Why I cried happy tears when someone called my daughter "fat".

We try to teach our house not to use the 'F' word.

Not unless we are talking about avocados or cashews, but never ever when referring a person in any way.

And ya'll know I am all about instilling positive self-image in my kids, celebrating differences and all of that. It killed me when someone made fun of our daughter's "big" hair, and when one was made fun of for being too thin, or our son came home crying because someone made fun of his scar. Just like it kills me when the words come from their mouths too because they do sometimes. They're kids. We're trying.

The truth is, this move has provided a healthy dose of perspective for all of us. People who sleep outside and kids who only have one pair of worn out, ill-fitting shoes or didn't have dinner last night... they aren't just tall tales to our children anymore, they are friends they sit next to in class. As brief as my stint was back in the classroom, it kicked me in the pants again too.  I say "again" because I have been kicked in the Perspective Pants so many times before and I still need to be over and over again. I think I'm usually pretty aware, but it is so easy to get sucked into the privilege we live in. I mean, I KNOW, I just forget every now and then before I realize I'm in that hole.

WHO CARES if Cale wears the same (clean, appropriately sized) UT sweatshirt every day? WHO CARES if they eat frozen pizza sometimes (until they are stuffed)? WHO CARES if somebody pees in their (warm, safe) bed?


This wasn't really a total stranger, I guess. We see her semi-regularly. This was maybe the third time our paths had crossed?

"Are these all your children?" she said.
Yes ma'am.
"Beautiful family... You sure are a pretty little girl (to AG)."
Hi! Thank you! So cute! AG replied, and then reached in for her signature squeeze. She gently hugged her back, and then the not-a-total-stranger started crying.

She had on a several layers. Everything she had, I expect.
She wears a hat because the nights are still chilly here. She didn't need the gloves today.
Not sure where she got the shoes, but they clearly aren't her size. She has to shuffle a little to keep them on. I don't know where she usually sleeps.  I don't know where her last meal came from.  I don't know her story.

But I know when the tears flowed and "She's a fat baby." was her next sentence, it wasn't to be unkind to my soft, sweet little girl with precious cheeks. It was a compliment. An acknowledgement.  She meant: this baby is well-fed and taken care of. This baby has clean clothes and a bed to sleep in. This baby is loved.

"She's a fat baby." With a smile through the tears.

Yes, ma'am. She is. 

Chapter Two.

Chapter Two has been difficult to write because it is so so good God.
And by 'difficult', I mean words cannot possibly do it justice- especially in text.



We had one more thing to figure out in our new neck of the woods: Church.

Frankly, we had not been in weekly church for a while. A lot of families who have exceptional needs will tell you that church is hard. Finding a church that not only accepts your kids, but embraces them, provides them with opportunity (and you with respite)... it's just not easy. We honestly didn't experience that. Still- many other factors had played a role and we kinda just gave up while we took care of everything else.

How do you even begin to look for "your" church in a new town? We Googled each one we passed and were simultaneously over and underwhelmed. I had made a quick connection with one person in particular in my brief time at the school and reached out, letting her know that diversity and missions were important to us. We made arrangements to visit her church the first Sunday of January, and she sent the website for us to check out in the meantime.

I wish you could have seen our faces while we skimmed the website.  We were sucked in quickly, not at all by anything flashy or or modern.  We were reading all about their mission for the local homeless, how hard they have worked, going as far as developing the "Isaiah 58" house to serve as transitional housing.

Which, of course, is our house. Because God is crazy like that.

So, there's our house. And it's purpose. (Which is now framed on our wall because YES.)(And hanging next to an Elvis record, obviously).

And the things that have happened since the moment we stepped foot into Greater Faith? I don't even know if would believe me right now.

I can tell you that it may be the whole reason I made a pit-stop at the school... that maybe the whole "job" thing was orchestrated specifically as a stepping stone to get us to this church.  The truths/prophecies that have been spoken to us since Day One are loud and overwhelming and spot on, in the best ways.

Greater Faith has been a game changer.  We are happy and welcomed and free and revived.
We are grateful. And EXCITED about what's next!

There's most definitely a Chapter Three....

Work in progress!

Really being tested on this 'no negativity' thing, especially this week. But I ain't a quitter.

Lots of trials and I almost let it mess me up. It's kinda comical now on the playback. There were a few times that I really attempted to have meaningful, intelligent conversation, but instead ended up all: I agree and here's a well thought out response... rabbit... squirrel... mean rabbit... dumb squirrel... ugh....cry a little.... use bigger hand gestures... okay, let's wrap this up. I tried, ya'll. 

Progress not perfection, right?

Nathan called me this morning and reminded me to PROTECT THE CALL. {hey, Jeremiah Chapter 1, what'sup?}

If you were called to it, the enemy will attack in any way. It's not about you, it's about the call and trying to stop what has been ordained. It doesn't matter what that call is, only that it was put there by God himself and it is your job to protect it.  

I'm sure as heck not trying to preach to anybody, but we were given that on Sunday (LOVE OUR CHURCH SO MUCH) and it was right on time as usual. We knew what kind of week we were walking into. It helped- even if we did need several reminders. I thought it might help someone else too.

Being intentional about my thoughts is changing my feelings and changing my behaviors.... slowly but surely. I can see it changing the little humans I love too. It's contagious! Cale West himself gave me a compliment sandwich.

I painted my nails. I don't know why, I hate to have my nails painted. But I did because Spring I guess. Apparently, I accidentally chose a scented nail polish? I don't understand that because smelling your fingernails seems odd to me personally, but also the scent was "fresh linens". WEIRD. I have a sensitive sniffer and I do not want laundry fingers on purpose. They already smell like laundry from doing.all.the.laundry.

When CW got in my car after school, he said: "Mom, you did a good job on your nails. They smell terrible and you have to get it off as soon as we get home, but they look nice I guess."

COMPLIMENT SANDWICH. That is progress in the positivity department. 

Brynnie gave me a custom cootie-catcher made just for me.

Under the tabs, she wrote awesome things.

We have actually had a couple standout overcomers this week that I'm super proud of. Progress not perfection- but I'll take it. Sisterhood of the Traveling Positive Pants. Or something. We are on the cusp of being, like, exceptionally okay. A few more days and we will wrap this week up and then we are gonna Spring Break like nobody's business.

In other progressive news:

One house down, one to go! Puh-raise.