fly back to California, load up our lives into a 16-foot Penske truck with my beloved, and haul east.  I had never been away from my girls for more than 24 hours before, so this was new territory for my emotions in a multitude of ways.

I believe this is what you call "to the gills"

Flying back to California was emotional enough.  It hit me upon my descent into LAX that this was, for the last time, my final flight “home to California”.  From this point forward, I would forever be considered a visitor instead of a resident, and that was difficult to accept. 

My husband picked me up from the airport and we set out to have dinner (disregarding that it was already midnight) at our favorite Thai restaurant in LA.  (Please, someone visit Toi Rockin Thai on Gardner and Sunset and send my regards to the Thai Spicy Spaghetti.)  We just had to.  It was our last chance.  Plus, our kids were 1,300 miles away, it just felt wrong to not fit in a date somehow!

When I got home for the last time and walked into our apartment, it became clear to me that I had entered a twilight zone of sorts.  This was not my home.  This was a series of rooms filled with memories and mere remnants of somewhat-recognizable objects.  My emotions were engaged with the location, but my senses were entirely confused by the surroundings.  Boxes and bare carpet.  Disassembled furniture.  Suitcases and cords.  This was a barren land of a life that was ending…and that life was ours, our California life together.  It was sad and weird and uncomfortable.  And it was just the final motivation I needed to force myself to forge through the next 24 hours.  No one would want to stay in that kind of uncomfortability for long.

I won’t relive it entirely.  I can’t.  Waking up the next day to a series of goodbyes and the sheer, physical labor of packing up a moving truck was too much for me to ever want to think about doing again.  It sucked, bottomline.  I had to put my best friends to work, packing and stuffing everything familiar into a giant box on wheels, and then hug them goodbye.  It’s hard to say which I went through more that day – duct tape or tears.  I wanted to take one last look at everyone and everything and engage all my senses into everything I saw so it would be impossible to forget.  I did the best I could.  I hope it was enough to remember.

And then.  Deep breath.  We left.

Tears streaming down my face, I looked out the back window of my car one final time, my sad friends waving and the sun glaring and my vision getting all foggy in my steamy glasses, and I pulled forward and out into the open road that suddenly looked entirely different to me.  The street I had lived on for so many years was now just the road out of town.  It was no longer home. 

Home was many, many miles away.  My heart was going to have to catch-up to it.

Boxes

It's early.  I should still be asleep, but something in me just decided to get up and start the day while it is still quiet.  I just stood in the doorway of our back patio and let the cool breeze of the morning seep through the screen door as I hit the button on our coffee maker and let the aroma clench my senses awake.

I feel like I'm in a Folgers commercial.  The house has yet to stir, but the mother wakes up and stretches, getting a moment of peace to herself.  That's totally me right now, except the lighting's not as good and my skin looks worse/normal than those chipper ladies on TV.  My hair's askew, my breath is terrible, and there are no sunbeams piercing through the window putting a perfect glimmer on my coffee mug.  But, there is peace.  There is quiet.  And that's just as miraculous as any of those other things around here.

And then I turn around.  Whoa.  This is definitely not a commercial set.

Boxes, packing tape, bubble wrap, and a zillion other items that separate normal every day life from the sudden "moving squalor" that has taken over my home.  "Where am I?" I wonder.

The beginning of the end is here.  The first of the last of things has begun.  And as we get minute-by-minute closer to our impending move across country to Nashville, Tennessee, everything about living here is getting more and more special and more and more unsettling.  It's all just so very weird.

The art, books, CDs, and DVDs are packed.  The tops of both our bedroom closets are packed.  Even the covers on our light switches and plug-ins are removed.  And suddenly I feel like I'm living in a Whoville home after the Grinch has come and stolen all but the last can of Who-Hash.  He's left hooks and wires dangling uselessly, making me scratch my head as to what had belonged there before and why it ever mattered.

It's amazing what you can live without for weeks.  As you can imagine, nothing makes you evaluate and re-evaluate your things more than having to remove them from their home and suddenly be stored away in a receptacle that will get them from point A to point B.  I don't know how many times over the last several days I've said "We own this?" or "Where did this come from?" and then gently toss it into the growing Goodwill pile.  It's relieving and bewildering and upsetting all at the same time.

Nothing about moving is pretty.  And we're at that grand point of packing where its all going to get worse before it gets better.  Everything is OUT, yet not quite sorted through or put away.  And, certainly, the mega-question of them all is How in the world will all this fit in a 16-foot truck?  That miracle has yet to be determined!

The final weeks are here.  The packing has begun.  And my heart is caught in the middle of the roller coaster that is dread and excitement, hope and fear, making this experience bittersweet at best.  As I sip my coffee and soak in a moment of this crisp morning silence, I'm simply reminded to stop and stare at the squalor.  I'm reminded to not back down now, not shy away from the messy confrontation of what is happening.

I don't want to miss anything - even the tearful good-bye hugs, or the embarrassing ugly-cry moments, or the chance to tell someone in person what they've meant to me.  Sure, it might look like a nice neat little package on the outside, just like these boxes, but inside is a miscellaneous mess of emotions that some days I can't quite handle.  That's okay too.

So, if you see me in the supermarket with mascara streaming down my face, or you catch me in the In-n-Out drive through stuffing my face with "just one more last In-n-Out burger!", or you get attack-hugged by me and don't know what to say...Just take it.  Just let me.  Just know you are witnessing the beautiful mess of a great big process in an honest life.  Just know that each one of you who reads this, who prays for us, who loves us from near or far - you are all part of this.  You matter to me, and I am packing you up in a neat little box in my heart and taking it with me wherever I go.  It's weird and unsettling, just like life...and just like my crazy home right now.

Now, that I would like to see in a Folgers commercial.  Someone hand me coffee and Kleenex!

NASHVILLE

Very few times in one's life do you get to make an epic announcement.  Declare news that is life-altering.  Shout out a game-changer for all to hear.  Some announcements come with amazing joy and cheerfulness.  Others might bring grief or relief.  This one guarantees all of the above.

I'll cut right to the chase.

We are moving to Nashville, Tennessee.  Boom!  There you have it.  I said it.  We are moving...across the country.  Oh, and did I mention we leave in 6 weeks?  Whewwwww.  Whoa, man.  I can almost hear the bubble of reality shattering in my brain, bursting with whole new realms of worry and excitement.

epic news = epic photo

So, okay-okay-okay, I know what you're thinking:  WHYYYYYY????

The truth is, we've been praying about this a long, long time.  No, neither of us are pursuing a career in Country Music, so let's just squash that rumor before you start fitting me for cowboy boots and a fringed skirt.  As some of you may know, I actually lived in Nashville for about six years...seven years ago (has it really been that long?  Or hasn't that been a lifetime ago?)  And I have family there and friends from those long-lost days who will be an invaluable support as we get acquainted with our new southern surroundings (especially for my native-Californian husband).

We've visited several times through the years and always felt that eventually it would be a wonderful place to end up, raise our girls, and get "settled down" so-to-speak...you know, in a land where people actually "own homes" (a crazy concept out here in California) and might recognize neighbors while out shopping downtown.  All that to say, it seemed like that dream was further in our future for a long time...until, all of a sudden it wasn't.

The craziest reason of all that we are moving to Nashville (I'm literally rolling my eyes as I type this because I still can't quite comprehend it as truth yet) is that I'm going back to SCHOOL.  What!?!  Yessirree.  It's true.  I've been accepted to Lipscomb University's Masters in Marriage and Family Therapy program.  Insane!  (Yes, for those of you wondering what exactly that means, it means becoming an actual licensed Therapist.  A for real Marriage/Family Counselor.)

I figure the cheapest long-term way to get free therapy the rest of my life is simply to become a therapist! (This is a joke...mostly.)

Okay, maybe those aren't my exact motivations.  Ha!  But, just like our dream of moving - we always thought this would be something "later" to come into our lives.  Then, after some key conversations with some mentors last Fall, I discovered Lipscomb's program.  It's a 2 year program and the schedule is amazingly conducive for a full-time mom like myself.  It was of UTMOST importance that I could still engage FULL TIME in my daughters' lives and be their primary caretaker.  This program is a perfect fit!  It's also a Christian university, so I'm excited to learn everything through the lens of a Christian worldview - something very rare and beautiful.

I knew I really wanted to get into this program when I found myself studying Geometry at one in the morning as I studied for the GRE (a grueling 4 hour entrance exam).  I studied my buns off for nine weeks and nearly cried when I found out I passed with the necessary scores.  One essay, three references, a Skyped interview and a partridge in a pear tree later...I was officially in.  Whoa.

This was NOT long ago, people!  This news is all still fresh and unnerving!  And it means we're really truly taking a 2,000 mile leap of faith that God is opening doors in a very specific direction for our family.

Confirmation that this decision is best has trickled down day-by-day.  Within two days of looking online, we got the apartment we wanted.  In fact, it was the only one we applied for (just like my school!) and has everything we wanted and needed.  Amazing.  We've booked a moving truck.  We've even scheduled a flight for me to fly me and the girls to my folks right before the move, have them keep them for a few days (sparing them an extra 30 hours of car time) while I fly back to then drive the long trek from California to Kansas and pick them up before heading the rest of the way to Tennessee.

Lots of puzzle pieces are fitting together.  The picture is getting clearer, for sure.  It hasn't been without some serious pitfalls or doubts along the way, but all of a sudden it is taking shape and coming together.

But, there is still one tiny (okay, massive) and very scary piece that has yet to be filled.  A JOB.  It's true - at this point we are waiting on a job.  PLEASE, if you have a spare prayer, I invite you to ask God to fill in this last puzzle piece for our family.  In fact, my prayer is now a prayer of gratitude in the expectation that God has already provided it ahead of us.  As Josh applies for multiple positions, I'm confident that God has already hand-selected the perfect fit for him.  Still, the wait is HARD!  This whole thing feels simply insane at times!

It's scary.  It's enticing.  It's romantic.  It's bittersweet.  It's overwhelming.  It's downright sad.

This pretty much reflects the spectrum of emotions I'm feeling...but cuter.

This process is a mess.  I understand the appeal of saying "Wahoo!  We're taking on Music City and starting a whole new life!" and how it might appear enviable.  But, let me assure you that I'm amply prepared with a dose of reality and give-me-heartburn-in-the-night experience to remind me how world-altering this move really is.

This will be my fourth move across the country...and hopefully (please God) my last.  The pain of leaving the ones you love is so incredibly heart-wrenching.  While I talk with my friends and family in Nashville, I'm able to focus on the positive, on the joy, on the future gifts and the gratitude of what will be.  But, right now, I just have a lot of very hard good-byes in front of me.  I cry nearly every day at the thought of so many idiosyncrasies that I will miss, so many little details I'm trying my hardest to shove into a corner of my mind that will be locked away forever and stored as an eternal reminder that this time happened and mattered and forever changed me in the most epic and beautiful ways.  (More on that later...I can't start the memories and good-byes just yet! *tear*)

These next several weeks are going to be, in a word, extreme.  Emotions will be heightened, tasks will be never-ending, and worries will continue to be battled hour-by-hour.  But, God is good.  God is gooood.  And we remain trusting and hopeful and obedient to His calling as He continues to lead.

None of this is easy.  But, it's like I've said before:  If you think life is easy, you're probably doing it wrong.

We're moving to Nashville.  You'd think the more I said it, the more I would believe it, right?  It's going to take a while for this all to sink in.  But, there it is.  WOWZER.  I hope you'll stick around for this journey with me!!!  I'm going to need you now more than ever!

C'mon, y'all, let's do this.

Dance Pardy

It was only a matter of time.  A girl can try on only so many tutus before she starts to get ideas in her head.  Dancing ideas, that is.  So, a couple weeks ago when Matilda (3) matter-of-factly informed me that her life vocation had been chosen, I sighed and listened intently with much anticipation.

"Mom-mom.  I am a bee-ree-na.  I go to dance class?"

Dance class.  A ballerina.  Oh boy, here we go.

This venture is such a paradox for me as a parent!  On one hand, I have gut-wrenchingly-adorable visions of pink tulle and toe shoes and sweet buns knotted atop her little head (when that hair finally sprouts, anyway) and little recitals that we can invite our begrudged childless friends to attend.  On the other, I have angst-ridden-jumping-to-ridiculous-future-hypothetical-quandaries that include thoughts of competition, malnourishment, expensive costumes, schedule-burdened weekends, and a host of other delusions that my little three-year-old daughter has no idea to even begin worrying about.  Whew.

Of course, it's my glory and privilege as a parent to want to and get to offer her as much as possible that will take her in the direction to find her calling, her purpose, her joy.  It's also my honor and opportunity to set healthy boundaries, realistic expectations, encourage resiliency, and esteem her efforts no matter the outcome.  No pressure, right?  I mean, all this and I have to check myself that I'm not vicariously placing my own ambitions or shortfalls on her shoulders as well.  Right.  Did I mention she is only three?

What am I getting myself into?

Nevertheless, in the end, that pleading and precocious smile got the better of me and by the end of the week I had booked her for a trial ballet/tap combo class that she could try out for free and see how she liked it before committing to anything too time consuming or expensive.  Within minutes of our arrival, we were hooked.  Maybe it was the shiny wooden floor, maybe it was the princess castle mural, maybe it was the tiny little tap shoes I tied around her ankles, or maybe it was simply the pure elation on my child's face...but, whatever it was, I knew I'd succumb to this adorable new world of little dancers.

I can't help but fear for my child's wants.  It's such a precarious balance, right?  I mean, I don't know any girl who didn't (at one point in her life) want to be a dancer.  They are beautiful.  And, if you've ever seen a live ballet recital or production of the Nutcracker, you know that these creatures are extreme to the average human.  They are lithe, they are fierce, they are lovely.  Dancers (amazingly good ones, anyway) are held to an entirely other-worldly standard and revered for it.  It's awesome and scary all at once.

Of course, that's not exactly what I'm throwing my three-year-old into, I understand that.  She was thrilled to be doing jumping jacks with scarves and learning what a "pliè" was.  Simple, sweet, innocent, and fun.  She absolutely absorbed every second of it and swallowed up the information like it was cotton candy.  It made her happy.  That made me happy.  And it was all about her exploring something she innately liked and was curiously drawn to for no other reason than finding joy out of the discovery of it.  Awesome!  That's worth pursuing.

We stopped at the "Discount Dance Warehouse" before heading home and made our tiny investment in the cutest little ballet slippers and black patent leather tap shoes you've ever seen.  I'm so happy to be able to provide simple joys like this for my little girl.  I think of all the children of the world who aren't so spoiled and days like this remind me that these are precious moments gifted to me.

Who am I to deserve to witness such joy on my child's face?  What a gift!

Sometimes that's hard to remember when my daughter is whining incessantly or my 18-month-old throws a chicken nugget at my face while I'm just trying to purchase said-adorable-shoes.  But, the reality is that I'm living in a place and time where my daughters are incredibly blessed and I get to be in on it.  I get to bear the responsibility of issuing some of that blessing.  I get to reap its benefits.  And, 5-6-7-8...I'm not going to take that for granted.


Jazz hands.  Thank you, Jesus.

There's no telling how long Matilda will want to be a ballerina.  By next week she could be asking to trade in her slippers for snow skis or cowboy boots.  Maybe she will find her niche right away and catapult into stardom.  Maybe she will struggle her whole life to find a talent that suits her best or makes her a living or provides her the contentment she seeks.  Maybe she will be good at many things and hate them all.  Maybe she will terrible at many things but love it anyway.  There's just no telling.

The exciting (albeit, daunting) thing about being her parent is that I get to pray her through this roller coaster of life.  I do my best to buckle her in safely, and then trust that the ultimate Engineer has constructed the road ahead to her best advantage.  I will doubt it.  I will fear it.  I will question it.  This, I am sure.  But, I will do my utmost to remain there, by her, blessed to just be within the blessing of her life.

I might not know too much about the days and trials to come as my girls grow up and discover how their talents, strengths, and desires all match up (or don't).  It's just such a gift to be able to witness it all.  And, until then, I will enjoy these fleeting moments of watching my eldest merrily fumble her way through first position and tap her way to happiness.  I will do my best to count these blessing with each 8-count of her little routines.  And that's enough for me to keep the beat to for right now.

Let the Dance Pardy begin.