October 15, 2015 by Bethe

That one time I almost died of embarrassment telling a Bible story

Each week as part of our ESL (English as a Second Language – for adults) program, after an hour of instruction, all the classes come together and we tell a Bible story and then give announcements. We use Chronological Bible Story Telling – basically, if you had someone who had never heard the name of Jesus, how would you give them a complete view of the Bible in just a few short sessions? About 12 to be exact? So we hit the major stories of the Bible and unpack what it means to need and have a savior.

The first time it was my turn to teach on the passover, I royally screwed it up.

You see, I have always taught the beginner’s class. It’s my favorite (it’s also all I know), and many of my students speak so very little English. So when you’re telling a complicated story like how the Angel of Death asked the Israelites to kill a lamb and put the blood over their door posts so they would be passed over and their firstborn would be saved… there’s a lot of big words that can be confusing to a new English speaker.

So I decided to “help” simplify the story.

I was doing really great, and was so proud of myself, until I got to the part where I needed to explain who the Egyptians were, and who the Israelites were. I thought it would be helpful to differentiate between the two by explaining how the Israelites were the GOOD GUYS and the Egyptians were the BAD GUYS. I probably called the Egyptians the BAD GUYS 3-4 times before I looked up…

And saw a row of Egyptian students looking back at me.

You know those moments in life where you want to crawl in a hole and die? This was one of those moments.

October 13, 2015 by Bethe

A miscarriage – Halfway through what might have been

Right now I should have been halfway through my pregnancy with Baby Truett. I would already know his or her gender – we probably would have had a big party to do a proper reveal. We both felt it was a boy in our gut, but I’m usually wrong, so who knows.

Right about now I would be feeling those first flutters – kicks that feel more like gas bubbles and are my favorite thing about being pregnant. I would be getting a nice, round baby bump and shopping for fall maternity clothes and secretly mourning the fact that I wouldn’t get to indulge in any of the fall fashions in the window displays at our local mall.

Well, now I get to shop for “regular” fall clothes.

I should be well into my second trimester – those blissful middle months of more energy, less nausea, and finally looking pregnant instead of fat. We’d probably be preparing a nursery, arguing over colors and fretting about getting Wrenn out of her crib so she could pass it on to her baby brother or sister.

When we first found out about our miscarriage, a wise friend warned us that after our initial time of mourning, we would find ourselves grieving again at random times. Small triggers hiding around corners that catch you by surprise on a seemingly normal day. And she was right. It has been mostly smooth sailing through this thing called grief, and yet every once in awhile it surprises me and catches me off guard, and I get sad again as I think about what should have been, but what isn’t.

The meanest joke has been that I may not have a baby here in my arms, but I still had to walk through many of the same postpartum maladies I experienced with Wrenn. My hair fell out again, just like it did after I had Wrenn. It fell out in clumps and we found it all over our house, clinging to every dark shirt it could find. My sleek ponytail is back to having all sorts of stray baby hairs growing in where the longer ones fell out. I went through the same joint pain in my legs and feet that I had Wrenn – enough to be in a decent amount of pain every single day for months. Just like with Wrenn, the pain is now waning and will soon go dark – nothing I can’t live with, but still a cruel, daily reminder of the child I don’t have.

And I gained weight. I’m totally blaming that on the pregnancy and not on the fact that I may have eaten one too many rich meals with Mr. Right as we tried to find fun ways to spend our time over these past few months. Either way, my pants BARELY button. It’s just one more way to feel a little less than I did before this happened.

I share this, not for your sympathy, but because nobody told me that my hair would fall out or that my joints would hurt after losing my child. Only one person warned me of the way this grief would manifest itself – in waves, hiding in unexpected places, ready to catch me by surprise. And so, I apply my life’s motto of “Me, too” to this experience as well. Ladies, may our transparency be a blessing to other women who join our club after us. You’re not alone. You’re normal.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in ALL our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

October 12, 2015 by Bethe

A solution for bad days: Remembering I’m BELOVED

Do you ever have a bad day? One of those days where you feel completely worthless, unlovable, unworthy. A day where you feel fat, and wretched, and insecure, and like you have so many secrets that if others found out, they would be horrified?

(You know, those big secrets like {gasp} sometimes you fight with your spouse, or you haven’t meal planned since 2012, or something deep and dark that brings you shame.)

At my conference last week, Louie Giglio may have spoken to an arena with 12,000 people, but he was really speaking directly to me. He didn’t know it, but God did. There were so many things he said that pierced me, but my favorite part was when he talked about how important it is to see ourselves through God’s eyes. To view ourselves the way God views us. I see my limitations, my sins, my screw-ups, my SHAME, the many times I dropped the ball. But how does He see me?

God sees me as:

righteous :: redeemed :: WORTH DYING FOR :: forgiven :: treasured :: wanted :: chosen :: worth singing over :: WORTHY :: beautiful :: someone worth giving good gifts to :: provided for :: protected :: having the light of life :: strong because of Him :: saved :: full of JOY :: worth rejoicing over :: full of faith :: fearfully and wonderfully made :: confident :: worthy of grace.

LOVED.

If I could see myself the way God sees me, you know what I would feel?

joy :: gratitude :: rejoicing :: like telling everybody

The song I have had on repeat in my car for the past 10 months (well, when I’m not listening to Serial podcasts) has been this one. Friends, may we remember to start each morning reminding ourselves of who God says we are.

October 11, 2015 by Bethe

God is telling me to go small

Last week I was in Atlanta live tweeting and Instagramming the Catalyst Leadership Conference for work. I got to hear from the gals at If: Gathering, Louie and Shelley Giglio, Andy Stanley, Brene Brown, the guy who founded Warby Parker, the guy who founded Charity Water, one of the leading photographers of our era, and David Crowder played a few songs. And somehow I got paid to do it. Not a bad way to spend a week.

Listening to leaders speak for three days straight is enough to make my type-A head explode. Do more of this… you could be GREAT if only you would sacrifice more… think bigger… be more… do less… let God…

How do all of these things apply to little old me? Doing MORE is never much of a struggle for me. I can do, do, do around the clock until I wind myself up into a ball of stress, unable to sit because there is one more thing to do. One more thing to create. One more task at hand. One more item to check off my list. One more obligation. One more good thing. One more… one more… one more…

So what is the next great thing God has for me? Does He want me to do something GREAT by the world’s standards? Does he want me to be famous, standing on a stage someday using my gifts for His glory? The crazy thing is, right now I feel like He is telling me that it’s not about being great – it’s about being a great servant. That He doesn’t care one bit if I’m famous – that it’s okay to be behind the scenes. That He can use my gifts at my job and in the one-on-one interactions I have on a daily basis.

I feel like lately God has been teaching me that when I do less – when I create more margin in my life – then I am available to love others better. When I have a stack of frozen casseroles in my freezer, I am better able to help someone out in a pinch who needs to experience God’s love. When I have free time built into my schedule, I can drop everything and help out in a crisis. When I have a free night in my calendar, I can host people in our home for dinner and show them love – just regular, old-fashioned LOVE with no agenda and no strings attached.

God is teaching me hospitality. And rest. The two go hand-in-hand for me, because when I’m rested, when I have MARGIN, when I have a free moment, I’m better able to give love – and my time – to others.

So while my head is spinning as I think through all the ways I could use my gifts for BIG THINGS for the Kingdom, between you and me, right now God is telling me to go small. Really small. And loose, and free, and quiet. To go behind the scenes and just love and make people feel safe and encouraged and welcomed.

September 30, 2015 by Bethe

Confession: I’m a grown-up who loves to color

I joined the adult coloring book craze about a month ago, and I must say, it’s so much fun. I read a few articles saying that coloring is a great way to relax and relieve stress, and since I’m usually a bit, ahem, high strung, I thought this might be something worth trying. It’s really hard for me to just sit on my couch and relax in the evening when there is ALWAYS another chore or project that needs to get done, and it’s impossible for me to watch television without doing something to keep my hands busy. But after a full day of working and mothering and adulting, putting my feet up and doing NOTHING (well, except coloring) is exactly what my overstimulated brain and body needs.

Besides, it makes me feel like a kid again.

A few friends have asked me what I’m going to do with the pictures I’ve colored, and I must admit I have no idea. Maybe hang one on the fridge? Or maybe just fill up the book and then buy a new one? The outcome isn’t really something I care about – it’s just about clearing my head and enjoying myself. It’s like eating chocolate, but with fewer calories.

If you’d like to join me, it’s so easy to get started: I bought this book and these markers (thanks Amazon). I store the markers in two mason jars on the shelves behind my couch for easy access, and there’s no set-up or clean up (as opposed to my yo-yo sewing which can get a little messy).

Happy coloring, my friends!

September 29, 2015 by Bethe

Bold Prayers

I’m reading Praying Circles Around Your Children, and already it’s changing me.

“Prayer is the way we take our hands off and place our children in the hands of God.” (Batterson)

This book is inspiring me, y’all. Tonight I snuck into Wrenn’s room after she went to bed, knelt down by her crib, and prayed big prayers over my child while she slept. It’s the greatest gift I can give her, the greatest defense against all of the challenges she will ever face, and the greatest way to ensure that I’m the kind of mother God called me to be. I may not be perfect, but I can pray.

September 28, 2015 by Bethe

Happy Monday :: A free download

One of my friends from church asked me to design something for a loved one who is having surgery. This is the verse she is clinging to – it’s beautiful, isn’t it? I always see it in terms of government – I don’t put my eternal trust in a politician, I know my hope comes from Someone much higher than that. But when facing any kind of battle – be it a surgery, an ailment, a challenge at work, something on the home front, a sick kiddo – what a wonderful truth to plaster on your forehead and hide in your heart!

I shut down my shop because I decided I wanted to give things away. So here you go – a special Monday treat from me – a free download. May we all rise and stand upright today, thanks to the strength of our God!

{Download Print}

September 27, 2015September 27, 2015 by Bethe

Greetings from quarantine

There aren’t enough Disney movies in the world to keep a sick toddler happy.

I’m not making light of kiddos who are REALLY sick. That’s downright awful and terrifying, and those mamas need extra hugs and prayers.

No, what I’m talking about is having a kiddo who is just sick enough to feel crummy – nothing life threatening. In our case, my kiddo had a high fever and some asthma problems, which means we haven’t slept in a week, and when she’s awake, she’s the GRUMPIEST THING IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

I know you’re surprised. Because my two-year-old could NEVER throw a terrible tantrum. Who am I kidding, she has thrown some epic tantrums on days when she felt absolutely fine. So please imagine with me for just a moment the kinds of tantrums I have witnessed over the past week from my sleep-deprived, feverish, MAD AS HECK two-year-old.

Yeah. I think I need extra hugs and prayers too.

Let’s just say that this mama has had a challenging week. See, challenging is code for BAD. It sounds so much more “glass is half full,” doesn’t it?

So yeah, it was a rough week over at the Right House. We haven’t had a good night’s sleep in about 10 nights because of that dang asthma, and then for the past five days or so we’ve had a cranky, crying, yelling, feverish toddler who also caught a random virus. Here’s how most of our conversations have gone:

(Me, ever so lovingly and patiently): Honey, would you like some milk?

(My crazy demanding toddler): NO! (with arms crossed, yelling, of course)

(Me, ever so lovingly and patiently): Okay. (closes fridge)

(My crazy demanding toddler): MIIIIIIIILLLLKKKK! Mommy, I want MILK! NOWWWWW!!!! (as she throws her toy across the room, pounds the wall with her fist, then throws herself dramatically on the floor and cries hysterically)

So yeah, this week has been absolutely precious.

It’s such mean twist of fate that at the very time that my precious child needs EXTRA love and grace and patience, Mr. Right and I haven’t slept well in 10 straight nights. Like, several nights we got up over and OVER AND OVER to console our screaming child, give her breathing treatments, bring her milk, rock her back to sleep, BEG HER TO SLEEP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I would love to take a hammer to that baby monitor.

And then, because she’s sick and contagious, it means we’re home on quarantine. ALL DAY LONG. For a hot minute I fantasized that I would get so many things done, or maybe just sit and cuddle my precious child and watch movies all day.

Yeah, that’s not exactly how our quarantine has gone. It has been filled mostly with a certain someone screaming, “Mommy! Mommy! MOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY!” for hours at a time while nothing I do soothes her.

Instead, I have fantasized about drinking a margarita. For breakfast.

But I am happy to report that this morning she woke up her normal, delightful, non-feverish self. Praise the Lord, my crazy tantrum-throwing, happy-with-nothing child has been replaced with the one who loves to give kisses and snuggles and can sometimes make a decision and hasn’t been in time-out a single time all morning.

His mercies are new every morning. And I’m counting down the minutes until naptime… because this mama has a lot of sleep to catch up on.

September 13, 2015September 13, 2015 by Bethe

A night off and adventures for everybody

Parenthood is full of so many contradictions. The biggest one may be this:

1. I love my child and want to be around her ALL THE TIME. I have tailored my career, my hobbies, and my schedule, so that it includes plenty of time to spend with her. Because she’s only a kid once.

2. The minute someone offers to babysit (especially overnight!!!) I’m all like, “Peace out kiddo – mama is getting a night OFF!!!!!!!

Can I get an amen?

Even though we had just had an overnight date a few weeks ago, when the grandparents offered to keep Wrenn overnight so she could spend some extra time with her cousins who were in town visiting, we didn’t think twice. We immediately made reservations at our favorite spot and started counting down the minutes until we could have a hot date. And sleep all night without a baby monitor. And carry one of those tiny clutches instead of a giant mom purse and baby backpack.

It’s the little things, y’all.

I was already as giddy as a high school girl who was asked to Homecoming (have I mentioned that I married the Homecoming King? Yeah. I did.) Then, Mr. Right took it up a notch by sending me FLOWERS. To work. In front of everybody.

I pretty much met him at the door when he came home with a goofy grin on my face ready for a night of fun.

And I would show you photos of this night of fun, but we had too much fun to actually TAKE any pictures. Just imagine me all dressed up – IN HIGH HEELS – having a really great hair day. And Mr. Right looking studly in a new fall-colored shirt he was really proud of. We went to one of our favorite spots (Fort Worth friends… get thee there NOW) and indulged on PBJ chicken wings, fried chicken sliders, mac-n-cheese with bacon and jalapenos, and oysters. We talked about grown-up things and nobody threw a tantrum at the table (sorry Wrenn) and it was so… quiet.

After that, Mr. Right took me out for ice cream BECAUSE HE LOVES ME. And then we came home and sat on the back porch and talked about our upcoming adventure to New York and all the fun things we wanted to do while we’re there. It was such a fun night.

(And mom… don’t worry, we didn’t get any more tattoos.)

The next morning Mr. Right was up before dawn while I slept in until 7:30 (which is my version of noon). While he rode his bike 47 miles from Fort Worth to Dallas, I got a massage and enjoyed a quiet morning to myself. I failed at the “no housework” thing – the weather was just so glorious that I couldn’t help myself… I cleaned out our garage and did some work in the garden. It was a great excuse to get outside on the first cool(er) day in two months.

And then I napped so hard I woke up completely disoriented. That means it was a really good nap, my friends.

While we enjoyed 24 hours of care-free responsibility, little Wrenn got to spend the most glorious day with her cousins in the country, riding the pony and 4-wheelers, playing with stickers and eating popsicles and watching princess movies and fighting over the grandparents’ attention.

This girl had FUN.

When we finally reunited Saturday night, I figured she would come running to me, squealing with delight as she melted into my arms for the biggest hug ever. Instead, we walked in the door and she saw us and started yelling, “No! No! No!” Because girlfriend didn’t want us to take her home. She wanted to stay there forever.

Ahhh, motherhood.

August 31, 2015February 20, 2016 by Bethe

That one time Mr. Right and I got matching tattoos

{Gulp} This is the post where I admit to my mother that I got a tattoo.

I should start by telling you that I don’t even have my ears double pierced. I never pierced my nose or my belly button. I’ve never been in major trouble. I am the chief of all rule followers. I don’t have a rebellious bone in my body. I am a conformist.

Now that I got that off my chest, let me tell you how it happened.

Last month was simply lousy. Hard, and sad, and exhausting. We were no longer in that wear your stretchy pants, binge on ice cream and watch Seinfeld re-runs all night phase. But we still needed some FUN. We needed to laugh and escape from reality and make some special memories as a couple. So Mr. Right surprised me with the news that he had booked us a house through Air BNB, made dinner reservations, and coordinated child care with his parents.

SCORE.

Mr. Right found us the absolute cutest duplex in the Museum District in Fort Worth, just 15 minutes from our house. I started the weekend by checking in and going straight down for a nap (my favorite luxury in the whole wide world), while Mr. Right got a massage. Then we got dressed up and went for dinner at American Food & Beverage. I highly recommend the Chorizo Scotch Eggs and the House Made Ricotta. It could have been my whole meal (but of course I also got the fried chicken because, well, I’m fun like that).

At dinner I casually mentioned that I had been thinking about getting a tattoo in honor of the baby we lost last month. I had been wanting to have something tangible to remember him or her by. We had already agreed to give him a name (because the thought of a nameless baby breaks my heart), but I needed something more. Something to mark the experience.

Mr. Right totally called my bluff. “Let’s go tonight!” he said.

I was thinking more along the lines of maybe in five years or forty years or probably never. But whatever. I got so nervous thinking about it that I ran to the bathroom and got sick. You know, because I’m so good at being a rebel and stuff.

But I did it. We left the restaurant and went to a tattoo parlor in Fort Worth and got MATCHING TATTOOS. Me. This girl.

Let’s just say that I’m probably the least cool person who has ever set foot in that tattoo parlor. And the most square. And I’m pretty sure we made their night with all my questions like “What’s the smallest tattoo I can get?” and “How thin can you make it? No… thinner…”

Let’s also say that my new tattoo is VERY small, and VERY hidden. It’s never going to see the light of day.

Mr. Right and I both got our baby’s initials. It’s so special to me and means that I will have my baby on my being until the day I die. He (or she) will be with me forever. I feel like we took a very sad experience and created a really happy memory. Together. Isn’t that what marriage is all about?

Mr. Right and I haven’t laughed this much in years. We giggled through dinner, through the whole tattoo experience, the rest of the night, and woke up still laughing about it. I mean, come on – WE HAVE MATCHING TATTOOS! That’s just funny.

After that, we slept late, went to brunch, and were back home by lunchtime, snuggling our kiddo. And still laughing.

{Oh – and not to worry… I went ahead and called my mom and told her about the tattoo so she wouldn’t read about it in a blog post. Because I’m a rebel, but not THAT much of a rebel.}

Texas Lovely

Whatever is lovely