hey...thanks.

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After my post "cravings" I received a lot of encouragement and support from close friends and even a few people I don't really know.

I just wanted to say -- thank you.

I face a battle with this blog often on how much to share. There is a part of me who thinks...who cares. I shouldn't be ashamed of things in my life that are going on...it makes me, me. But then there is that part of you that thinks...what if I share too much and people think differently of me. Or I hurt someone's feelings that I care about. Or I write inspiring posts that I don't myself live up to...

But every time I find myself "putting myself out there" whether it be about my journey to find God or dishing lessons from my romantic relationships...that's when people are affected. That's when I get a message about a post or a comment saying "I needed to hear that."

One of my friend's sent me a message the other day thanking me for the post and told me I have a gift with putting words to complicated feelings.

I've never really thought of it like that...as a gift. Thinking of it that way fills me with a kind of humility. If this is a God given gift, how am I going to use it to the best of my ability? How am I going to honor it?

Well, I'm going to start by saying thanks. For accepting me with all of my flaws and my oh-so-many opinions. Thanks for reading. Seriously. And thank you for showing me through your kind words and caring that putting yourself out there is worth it.

I once expressed my concerns about over sharing with another one of my friends -- who sent me this. if you have the time, watch it. She talks about the power that being vulnerable gives us. And I've witnessed first hand with Smith + Emma that it couldn't be more true.

I am really, truly, honestly blessed to be surrounded by some seriously supportive, loving women. I feel really lucky to have friends that continually build me up. And teach me, too. Often times I get so wrapped up in building myself up that I forget to build up others. Lesson learned. Cause ya'll, when you take the time to share a kind word with a friend, or a stranger even, you never know the power it may hold.

dishing our dirt

Throwback to June '11. One of my all time best memories. Mumford +  Sons with Annye.

It's Friday, and by the looks of our most read posts, ya'll like to hear us confess. And hey, we like it too.

Jena's:

1. I confess that my first massage was everything I hoped it would be and more. I kept thinking about what an awesome job it must be to be a masseuse. To use your hands to make someone physically, mentally and emotionally feel a heck of a lot better. And feel better I did.
2. I confess that I am really enjoying my time off of school. I've had time every day to work out, to read, to spend time with the people I love, all stress free, without thinking "I really should be studying." I even had the chance to rearrange and update my room. One more week of this glory. I am going to try to take full advantage. 
3. I've been reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, per recommendation of Annye. I bought it a long time ago, and couldn't get past the first few pages. I confess that there was too much about God and Jesus for me to relate to. (Funny how things change, eh?) In my second attempt, I can't stop reading. I have spent a long time overlooking all I do have. So I'm trying to take pause and just sit in what my life is right now, in this moment, as messy and complicated as it may feel and be thankful. 
4. I confess that big hair will never be my thing. Get that teasing comb away from me. It suits many Southern women, but maybe if you're a transplant you just can't pull it off. My friends from home tease me constantly about "being Southern"--my "accent," my affection for a man who wears cowboy boots and my love of smaller town living. But big, curled, gorgeous hair is never going to be a part of my Southern identity. Or is saying "bless their heart" -- we all know what you really mean.
5. I confess that this weather makes me so happy! Thanks, God. Much needed.

Annye's:

1. This has been a depressing week. No sugar coating that. I’ve been down in the dumps, a lot of people I know are going through hard times, and there just seems to be a deluge of sad news lately. But today, on the way to work I heard Wilson Phillips on the radio and decided you know what? It’s Friday and it’s going to be a good day. So far, so good.
2. I don’t know if it’s a result of the aforementioned sadness or what but this girl has not been sleeping. Last night I finally got more than three hours of sleep and am feeling a little more refreshed than I have in a few days. That however didn’t stop me from popping open a D.C. before 11 a.m. Typically not my M.O. but sometimes you just need an extra kick in the pants to make it a better day.
3. On that note, all I wanna do this weekend is sleep. Not going to happen unfortunately, but a girl can dream! {Get it… har har har}
4. I giggled when I read Jena’s fourth confession. She and I are definitely opposites in the hair department—she rocks the cute sleek hair, while I am usually sporting the big ole Southern pouf. I constantly get comments on the “height” of my hair, but I can’t help it if I’ve got great volume and excellent skills with the teasing comb ;) I cannot leave the house without teasing my hair. It’s a problem.
5. A month from today is my birthday. I guess that means it’s officially my “birthday month.” For the next 30 or so days, I get to be that annoying person who keeps saying it’s her birthday month. I apologize in advance.

cravings

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For a few months now you've read my posts about my exploration of God. I've read about Jesus, many blog posts about various opinions of living a Christian life, spent some time in prayer, and simply let myself be open to it all.

I'd love to write a dramatic story about how I felt God's presence, or heard his voice. That I had some magical encounter that restored my faith in God and Jesus.

But...I don't.

To be honest, I'm still struggling to find faith. But the difference now is that I want it. I'm not just open to it. I want to believe in God. I want to trust in God. I want to, dare I write it...surrender my will to God's.

And friends, that's a big thing for me to say.

I can remember, two summers ago, sitting on a patio with a friend who had a newly found faith and debating Christianity with her and her husband. Being pretty dead set against a lot of what they had to say. And she looked at me and said, "You have too much pride." I still remember that moment and how much it pissed me off.

Fast forward to the beginning of another summer. From then til now, nothing too dramatic in my life has happened. But life has been overwhelming. I've been living for the love of other human beings--and that is draining on so many levels. Do they approve of me? Why don't they love me? Why won't they give me what I need?

And as my friend so rightly put it: "I have an awesome, awesome husband. But man, he'd be a shitty God." 

I so strongly believe in the love humans can give one another. How we can help each other change and mold and grow. The power of human love really is an amazing thing to me. And I never want to lose that. But human love isn't the love I should depend on. Because, well, we're humans. We fail each other. We don't always love unconditionally. We're flawed.

But, perfect love does exist in God, through Jesus. And as I write these words I'm still questioning, Do you really believe this? And while it doesn't feel genuine to me yet, as I've spent so many years of my life denying it, my answer is not only do I want to believe it, I need to believe it.

I'm craving it.

A belief that there is something greater. Something perfect. Something bigger I can live my life for. The idea of relinquishing control of my life to God sounds scary and wonderful at the same time. I've spent so many years in my twenties thinking I can figure it all out. That I can do it myself. That I should do it myself. My friend couldn't have been more right--I've been filled with pride.

And the truth is, my pride hasn't totally failed me. I've worked hard, I've found a career I'm passionate about. I have good friends. I love my family. But the catch is, when any of these things go wrong, when my relationships struggle, or my friend isn't there for me, or my family is busy with their own things, I feel broken.

A friend of mine, who has a very strong faith, recently learned her mother has a fatal disease. Ya'll, I look at the way she is handling it and I'm blown away. She is sad, most definitely. But she's at peace. It's not destroying her. She's not broken. When we'd all, of course, understand if she was.

That peace--that is so much bigger than you or me. It is so much bigger than anything I could give her as her friend. It is so much bigger than what she could give herself with pride.

Her faith. Her peace. It is truly something I stand in awe of. The crazy thing is, I can have it, too.

---

“Look for God. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water.” - Elizabeth Gilbert

Travel with Your Significant Other

Or why I was scared to go on a trip with my boyfriend

As I mentioned, I was just in New Orleans for a long weekend to enjoy Jazz Fest (as well as everything else that beautiful city has to over…namely: food).

The funny thing is, neither of us can remember exactly why we went to Jazz Fest. Other than someone must have mentioned it months ago, and then before we knew it we were booking a hotel and buying tickets and making plans to drive the seven hours together to spend a few days soaking up music and eating as many po boys as humanly possible.

(Aside: last time I was in NOLA, I only consumed po boys. As in, breakfast, lunch and dinner—all I ate were glorified sandwiches and loved every minute.)

Before I knew it, we were off to the Big Easy. Seven hours in the car and five glorious days together. As a long distance couple, five whole days is a novelty that made me excited and slightly apprehensive at once. The last extended period we spent together was around Christmas. But even then we had other people around at all times and it was never just “us”.

Which meant that a lot could go wrong. What if we hated each other by the end of it? What if he got on my nerves when we didn’t have any buffers? What if (God forbid) I got on his nerves? What if we ran out of things to talk about?

Luckily, that last one is almost impossible in a city like New Orleans. With so much going on and a plethora of interesting people, it’s hard to not constantly be talking. In fact, it’s hard to not stop laughing. At one point, we even witnessed an unfortunate and hilarious scene that entailed a pack of unsuspecting teenagers and a friendly Great Dane that just so happened to scare the shit out of them. I’m still laughing.

Long story short… I’m happy to report that not only did we not kill each other… I might like that boy even more. We were able to see each other in another light that traveling provides. He probably would have never guessed that I was the type to carry a folder containing every important trip document printed out (roll your eyes but my mother taught me well). I had a chance to confirm that he can in fact, talk to a brick wall (....strangers love him).

Getting away together gave me a chance to confirm that of all the people I know, he’s the one I’d most like to be stuck in a car with for seven hours after a lack of sleep and not enough po boys. (Seriously, I think I only ate three this trip—not okay.)