January 1st, the day good intended plans are created in hopes to improve life for this next year. Resolutions are made to improve, the body, mind, and spirit. For example, some people want to work out more to feel better about their outward appearance and improve their internal health. I'm on day 4 of a 30 day yoga challenge and find myself more often than not saying, "Namast'ay in bed."
This blog is not a 2016 resolution for me. I have had this on my heart and mind for a long time now, but just having it on my heart is not the same as actually doing it. I have a word that I want to define me and this year and that word has led me to actually sitting down and trying to figure this out.
I am defiantly not an expert in many things.
Unlike my mother, I need a recipe to follow to the tee if I want something to taste good. How are you supposed to just know to add baking powder, and what in the world is "a pinch" or "a dash?”
I like pretty clothes, but I am often found in my husband’s over-sized tank top and brightly colored gym shorts (worn solely for comfort, not for working out.) I live in Southwest Florida, so the options are usually wear that, or die. It was 89 on Christmas.
The comment about the gym shorts should automatically eliminate the hopes of a fitness conversation, which brings me back to my original comment, that I am not an expert on many things.
I do however, know a little something about myself. I've got thoughts, ideas, passions, hurts, defining moments, stupid moments, happy moments; I've got stories to share, but I do not often get the chance to. Not because people don't wonder, but because I do not give them the chance to ask.
I truly love talking to others and getting to know more about them and their life. I'm good at asking questions because I am genuinely interested. But I think to an extent, I have used that as a defense against being known. God has moved and changed and challenged me in so many crazy ways, but I do not publicly celebrate that well.
So my plan is to share some stories. I live in a culture in which vulnerability is celebrated, and while I celebrate it in and with others, I am not great at it myself. I hope this gives whoever reads this (hey mom) the chance to ask questions, push me, and help mold me into the person I want to be. A person who loves others and allows others to know and love her, and a person who really really loves Jesus.
Here goes nothing!