Not a Saint

At 2:30 this morning, my Nanny peacefully died in her sleep.

These are my thoughts as I process the loss of a very special lady in my life (and yours, if you know me):

When we first met, she was afraid of me. At least that's what she always told me. Most grandmothers aren't afraid of their grandkids, but I guess taking care of a premature granddaughter who is hooked up to various machines would be kind of scary at first.

It didn't take long, though, for Nanny to get over her fear, and for me to get better, and by the time I was in kindergarten, she had moved in with us. I honestly don't remember life at home before she came. What I do remember is how awesome it was to have her there. She was a second Mom to me. Not to take anything away from my own Mom, but Nan and I had a special bond. She was there when I got home from school, to make me snacks and watch Scooby Doo (which I couldn't watch alone because I was too scared). She made my dinner and did my laundry and was just there...all the time, because she never learned how to drive.

She was the second oldest of twelve siblings (a feat which still amazes me) born to farmers in Grainger County, TN. She moved out at fourteen (yes 1-4!) to work at the Inn in town. She got married and had kids. Then, when my Mom was 10, my grandfather died unexpectedly. So, my grandmother picked up her scattered life, and moved on. For the first time in her life, she worked outside the home. Eventually, she even owned a restaurant in town where she honed her fine country cooking skills. Anyone who knew my Nanny knew what an amazing cook she was - I can still taste her biscuits, green beans, roast, beef stew, greens, fried pies, cakes, candies, chocolate chip cookies as I write this.

Along with all of those things that I admire about her, Nan sure did have some frustrating habits. She was extremely opinionated and didn't mind one bit to make you mad as long as she felt that she got to have her say. She was pretty nosy, which made private conversations at home almost impossible. She like to have things "her way"... and let's just say it was a bad idea to try to do things any other way.

I visited my Nanny in November as she was in a Rehab Center, and everyone there could attest to the fact that she was a little cranky. She did NOT want to do the therapy they had suggested for her and she told anyone who would listen, from the nurses to the therapists to visitors.
I don't say all these things to defame or dishonor my sweet Nanny but simply to say this: She was not a saint.

My Mom and I had a conversation recently where she pointed out that so often when people die, we make saints out of them, remembering only the good stuff and none of the bad. So as I am processing the loss and the hurt I feel knowing that she is no longer with us, I am not only remembering the thousands of fond memories (her planting flowers each summer, working puzzles on the dining room table, watching Larry King every night, playing with her makeup just to name a few) I am also struck by her humanity, which also makes me acutely aware of my own.

So, here's to you Nanny (Mary Virginia Cameron Wells), you were not a saint, not by far. But you lived, and you loved and you taught me so very much. I am exceedingly blessed to have had you in my life for so long. I will miss you more than you know.

Guest Blog: A Christmas Without Nuts & Bolts

I can't take credit for this one, my older brother, Tate, wrote this earlier in the week and asked me to to post it when I next blogged...

Every year as I was growing up as Christmas neared my parents house was filled with aromas that would make your mouth water. There would be various cakes, pies, brownies, and cookies. There was fudge, both chocolate and peanut butter, and an assorted snack we always called Nuts and Bolts. Most of you have probably had this before but may know it by a different name. It is simply Chex Mix, Cheerios, nuts, and pretzels combined, covered in spices and baked. Even without the benefit of a calendar when you saw the nuts and bolts you knew IT WAS CHRISTMAS!

Where did all of this come from you ask? It came from nan. Nan is my maternal grandmother that has lived with my parents from the time I was in middle school. Why did she do this? That is an easy answer: LOVE. See baking is how nan showed her love, and she was good at it. She loved making baskets or tins for people at Christmas and filling them with the delicious treats she made. She had several cakes that were specialties of hers; Apple stack cake, German Chocolate, Caramel, and Red Velvet. Now don’t get me wrong while she loved the baking it was a labor. Many times I would see her throw out what I thought was a perfectly good layer for a cake because it didn’t meet her expectations. She worked hard in the summer drying her own apples for her stack cake so it would be just right. Anything less just wouldn’t do.

Sadly this Christmas is just not the same. My parents house doesn’t have the same smell. There aren’t cakes piling up for her to keep my hands out of. There is not that big jar of Nuts & Bolts for me to snack on. This Christmas instead of running from store to store for ingredients my mom is running to visit her ailing mother. See nan is laying in a hospice center laying in bed living out her remaining days. A body that has spent an entire life working is reduced to just laying and struggling to speak. And you know what Christmas just won’t be the same.

This is the part about growing up that absolutely sucks because nan is my only remaining grandparent. With the passing of each of my other grandparents there have been changes but they are most noticeable at Christmas. From sitting on my pappaws lap in his chair as a child with him calling me pappaws good boy. Also, watching maymee, my paternal grandmother, host Christmas at her house yearly while enjoying the presence of her entire family. Then, now there is the void of aromas brewing at my parents house this Christmas. Mary Virginia Cameron Wells I will miss you. I will miss your cooking. I will miss the shoulder to lean on when I needed it. I will miss my nanny. Oh and I will miss the Nuts and Bolts.

Why do I run?

Yesterday morning I met my friend Mary for a run through the streets of our beautiful Uptown neighborhood. Mary is training for a half marathon at the end of the month, and occasionally she cuts her distance and pace and indulges by running (or walking) with me. Mary is an inspiration to me in many ways, including simply the fact that she’s running a half marathon, given her history and former life, but yesterday she offered some sage advice that I’d been needing to hear.

As we were running - actually, I think I had to stop to walk at this point, but you get the picture - I was talking to Mary about how training is going for her big race. She shared that her training group has been one of the greatest encouragements she could ask for. I thought that was interesting given that her group is all women. I feel like in general getting a group of women together instantly breeds the potential for gossip, drama, tears, etc. But Mary said that this group is so encouraging, urging one another on, sharing stories from their past, celebrating victories and having each other’s backs. She then shared some words of wisdom that spoke directly to my heart, because they have more to do with life than with running.

Mary said that it is so important when you’re training for a race, or just running in general, not to compare yourself to those you are running with. You face different obstacles, have a different history, and are running with different goals in mind. Mary runs to give glory to God for saving her out of a really destructive lifestyle. She said she doesn’t compare herself to the other ladies she runs with. It wouldn’t be beneficial for anyone. With her focus set intently on her goal, all her training group will ever be is an encouragement because that is all she allows it to be.

Then (this is such a GOD thing), Mary forwarded me an email from her training group leader, sent yesterday after we ran, here are a couple of quotes that struck me as well.

“People run for a lot of different reasons. You've got to understand why you do it, and understand that the person next to you has different goals and incentives. Work on meeting YOUR goals--you might find out that the person next to you is aimed in an entirely different direction than you--and that's ok--running is for everyone to find their own happiness within.”

“Be proud to be the runner you are. We all exist on a HUGE continuum. There will always be people ahead of us. There will always be people behind us. “

Both of these nuggets of truth resonated with me. Here’s the deal: if I don’t know why I run, I am ALWAYS going to compare myself to others. And, as Mary’s trainer mentioned, there will ALWAYS be people ahead of me.

I am competitive by nature, and have been blessed with gifts in certain areas that allowed me to excel in most anything I tried growing up – school, dance class, sports, etc., so I never really worried about being competitive; I was always near the front of the pack or the top of the list. However, when it comes to running, well….it just doesn’t come as naturally to me. I really have to try. If my goal when I run is to be the fastest or the best or whatever, I am never going to be satisfied. Because I will never be the fastest or best, I could continually be disappointed. However, if I run for the fun of it, to be in shape, or like Mary, to glorify my God, then there is no disappointment to be had. Sure, there might be days were I run further or faster than others, but what pressure is relieved when I acknowledge that I am not doing something for me, but for God!

This message goes right along with our Vintage Women Bible Study material. Last week we talked about insecurities being one thing keeping us from recognizing and living in the joy that we have been chosen by God. One of the biggest struggles I have in regards to insecurity is feeling like I don’t stack up against some of the great examples of Godly women that surround me. I spend too much time comparing myself, thinking “I should be more like her. She has it all together”. Or “She sure does seem to be in touch with the Lord. I bet she does X,Y and Z. How much happier God must be with her than me!” This also applies to people I work with. I sometimes struggle when coworkers get praise when I don’t or get opportunities that I don’t. Aren’t those awful ugly thoughts? Maybe it’s too much for me to share them so publicly, but, they represent things that have gone through my mind, so I might as well put them out there.

In this week’s study, we are learning to be fully satisfied by Jesus, who is our Bread from Heaven, Living Water, our Sustainer. Being completely satisfied with Him and in His plan for me will free me from feeling like I must try to prove anything to anyone. And if I am focused on doing the work or running the race or living the life I am called to live, then I won’t spend time comparing myself to others. I will also be able to celebrate with them for their achievements and encourage them during low points as we all strive to run our race well. I won’t have time or energy to focus on negative thoughts or comparisons, which represent a very outward and worldly focus as because I will be keeping my gaze on the prize which is before me.

I am so thankful for all the women in my life who encourage and inspire me. This week I am praying that I would stop comparing myself, that I would live in the freedom of knowing I am chosen, and that I would continue to recognize my purpose. For me, that purpose is ultimately to give thanks and praise and glory to the One who created me in everything that I do. I pray that I would soak up and live confidently in that Truth, and would become so focused on my relationship with the Lord and my desire to love and serve Him that I can only be happy for and encourage those around me.

Just a quick list of a few questions I’ve pondered these past days:
- Why do I run (or do anything)? What is my purpose?
- What are my goals?
- Do my attitude, my thoughts, my actions, indicate that I am confident in my goal or purpose? If not, how can I change that?

Why I like Date Night

Since Matt recently posted a blog about the importance of date night in marriage, I thought I’d post a quick response.

My husband is a romantic. It’s one of the things I love most about him. He always knows how to sweep me off my feet. For us, that has never been achieved through extravagant gifts or vacations, rather Matt wooed me through his creative approach to declaring to me and the world that I am lovely and desirable and worthy of his affection.

I specifically remember getting butterflies as a 14-year-old when Matt surprised me with a homemade card for our one month anniversary. Yes, we celebrated months at that point, and yes, the card was awesome and had glitter on it and clearly took a lot of time and effort. I also smile thinking about the time he mailed me a large bouncy ball with a letter written on it while he was working camp one summer. Or the countless scavenger hunts and surprise dates we’ve been on. Now I know some of you may have just laughed out loud or thought about throwing up. Matt’s sentimental and romantic attitude and gestures may be too much for you, but I’d submit this thought: even if our methods aren’t exactly what you would employ in your relationship, the attentiveness and love expressed by Matt’s actions mean more to me than words can describe. More than enjoying receiving glittery cards or bouncy balls or being whisked off on surprise adventures, I savor the realization of the time and effort he spent planning and preparing for these things – time spent imagining my reaction, hoping that his hard work would be worth it, that I’d feel special and loved.

I think that’s why I like date night so much. And that is what it’s really about – my husband pursuing me and showing me that I am special and lovable and worthy of his time and attention. It means so much to me that in the midst of our busy-ness, he makes sure to set one night aside to turn off the noise of the lives we live and just talk with me, listen to me, learn about me and how I am doing and feeling and what I am learning. It doesn’t matter if we’re having a fancy dinner at Patois or takeout pizza for a date night in, because the atmosphere and food are only a small piece of what make the night worth remembering. What’s more worthy is our pursuit of our relationship; the ultimate goal is that through the cultivation of a healthy marital relationship, we are pointing each other (and the outside world) to Christ, who is our bridegroom as we are the Church. I can't think of a more beautiful picture than taking the way my husband pursues me and applying that to the way Christ pursues all of us. I am grateful to be pursued by both.

Outside my Box

For the last two weekends in July, Matt was given the opportunity to preach to our Vintage Uptown family. (You can check out the podcasts or his blog for his take on the experience). We were in the middle of a series called Identity, where we discussed who we are as the Church.

Matt's first discussion focused on Pursuing Christ Through our Mission. He walked us through Acts 3:1-10 and we learned about the importance of living every day with Spirit sensitivity. We closed by writing down one way we respond to the Spirit and posting it on a canvas. It was pretty challenging to take time to think of a specific way or area of my life where I promise to live with Spirit sensitivity and then post it on a board in permanent ink.

Last weekend Matt talked about Being Christ Through our Campus, allowing the story of Peter and Cornelius in Acts 10 to guide us. While there were many good points and lots of truth shared, the idea that I took away was this: Peter was the agent through which the Gospel was shared. Matt and I had discussed a lot that week the idea that throughout the book of Acts, we see time and again that, with the power and help of the Holy Spirit, humans are the medium through which the Lord shares his story with other humans. Even looking at the story of Cornelius we see that while he receives an angel to give him guidance, he doesn't truly hear the Gospel until it is shared by Peter. Matt challenged us to think about who might be a Cornelius in our life, noting that this is likely someone who 1: looks different (racially) 2: thinks different (religiously) or 3: smells different (economically) than you. I left last Sunday's gatherings feeling led to live in a way that I could be used by the Lord the way Peter was, in a way that changes someone else's life (and mine, too).

As I was packing last Sunday to head out of town for a week of training, Matt handed me a book that he'd read and been challenged by last summer. That book was called Peppermint-Filled Pinatas. I read the whole book last week, and once I got past the strange title, which the author explains, I was impressed. This book had very much the same theme of Matt's messages, particularly in that the author, Eric Michael Bryant, urges his reader to actively pursue opportunities to share the love of Christ in the everyday. In his case, this involves sharing with and getting to know people who look/think/smell different than him. You see, Bryant was a bald white guy from Texas who moved to a multi-ethnic, multi-economic and culturally diverse neighborhood in Los Angeles. His personal anecdotes helped drive home his points. As I white girl from East Tennessee, I related to his early difficulties assimilating to a much more diverse culture. Moving to New Orleans has definitely been an eye opening experience in many ways, not the least of which is the racial tension which is still raw and painful in many aspects of life in the city.

I'd like to share a couple of quotes which challenged me:

"The world is changing dramatically, and as a result, we cannot live the same way, hiding in our own cul-de-sacs, staying away from others who look or believe differently from the way we look or believe, because now they live next door (13)."

"If you want to become a diverse church, you need to have friends from diverse backgrounds. Many of us say we want diversity - but only if our children don't marry their children (123)."

I had a chance to talk through these quotes and other issues with my friend Anthony while we were at training. Anthony is an African-American born and raised in Uptown New Orleans, the same part of the city I live in now. He was able to answer some of my questions and bring me to a greater understanding of many of the racial issues that plague our city. He shared about his passion for better education and a stronger community foundation for many of the youth in the city, particularly those who are at an economic disadvantage. I learned so much from just a few short conversations and look forward to continued dialogue about this and other topics as Matt and I continue to develop a friendship with this awesome guy.

I thoroughly enjoyed Peppermint Filled Pinatas. And by enjoyed, I mean I nodded my head in agreement while reading every other page and then realized what a hypocrite I am for not living out the very ideas I so strongly believe. Ultimately what I realized is this: whether by diversity we mean the color of skin, socioeconomic status, or line of thought, I (like most people) prefer to be around those who are similar to me. I tend to befriend those who share my same values and my same way of thinking. It's much easier and doesn't require me to leave my comfort zone, but I am learning that in doing that, I am short-selling myself. I am not allowing my thoughts or point of view to be challenged or growing to understand another person, or allowing the Lord to use someone else to work out some issues in my heart or life.

So this week I am praying for guidance from the Spirit and seeking opportunities to step out of my box and spend time and place with those who are different than me. I also pray that I'll be able to celebrate those things that make others different than me. I hope you'll do the same. I think we'll all be changed in the process.

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

I am. I always have been and I guess I always will be. Last Friday night is just another example of how silly my fear really is. Before you read this, prepare yourself. You may never be able to take the Bricks seriously again.

So here's what happened...

Matt and I had both had busy and exhausting weeks, so we decided to change up our regularly scheduled Friday Date Night and have a date night in. I guess I really didn't realize how tired we were until Matt fell asleep at 7:30 while we were watching a movie. After I finished watching the movie, I got ready for bed around 9:00, very much looking forward to a good night's sleep. But that isn't exactly what happened.

At approximately 3:00am I was awakened by the sound of footsteps in my apartment. You can only imagine how terrifying it must be to wake to hear footsteps INSIDE your apartment when both you and your husband are in the bed. I listened for a few minutes (seconds) and punched Matt in the arm and whispered for him to listen. He clearly heard the footsteps, too, because his body tensed up next to me. At this moment, we were both pretty sure some scary man was going to come back to our bedroom and shoot us in the head. That didn't happen, but we still felt the presence of a person in our apartment.

Before I continue with the story I should give you an idea of how our apartment is laid out. It is a typical New Orleans shotgun, which means that you enter into the living room and all other rooms are setup so that you could walk a straight line (or shoot a shotgun) from the front to the back of the apartment. So, in our place. The front room is the living room, followed by the kitchen/dining area, then our bedroom and bathroom in the very back. It is also important to note that our front door is the only door we have. Now on with my terrifying tale...

So, it's 3:00am, we're awake and sure that some creepy character is in our home. What did we do? Well, Matt leapt across the bed to close the bedroom door (because that is very likely to stop a murderous intruder). Then, we went on a search for a weapon. I'm not a big gun person, so we don't own one, and all we came up with was a shovel from our back closet. Not the greatest option, but it was our only tool.

At this point, we continued to hear noises, and though we realized by now it was probably not a person, a recent news story about coyotes in New Orleans had me pretty convinced that we had a wild animal in our house. I was too scared to let Matt go through the two front rooms of the house with only a shovel to fight a ravaging coyote, and I definitely wasn't going to go, so we decided to escape the house...through the bathroom window. So we climbed out and creeped around the side, through the underbrush, past our grill and bicycles. It seemed odd that the front door was still locked when we approached the front of the house. I wasn't sure how a wild coyote could have gotten in, but I knew he was in there alright. So, we got Matt's hide-a-key and sat in his car. For an hour. I am not making this up.

We were trying to figure out what to do. Should we call the 2nd District Police Station (and what would we tell them)? Should we call our friend and neighbor Mary and crash at her place until daylight? Should we call our friend Jeremy to come and fight this beast with Matt? I was pretty disappointed that we couldn't call the Ghostbusters. I'm sure they would have known what to do.

At one point Matt even went back to the side of the house and peered into the window. He came back and reported that it was definitely not a burglar because both of our laptops were still out. Moreover, it didn't feel like anything else had been moved. Our kitchen chairs were in the same position as they were at bedtime, and our garbage can hadn't been turned over. Still, I wasn't willing to go back in, or to let Matt go in alone, because if there was something there, he wouldn't have a clear and easy exit.

Finally, about 4:30, feeling braver, I relented and agreed that we could reenter our house. We had to climb back through the bathroom window because all of our keys were in the living room by the front door. So, we crept back along the side of our house and climbed back through the window. I was still pretty much terrified, but Matt I think had caught on and insisted that he at least open the door and leap for the kitchen light. I agreed, reluctantly.

So, bravely, Matt opened the bedroom door (shovel in hand) and jumped into the kitchen. He flipped on the light switch and we saw it.....

NOTHING. We saw nothing. Want to know why? Because there was nothing there! No burglar. No coyote. Nothing. I was relieved, obviously, and in shock. I knew I heard something - someone - walking on my wood floors. What could it have been? Maybe we had rodents in our walls...but this sounded much heavier than a rat or even a raccoon.

As I said, it was 4:30 and we were again exhausted. Matt went back to sleep pretty quickly, but it took a while for my heart to stop pounding enough for me to fall asleep. When sleep finally did come, it didn't seem to last long enough. I got up early and went to meet some friends. While I was gone, Matt called me. He had solved the mystery!!

Y'all will never believe what the terrifying sound was. A person. Walking on wood floors. Next door. Our landlord, who was out of town last weekend, had a houseguest who we didn't know about and the second bedroom in that apartment is right above our bedroom. I wasn't completely crazy, you see. I did hear something. It just wasn't what I thought it was.

Moral(s) of the story:

1. Don't believe everything you hear. Sometimes your mind can play tricks on you. Especially at 3:00 in the morning when you've had a long week and are exhausted.

2. Don't take yourself too seriously. It's been fun to share this story with friends and family this week (and now with the world wide web) and share a laugh at my own expense. I forget to do that too often.

Open House

Growing up in the South, you learn a lot about hospitality from a young age. My mom and Nan kept the house picked, partly because they liked to and partly because “you never know when company might stop by”. My parents’ house has been the center of many birthday parties, fancy dinners, and family celebrations and it was first from my family that I came to understand the concept of being hospitable, or opening up your home to others. As a child I thought of hospitality mostly as being good at keeping a clean home and having lots of snacks available for guests. Over the years, I have continued to develop my understanding of what it means to be hospitable.

Recently the idea of hospitality has been on my mind because living in community or 'doing life' with others is very important to Matt and I. One of the most important things to us when looking for an apartment last year was that it have a good size living room and room for a kitchen table because we wanted to be able to host people for dinner or share conversation on the couch.

We’ve met some great people who have shown us true hospitality. My friend Melanie is an excellent example. We met her family about a year ago. Not long after we met, Melanie and her husband invited us over for dinner. We were nervous and wanted to make sure to put on our Sunday best (as good Southern kids learn to do when going to somebody’s house for the first time). When they opened the door for us, Matt and I couldn’t help but smile. Walking into our friends’ living room for the first time felt warm and comforting to us; it reminded us of home. It’s not that our friends’ décor was similar to our parents’ (in fact it is quite different) but their home felt lived in. I don’t mean to say that Melanie is not a great housekeeper (she is), but it was SO refreshing to see that she hadn’t spent all of her time that day straightening every little thing. Instead, it looked like she had played with her boys (I remember a board game being out) and prepared for dinner (dishes still in the sink) with new friends. It made us feel much more relaxed and like we could be ourselves. The fact that their home didn’t feel like a museum allowed us to let our guard down and to just enjoy the evening getting to know new friends.

This past weekend, Matt and I were privileged to host a very good friend of mine for the a few days. To be honest, we meant to spend all of Friday cleaning the house and preparing for her arrival, but, life happened. Stuff came up. We had to run errands. We had some important conversations with each other that required us sitting and talking face to face (not running around discussing from different rooms while frantically cleaning). So, needless to say, a few cleaning chores didn’t get done. We picked up most of our junk and I did at least vacuum and clean the bathroom, but it was not our best work. As we headed to the airport to pick up my friend, I was a little nervous, hoping maybe in the nighttime lighting she might not notice (at least at first) that I hadn’t dusted the bookshelf or mopped the floors. But to my surprise, once we picked her up and got back to the apartment, I didn’t think twice about how clean or not clean things were. I was just excited to have a few days to share with my friend. Over the weekend, we shared memories and laughs, encouraged each other about our futures, and mostly just enjoyed being in the same space. It was a beautiful thing. And it didn’t matter that I hadn’t mopped the floors! I’m not sure if she even noticed, or if she noticed, if she even cared.

From all of that, what I’m learning is this: hospitality is more than opening our homes to people, it involves opening our lives and letting each other in. Even if they see our dirty floors. Even if they see our sin. Because the beauty of hospitality is not measured by the level of our decoration or the cleanliness of our home; instead, it is measured by the memories that are made there, the lives that are changed.

I read a book a couple of years ago by Lauren Winner called Mudhouse Sabbath. In it, she discusses this concept of hospitality, noting "Having guests and visitors, if we do it right, is not an imposition, because we are not meant to rearrange our lives for our guests - we are meant to invite our guests to enter into our lives as they are. It is this forging of relationships that transforms entertaining into hospitality."

So, if you find yourself at the Brick House for dinner or a chat anytime soon, please don’t judge if everything doesn’t look just perfect. We’re trying to spend the minutes before guests arrive praying for our time together rather than scrubbing our floors.

Relationships.

One of my favorite exclamations when a friend is sharing some sort of drama with me is ‘Ugh, People!’. I also find myself being comforted as I repeat those words to myself during a frustrating situation with a friend. It seems that relationships, whether family relationships, friendships or romantic relationships bring us the greatest joy in life and also provide the greatest heartache and frustration. I’ve told Matt many times that he is the one person who knows how to push every frustrating button I have but also knows how to melt my heart in an instant.

The thing about relationships is this – they involve people. And people, by our very nature, are sinful creatures. We mess up. We sin. We disappoint each other. We hurt feelings. How often I’ve decried the way I’ve been treated by someone with whom I share relationship only to realize a) that my own faults and actions have contributed to the problem or b) I’ve treated someone else the very way I have been hurt.

Another problem with relationships, at least for me, is the expectations, both spoken and unspoken, that are set, broken, reset, and on and on. I have this really bad habit of setting expectations for people I’m close to, and then not telling them. Of course eventually the expectation that I’ve set isn’t lived up to, and I get disappointed. Sometimes there is a big confrontation where I let the person know how I thought they should or would be doing (or not doing) this or that and it’s messy. Other times there is no physical confrontation but our relationship is affected nonetheless. All in all, I’m learning more in more the importance of clear and REAL communication that is necessary for a healthy relationship.

So if relationships are hard and people are messed up – why do I crave connection and communion with others? I think it’s because I believe that as humans, we were created to live in community, our lives filled with relationships. And this topic is one where the Lord has been growing me a lot lately. A few thoughts I’ve been pondering…

1. Relationships keep us accountable
Having moved to a new city not too long ago, I had to undertake the task of making new friends. It’s bad enough having to do this when you’re 12, but when you’re in your early 20s it’s much easier just to stick with the friends you know. Especially when you’re moving from East Tennessee to the Big Easy and you’re not sure if you’re cool enough. However, once I made the leap of faith, put myself out there, became vulnerable and shared my heart with people, I was amazed at how easy it is to make friends. The thing about doing that (sharing your heart and being vulnerable) is that once you share with people, they know the real you, and they can call you out when you act differently. The same can be said of old friends, too, who know even from your tone in a conversation if something is going on. I’m grateful for friends, new and old, who know my heart and love me enough to keep me accountable.

2. Relationship show us our weakness
Just reading about my own judgmental and expectation-driven attitude is probably enough to make you want to stop being my friend. But it turns out at least a few people have stuck it out with me. It is when I am able to see how my own actions, my own sinful nature, affects someone I care about, someone I’m in relationship with, that I am most willing and able to change quickly.

3. Relationships encourage us
So if relationship were all just about pointing out our negatives, we probably wouldn’t take the time to make them work. So despite the fact that your best friend, your boyfriend or your mom points out the fact that you’re rude and selfish (either by actually telling you or by showing you through their response to your actions), those people are also there to push you to be better. Having them by your side through the good times and the bad times makes the good times even sweeter and the bad times less bitter. There are hard times and tough situations I’ve had to walk through over the past couple of years, and the walk was made so much easier knowing I had friends and family walking beside me each step of the way. I love Ecclesiastes 4:12, which points out that ‘Though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him – a threefold cord is not quickly broken’.

So, for those of you who have put up with my hidden agendas, my unspoken expectations, my moodiness, all my quirks – thank you for being my friend! And for those of you I’m becoming friends with, I hope I didn’t scare you off. Lord knows I need you all!

Matt Blogs

Check out Matt's latest blog post about his first grilling adventure at the Brick House here. It's good stuff :)

The past few months...

Sitting here in my hotel room at the Hilton in Lafayette, I realized I hadn't blogged since the last time I was here. Guess that just goes to show what a whirlwind these past few months have been.


A few highlights...

1. I passed the CPA Exam (It was a MIRACLE)
2. We celebrated another Mardi Gras in the Big Easy
3. I survived Busy Season...just barely
4. Matt graduated from Seminary

...and a few pictures


Some of my girlfiends and I dressed up as "fruit flies" for Mardi Gras. Can anyone guess what fruit I am?










One of my new favorites of us. Taken Easter Sunday by the lovely Mary Catherine Sharp.

In February, I had the privilege of standing with my dear friend Katy when she married Stephen in Nashville. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Jesus was present.

Of course life is more than milestones and snapshots, but these are some pretty big things we've had going on. I hope the lack of consistent blogs will be forgiven.


I'll be out of town, stationed here in Lafayette for the next couple of weeks. To be honest, I was kind of dreading the prospect of being away from my life and my friends. However, it has been so great over the past couple of days to see just how much I needed this time to pull away from the monontony of life.

And here, in the silence of my hotel room, the Lord has been prodding me. He's trying to teach me something. And I had to get out of my comfort zone, my daily life, in order to see it. I'm not sure exactly what He has in mind for me, but now that I've gotten my toes back in the blogging water, stay posted. I'm sure I won't be able to stop myself now that I've started.