Krista – Page 11 – Krista Ortiz

A Lesson in Faith on the Corner of 52nd and 8th

It was on the corner of 52nd and 8th that I wept.

I wept helplessly over lukewarm coffee and dry chocolate cake, in an uncomfortable green leather booth, at one of the only Manhattan diners that seemed to be open that late at night.

Just hours before, my husband had been offered his dream job in New York City. And after high fiving each other in the elevator on the way out of the office, it didn’t take long for reality to set in. Just 2 floors down to be exact!

We would be moving to Manhattan in just 5 weeks…

5 weeks to say our goodbyes to the people who we loved (and who knew nothing about our intentions of leaving)… 5 weeks to sell our house, our two cars, and nearly all our possessions as we would be moving from a 4-bedroom house in suburbia to a 1-bedroom in crazy town… And 5 weeks to – somehow – get in touch with the super-human mojo I would need to go from the small town girl I’ve always been, to the hardcore rough and tumble Manhattan mom that I would need to become in order to survive.

If those diner walls could talk, they would tell of a girl who shed an innumerable amount of tears that night. Each with an excuse as to why…

I…

could…

not…

do…

this.

There I sat for hours, weeping into my dessert (which was my husband’s sweet – but failed – attempt at calming my anxiousness)!

My husband had always been the one with notable strength and the ability to persevere under the most challenging of circumstances. I, however, was much more qualified in things like ‘quitting’ and chugging water. The expanse of the city had him giddy with excitement, while the very same thing had me cowering in fear!

I was focused on the money we didn’t have… the hopeless housing market we were currently in… the timeline that seemed impossible… and the street smarts that I was desperately lacking…

Somehow he managed to see it as an opportunity for God to show up.

One thing was clear, God would HAVE to show up! And in my weakness, I didn’t know if He would.

And so I cried all night long. Like, seriously!

The next morning, on the plane ride home, with bloodshot eyes and only 2 hours of sleep (you know, because I was far too busy crying to sleep!) I found this verse.

“Then the whole community began weeping aloud, and they cried all night.” – Numbers 14:1

This weeping ‘community’ was the Israelites, and by the looks of it I had a lot in common with them!

I needed to know more about these people! So I flipped through page after page to learn more.

What I found was that on many occasions God had ‘shown up’ for the Israelites in much the same way that I needed God to show up for me. He had saved them from a life of slavery, He had done the impossible and parted the Red Sea on their behalf to protect them from the wrath of Pharaoh, and He had never failed to provide for each of their daily needs up to this point.

Not only that, but the Lord had big plans for the Israelites! With every day that passed, He was leading them closer and closer to the Promised Land – the life He had so intricately designed for each of them.

So why is it that they were crying?

Because there were giants up ahead!

Literally!

Upon scoping out the area, they found that there were giants roaming the land and standing directly in the way of what the Lord wanted for them. And so, being that the Israelites were paralyzed in fear, they wept into the night.

In Deuteronomy 1:29-30 the Israelites were addressed,

“Don’t be shocked or afraid of them! The Lord your God is going ahead of you. He will fight for you, just as you saw him do in Egypt.” [Just as He had done before!]

But instead of resting in this truth, the Israelites chose to allow their fear to consume them! They ultimately refused to trust the Lord and acknowledge how He had provided for their every need in the past, and in the end because of that, few ever got to see the life the Lord had for them come to fruition!

And it was then that I realized, that I too, can be an Israelite…

So that day, at an altitude of 30,000 feet (give or take a few thousand feet), I made the decision to embrace the life the Lord had laid out for me and to trust that He is bigger than the giants that were standing in my way! I brought to Him all the fears that were looming, the needs that couldn’t possibly be met, and the magnitude of the changes that were directly up ahead – all of MY giants – and chose to lay each one of them at His feet and praise Him! Not because of what I knew He was going to do, but because of what He had never failed to do for me in the past!

I chose to trust Him, even if it meant moving to New York City…

Joyce Meyer put it well when she said, “Feeling fear is simply the temptation to run and hide from what we should face and confront.” And as I stood on the street this last week peering into the same diner booth that I sat in just 10 months ago – watching the waiters bustling and patrons conversing around the very same booth that I once ~~sat in~~ wept in – I couldn’t help but wonder what my life would look like today. What if, in that very moment, I would have chosen to run and hide from what I knew very well the Lord was asking me to courageously confront? Where would I be if I hadn’t given God the opportunity to provide the solution for every excuse… every fear… and every tear that had grazed my cheek that night?

I realized even more, that the pivotal decision I struggled to make in the diner that night, is the same one we are faced with every single day of our lives!

Are we going to trust God? Or are we going to quit?

Are we going to look to His strength, or rely on the inadequacy of the person staring back at us in the mirror?

Are we going to embrace the life the Lord has designed for us, or try to pave an easier way and risk the chance of never knowing what He had so perfectly planned on our behalf?

The truth is, it will only be a matter of time until our excitement is met with giants up ahead…

And when it happens, let’s weep. Let’s shamelessly let it all out because we have never in our lives been so terrified! But once there are no more tears to be shed, let’s bravely stand to our feet so that we can see – maybe even for the very first time – where life would take us if we let our faith in God be stronger than our fears!

And in the event that we lose sight of this truth (because I know, I so often will…)

You can meet me on the corner of 52nd and 8th.

You bring the tissues,

I’ll be the one with the chocolate cake.

This Blog Isn’t For You

So we blew up the blogosphere this last week…

Like for real, and entirely on accident!

And as Rachel and I watched the number of daily visitors grow on our blog – doubling, tripling, and so on… and so on – I realized something new about myself…

Success isn’t my scene.

While it makes me momentarily want to dance on the table in excitement, just as quickly, it had me rocking back and forth in fetal position, scratching my eyelids, and taking an oath that I would never write again.

Throughout the week, it’s entirely possible that I made a few frantic phone calls to Rachel, where we weighed our options, and questioned whether it would be best to just shut down the blog completely (no really… we were THAT freaked out!)

And yet, interestingly enough, here I am once again.

Only took 500 gallons of chamomile tea to calm my escalating heart rate, and another trillion prayers to the Lord Almighty, but I am here!

But due to the attention we got this last week, and taking into consideration the many feathers I ruffled ( because apparently people don’t understand the disclaimer: “I know this post will offend people… and for the record I am not sorry!”) I thought it might be fitting to clarify a few things:

Yes, I am a pastor’s wife. And no, that’s not a title I can live up to! Being a ‘Pastors wife’ is in no way my identity (you won’t here me ‘name dropping’ that in posts to come…) And whether you choose to believe it or not, I am a human being just. like. you!

I am not über spiritual- In fact the Real Housewives of New Jersey and I have an ongoing date on my couch every week (and if there are wheat thins and chocolate covered acai berries involved, then all the better!) Admittedly, I curse on occasion for emphasis, and I make a MEAN margarita!

That being said, while it’s entirely your choice whether or not you hold me to the unrealistic standard of what you believe that a Pastor’s wife should be, if you choose to do so, I can say with 100% certainty that I will fail. Miserably.

And when I do, it’ll be your fault for putting me on that pedestal -not mine!

And if you don’t like that, then this blog is not for you.

I also am by no means the picture of a perfect parent. I secretly despise the playground, too often turn to the plethora of take-out menus for dinner at night, and it’s entirely possible that the first music my daughter ever heard in the womb was a Black Eyed Pea’s song, that my husband and I had methodically picked out!

And if you don’t like that, then…

well, you get where I am going with this!

I love the Lord deeply with all that I am. And whether or not a relationship with Him is what you desire, you hang with me long enough and it’s likely my faith will be contagious.

So a word of caution: If that is something you are extremely opposed to, then this blog might not be for you. (Although, I secretly hope you will stick around anyway!:)

If my grammatical errors anger you to the point where you feel the need to comment about them, then I am sorry, but it seems you have confused me with a real writer!

Simply put, I am a stay at home mom, who – what I lack in hobbies, is made up for with dishes in the sink! I struggle daily to get out of my pajamas, and am always scrambling to get my weekly blog post done in time while my two year old crawls all over my limbs, feeding me fistfuls of goldfish crackers in an attempt to get me to impersonate the cookie monster (which for the record, I have no shame in doing!)

All that to say, if you are looking for an eloquent speaker or errorless presentation, then this will never be the blog for you!

As for me, I will cling to the hope that if God can use simple farmers, despised tax collectors, and even sons of prostitutes to bring Him glory, then surely the Lord in all of His greatness, won’t even bat an eye at the mish-mash that can be my english!

And given the chance that I get a negative comment – or give or take a few HUNDRED like last week! 😉

I will not respond. Ever!

I know, I know… you are “being pressed by the Holy spirit” to tell me how wrong I am and what not, but regardless, that’s just not me. It’s not that I don’t respect your opinion, it’s that I don’t write to please you – or anyone else for that matter!

I write because God has laid it on my heart to be unapologetically honest and courageously me! To be vulnerable enough to share my weakest, and rawest thoughts so that He can meet me there and transform my heart to be more like His. NOT to merely write for His people; their praise, their public acclaim, or to address their criticism!

So if you are looking to debate with someone or are itching for a feud,

This

Blog

Not

For

You.

Phew! Now that we got that out of the way – and since we have weeded off all the haters by now – may those of you who are still with us, continue on this journey of true authenticity. The kind where we aren’t afraid to publicly declare that our kids are making us cray cray, that our spouse is one- dirty- q tip – left – on – the – counter away from sleeping on the fire escape (like, indefinitely!) and to address that more often then not, we struggle with feelings of being not enough; enough of a provider, enough as a spouse, enough as a parent, and at times, even enough as a CHRISTIAN! Gasp! I know, its scandalous I tell you!

Together, I hope we can learn to lean into Christ for all that we need, learning to love Him and trust Him more, so that with His strength we can embrace the (at times craaaaazy) life he has laid out for us!

We will be your guides, and although we can’t promise perfection, an agreeable nature (or in my case, savory language 100% of the time) you do have our word that we will be honest and raw to the core, in hopes that one day you too will be able to do the same!

And if THAT is what your soul has been so desperately longing for, then I am so happy to announce that this IS the blog for you! And we couldn’t be happier to have you on board!

But before I go I must publicly declare…

that I, Krista,

do solemnly swear,

to never curse a crockpot ever again! 😉

There. I said it. Now can we all just get along?

You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea

My latest pet peeve is THIS.

Every time someone living outside the city attempts to ‘minimize’ what it’s like living in New York City, something dies in my soul!

“Oh, it’s not thaaaaat expensive…”

“it can’t be thaaaaat busy…”

It’s the emotional rage equivalent of telling a person who works out hours every single day, and limiting it to the fact that they must just have really good genes! When they go on to explain how hard they work – the laziness they push past, the determination they have to possess, the self control that it demands – the response again is, “nah, that cant be it… you must just have good genes!”

For the record, I don’t have good genes. And living in the city DOES NOT come natural to me.

And I can’t help but think, that when I am searching the city over, and aggravated to the point that I am yelling in pig-latin in the bulk spice aisle of the grocery store because I can’t find nutmeg for under $6.99, or the cheapest loaf of white bread I can find is on sale for $4 and went bad YESTERDAY! That you are right… I must just be making this ISH up! $$$$$$$$$

That when I pack into a subway car that has you crammed like sardines, and I find myself apologizing to my daughter for all the miscellaneous crotches in her face, or stand in the check out line at Trader Joes that literally wraps around the store, TWICE! That it’s true, its not thaaaaat busy… compared to Black Friday!

So for all those, whose opinions are flooding me like a southern downpour, the truth of the matter is, you think you know, but you have no idea!

Is it just me, or have I gotten feistier over the course of the last 8 months? 🙂

You see, living in Manhattan is hard to describe…

At the exact same place outside your apartment that you saw Tom Selleck 30 minutes prior, now lies a man passed out drunk infront of your building, making it so you can’t leave your apartment until a ‘Good Samaritan’ walking along the street literally picks him up by his coat, and tosses him to the side so you can get through the door.

Our children’s pediatrician is on Park Avenue, we take morning strolls through central park, with each step, listening to the Kings of Leon rehearse their songs for a benefit concert somewhere in the park, and have seen both the President and the Rockafeller christmas tree being police excorted outside our apartment building (one being more exciting than the other depending on your political stance!)

And yet, we take public transportation to go trick or treating, have bruises up and down our left leg thanks to carrying our kid in their stroller down the subway steps, and are forced to store our summer clothes under our beds during the winter due to lack of space. Seriously, if I only had ONE more closet…

We get yelled at every time we put out basket of groceries on the conveyor belt at the store (for reasons we aren’t quite sure), and are tainted enough to believe that the only plausible explanation for someone being nice to you is that they have every intention of mugging you.

We live and breathe by the saying “You are only in trouble, if you get caught”, rarely make eye contact, and know the homeless people in our area more than our neighbors (and if you are like my family, you nickname them!)

There’s ‘The Spitter’ who for whatever reason spits sporadically (you can hear her before you see her), “Two-face” who sweetly asks for spare change- puppy dog eyes and all – but then curses your existence as you walk by, calling you the likes of ‘ungrateful’, and ‘selfish’ with a few f -bombs tossed in there for emphasis.

Then there is the man that sits on the corner of the street outside our apartment – rain or shine – in a wheelchair and NEVER asks for money. Who we later came to find out isn’t homeless at all! He actually works for the paparazzi, and like clock work, sits outside the restaurant below our apartment, watching for celebrities going in and out. Who, now that I think about it, probably doesn’t even really need a wheelchair!

New Yorkers also eat out a TON – 58% of them eat out AT LEAST once a day! (And it’s likely that we know lots more random statistics just like that!) We also have lofty ‘food goals’, like to try a cronut (the croissant- doughnut hybrid that has taken the city by storm!) or to ‘taste’ every country in South America, just because we can!

And given the dire situation that you ever find yourself needing to impress a New Yorker, it’s as simple as making something- ANYTHING – homemade! Seriously, it BLOWS. THEIR. MIND. every time!

Our bible studies have people skyping in from around the country (one even in Afghanistan!), our playdates go down at playgrounds not in homes, and interestingly enough, I’m in a car so little, that I actually get car sick every time I am in a taxi.

And sure, I could trade my NYC life, for granite countertops, and a walk-in closet elsewhere. I could have impeccable customer service, and cheaper produce at my fingertips… but even then, the cost would be far too great!

Because I’d be trading my new-found courageousness for comfort, and my city experiences for mere suburban luxuries.

So I have decided…

Suburbia, you can keep your fancy cars, your garbage disposals, and the expectation to have an even number of kids,

because although living in the city is mind-boggling expensive, swamped with people, and stretching me thin to the point I am nearly translucent,

Even still, I want to be a New Yorker!

For today, at least 🙂

Misconceptions of a Godly Woman

I realize that this post may offend certain people: Good people, people who I’d probably really get along with otherwise…

But for the record, I am not sorry.

Last week’s post Worthy of Rubies was me, buttoned up in my ‘Sunday’s best’ and smiling pretty. But over the last couple of days a fire has come over me and I can’t keep silent.

You see, I hate when women stand before other women and use their platform to hide behind facades of ideal marriages, perfect specimens of children and strong opinions on the likes of breastfeeding, vaccines, and church politics…

I cringe when the Kim Kardashian’s of the world pose half-naked in an attempt to prove that they’re still sexy, when any ‘real mom’ feels like anything but! When friends on Facebook post statuses like “ …Made 6 loaves of banana bread, ran 12.8 miles, fed the homeless, and saved a cat, and was still able to get home in time to make homemade apricot pork loin and apple crisp for dinner tonight,” while the rest of us are left wondering how we even made it out of our pajamas today?!?

I don’t know when being sexy and domestically superior made us more of a woman, but let me challenge you with what I believe is the #1 misconception of a godly woman…

Years ago, I took a class in bible college that still to this day gets my blood boiling. It was a class called Christian Womanhood.

Three times a week hundreds of college freshman ladies piled into the auditorium, and who if they were anything like me, anticipated by the name of the class ‘Christian Womanhood’ that we would come to understand what it truly meant to become the godly woman the Lord desires for us to be.

Most of the girls attending the class would one day go on to become pastor wives, missionaries, and christian school teachers. Women who would have the potential to impact other women, communities and the World in POWERFUL ways!

And yet, THIS is what we learned…

– How to execute a wedding. Complete with rehearsing a mock wedding in which each of my peers played a ‘part.’ I however, sat in the audience (on the groom’s side if you want to be specific) uninterested, and unapologetic …I mean, seriously?

– The importance of making dinner for our families each night, and pointed out the convenience of using a crock pot. …Yep, it happened.

– Why we must only read the King James Version of the Bible. But I have no notes on that lesson, because unashamedly, I tuned that one out!

It was also in this class that we did an in-depth study of Proverbs 31 in the Bible. Which wasn’t bad per se, but due to all of the above (and the fact that I actually paid for this nonsense of a class!) I don’t think it would surprise anyone to know that still to this day, I have a physical aversion to any of the topics covered in that class, including the beloved Proverbs 31 woman!

Interestingly enough though, my husband came to me last week and asked me to write a devotion for our church on you guessed it – Proverbs 31! And in all honesty I fought it HARD, as if to completely downplay the significance of it in the Bible.

And yet as I pored over the chapter myself, I realized something I had never seen before, something I can assure you was NEVER taught in my class all those years ago:

Who can find a capable wife?… She is energetic and STRONG… She has NO FEAR of winter… She is clothed with STRENGTH…

Proverbs 31:10, 17, 21, 25

The Proverbs 31 woman is a lot of things- domestic and lovely, successful and well-respected, But most repeated, she is STRONG! Not anything like the passive and weak woman we are so often encouraged to be! She has no fear of winter – the difficult times to come – and is most definitely not limited to planning weddings and using crock pots!

It got me thinking go the times I have had to be strong…

When 2 years into my marriage, when we should have been comparing paint swatches for the living room and eating breakfast in bed (or whatever it is that newlyweds do!) but instead we were battling it out in screaming matches and trying to decided what we would do with the house in the event of a divorce.

…When The Lord asked me to forgive my husband, and when even more clearly, I begged God kicking and screaming to let me move on, to give me permission to break ties with the man I was petrified would hurt me once again! But how the Lord never wavered.

How I was furious and shaken, but STRONG enough to choose to please the Lord above all else and embark on a journey to learn to love my husband again. And for the record, I am so incredibly glad I did!

How years later, we faced an unimaginable tragedy in our church while my husband was away at summer camp. How I wanted nothing more then for my husband to walk through the door, so I could immerse myself into the comfort of his arms, allowing myself to freely fall into a heap of tears with the one person who shared my mutual heartache. And how it never happened…

Because upon returning home, my husband made only one request: we not cry. How instead, he wanted to watch the news footage covering the accident over… and… over… and lay on floor and listen to worship music until late into the night. How he needed me there, and how more than anything he needed me to be STRONG!

How impossible it felt (how impossible it would’ve been apart from the Lord!) but how I sought hard to find my strength in Christ, relying on Him wholeheartedly for my comfort so that I could be strong for my husband, so that in return, he could be strong for so many others as their Pastor!

Oh, how my soul longed in those moments, for a woman to have opened up and spoken to me as a college freshman about THAT! To have a woman stand before me, vulnerable about her overwhelming fears and unworthiness, but of God’s immeasurable strength available to us in spite of it!

And so if I could teach a class on christian womanhood, and if all of you reading were my exceptionally lovely students, I would tell you that the most breathtaking picture of a ‘christian woman’ is not merely a sweet, modest, well-spoken, domestic goddess – but the woman whose strength and unshakeable faith lifts up all those around her despite the circumstance or ‘winter’ she has found herself in. (Prov. 31:21)

I’d tell you that no matter how beautiful of a bride you make, that one day your marriage may feel hopeless. And to remember when that day comes, it’s not a direct reflection of the INADEQUACY of you, but the potential GREATNESS of God if we allow Him to restore the broken pieces left of our hearts, and our vows.

That one day, the strong men we marry may need OUR strength to literally and physically pick them up off the floor, and that it won’t be a damn crock pot that will save the day, but the fire deep within us to FIGHT for our marriages and for our husbands to be the godly men that the Lord desires them to be!

Because the truth is, EVERYONE can let us down. But by choosing to find our strength in Christ, there is NOTHING God can’t grant us, and NOTHING He can not restore!

We need only to turn to Him, for He is the only one capable of giving life to our broken hearts and the strength we need to keep holding on.

And it would be as simple as that.

Class is dismissed.

Worthy of Rubies

“Who can find a virtuous and capable wife? She is more precious than rubies.”

– Proverbs 31:10

Over the years I have received lots of (unsolicited) advice on how to be a good wife…even long before I ever was one!

One of the first instances came when I was only a teenager. I can clearly remember the woman that had stood before me; sporting perfectly pressed clothes, flawlessly curled hair, and much too strong of perfume. Even more clear was how much I hated her. Especially when she began to speak on the importance of looking good for your future husband. I can remember her words exactly as she drove home the point by saying, “get out of your sweat pants, brush your hair, and put on some lipstick before your husband gets home!” And it’s quite likely that I rolled my eyes…

Or maybe, like me, you have heard a good christian wife described as being both passive and agreeable… and YOU rolled your eyes!

Even my favorite cookbook offers advice by promising that landing a man (and keeping him forever happy in your arms!) is as simple as making the recipe on the bottom of page 24 for lemon and rosemary infused “Engagement Chicken”.

And while I do find that we underestimate the super-human power of a good roast chicken and a little lipstick, my heart goes out to women! We are being tossed in all these different directions; a myriad of messages bombarding us with what kind of wife we should be!

Are we to be passive or strong? All dolled up or au-naturel? Should we strive to be a domestic goddess or a successful businesswoman?

However, in this verse it explains that the most valuable things a woman can be are virtuous and capable! This woman, who is said to be worth far more than rubies, is moral, upstanding and will do whatever is right no matter the cost! She is the picture of strength, is gifted, and well respected by others!

So how is it that we can become more virtuous? How is it that a woman can be more of a treasure in the eyes of her spouse?

In verse 30 it goes on to say… “Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.”

This rare woman puts God first above all else! When society puts priority on rock hard abs, hefty pay checks, and impeccably coordinated ensembles, she is wise enough to realize that such things will fade away in time! Instead, she chooses to find her significance in Christ and looks to become who He has designed her to be!

So it could be said that the better advice – according to the Bible this time – would be to BE the kind of woman (or man) who deeply loves their spouse, but loves the Lord even more!

…Because God forbid our promising chicken burns, and we forgo our ‘agreeable nature’ to give someone a piece of our mind! When our lipstick is used for much more important things like writing on the wall (thanks to a toddler that has us thisclose to losing our minds) and when our sweats, for the life of us, wont stop calling our name! Even amidst our deepest feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness, we can rest in the fact that It is our character and virtue that is the rare quality that sets us apart from the majority!

And like an irreplaceable treasure to her spouse,

A bounty worth far more than rubies,

So is the woman who above all else, loves the Lord and desires to be more like Him!

Give Me Faith (To Trust What You Say)

THIS. Is better than anything I could write.

I don’t care how you listen to it, JUST DO IT! I promise, you wont regret it.

Listen to it while you brush your teeth, or as you comb your hair. Put your phone in a bowl – yes, you heard right! – to amplify the uh-maziness and transform your bathroom into that of a worship concert complete with mood altering lights, and worship pastor’s wearing hipster beanies and skinny jeans!

(And by the way, if you haven’t tried the phone-in-a- bowl- trick then you have NO idea what you are missing! Hint: The bigger the bowl, the bigger the dance party! #YouCanThankMeLater)

You can listen to it as you eat your wheaties, listen to it during a tantrum (hopefully your child’s, and not yours!) listen to it as you make dinner, as you sort laundry, or between watching reruns of the Real Housewives of New Jersey! You know you do it!

Listen to it in a bowl,

in a dish,

with a fish.

In a bar,

with a car.

Listen to it ANYWHERE,

wherever you are!

Seriously, I need to lay off the Dr. Seuss. And for the record, don’t try listening to it in a dish… that wont work. Nor would listening to it in a bar I would presume, but I wont judge!

Just listen to the dang song, and LIKE IT!

Or I wont like you!

I’m kidding…

sort of.

I may be weak,

But your spirit’s strong in me.

My flesh may fail,

My God, you never will!

When What You Have, Is Not Enough

I could see the man struggling up ahead; battling the autumn wind as it blew the garbage can he was pulling, over in a fury. Tossing all of its contents out on the street, I watched from afar as the man ran around in a frenzy as the wind whisked everything in opposite directions, each piece seemingly on a mission of it’s own! And just as he had steadied the garbage can long enough to fill it with each of the runaway scraps, almost instantaneously, another frigid gust of wind blew again, causing a wave of trash to spill onto the street once again!

“Bad day…” is all he said as he walked by.

I smiled, because that’s all he had to say.

We’ve all been there. Working feverishly, when a gust of wind so massive and strong, leaves our efforts spilled out on the pavement. As the wind continues to blow, we grasp aimlessly at all that is whirling around us! And just when we have steadied ourselves, and nearly dusted off all the dirt from our clothes… Poof! Another gust blows it all right back in our face again!

Damn wind.

I dont know about you, but for me it’s been a ‘crayon on the walls – milk on the couch – hot pink stickers on the floors – earrings in the garbage – “look mommy, I colored my white sneakers with your red lipstick!” kind of week! A week in which you find – you aren’t nearly as surprised as you should be – that you found a piece of uncooked pasta in your bed, and that you struggle to determine when it was that you last took a shower!

You know you’ve endured a week like this, when you are envious of even your own instagram pictures- portraits portraying the perfect little ‘tantrum-less’ family, bright blue skies, picturesque cityscapes, and more ‘glow’ and less ketchup on the faces of your children thanks to the lo-fi filter!

And although occurrences like these don’t make it a bad week, I think we could all agree it can definitely make it a windy one at best!

And just as I was settling into bed one night, weary, and bracing for another day of mayhem, this thought came to my mind…

Give thanks for what is NOT enough.

I thought back to a message I had heard years ago by Bishop T.D. Jakes on the feeding of the 5,000. A story that no doubt, the majority of us learned back in grade school thanks to a soft spoken sunday school teacher, wearing a gold cross around her neck, and manning the flannel graph board! (The lesson falling somewhere between putting your quarters in the plastic church steeple for offering, and getting star stickers for reciting your memory verse!)

In Matthew 14, Jesus spends the day with a large crowd of people. As it gets later, the people become hungry, and instead of turning them away and sending them home, Jesus instructs the disciples to feed them.

Looking at what they had, the disciples questioned their ability to do this for obvious reasons…

“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.

“Bring them here to me,” he said… taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves.

Taking the little they had to offer, Jesus gave thanks to God!

He gave thanks for what was not enough!

Surely there was no possible way that 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish would feed 20 people, let alone 5,000! But Jesus was thankful for it regardless.

Only after he gave thanks, did that which was NOT enough, become MORE than enough! And not only were they able to feed every one of the 5,000, but in the end, they even had some left over!

The truth is – if we were really honest – we would admit that we too desire for God to bless us with more than enough! And yet, so often we refuse to acknowledge what we already have!

We want a bigger house, a better paying job, a more exciting opportunity (and god only knows in my case, a better behaved toddler, Michelle Obama’s arms, and a bigger kitchen… ) but the fact of the matter is, we need to stop complaining about what we don’t have, and thank God for what we already do have! Even, when it is NOT enough!

This last week I felt even more, God pressing me to admit when I am not enough – not enough as a mom, not enough as a wife, and not enough as a woman! The times when the winds are raging and I want to throw up my hands and give up. The days I don’t have enough patience… enough energy… enough time…. and not nearly enough paper towels! The days I want to light pinterest on fire and watch it burn, or curse out the friend on Facebook who insists on giving daily play backs on how ‘uhhhhmazing’ their workout was!

I could feel the Lord asking me to come to Him – the same way the disciples had – and bring to Him my feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness.

I love how Jesus responds in verse 18, when the disciples come to Him and admit that what they possess couldn’t possibly be enough. His response is simple, ‘Bring it to me’.

Jesus didn’t turn them away for their lack of faith, or talk them into believing that what they had would suffice,

He only asked that they put the little they DID have, in His hands.

And so I told the Lord, that I wasn’t enough… I admitted that at times, I am painfully insecure, and described to Him my ongoing struggle to find my identity in this world. I told him, that too often my temper flails, and negativity gets the best of me. That I panic in a cluttered room, hate the playground, and can’t for the life of me master the sock bun!

I owned all of my shortcomings, and l chose in that moment to place them all in His hands.

But I didn’t stop there…

Although I don’t have it all, I thanked him for what I DO have! I have rockstar hair, and beautiful nail beds (yes, there is such a thing believe it or not! 🙂 ) I am thoughtful, and I am bold. I don’t sweat the small stuff, and I possess a faith in the Lord that is unshakeable. I have a gift with words, and am always, ALWAYS down to go t-peeing at any given moment! Not to mention, I can make a MEAN roast chicken!

After giving myself some much-deserved credit, I realized that the potential greatness in me – that the potential greatness in ALL of us – is no different than the seemingly measly bread and fish that the disciples gave to Jesus!

But our God doesn’t see the mere amount we have to offer, He sees the potential for it to be used in a way that is far greater than we could have ever dreamed possible!

The truth is, If we desire to someday move from NOT having enough, to having MORE than enough, than we must first bring it all to Him – the fears that are looming, the money that is lacking, the joy that is missing, and the sanity that is dwindling – lay it at His feet, and thank Him…

Thank Him for what is not enough.

L is for LONELY

When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience.

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

Hi, my name is Krista

I have roughly 700 Facebook friends, and I currently reside in arguably the coolest city in the country- quite possibly even the world! I see celebrities like the average human being sees minivans (or so it would seem), and have a husband who spoils me beyond what I could possibly deserve. I have a blog, and nearly every shade of the falls trendiest nail polishes….

And yet, the last couple weeks I have been terribly LONELY.

If you have ever used the L-word to describe yourself, then you know that it feels almost shameful. And to admit it on a public platform such as this, is somewhere between the level of humiliation in admitting you’ve killed a mouse with a meat cleaver, and admitting you puked in a mixing bowl! Good times…

Admitting you are lonely is the emotional equivalent of holding an L up to your forehead for the world to see!

It brings back memories of the kid shuffling awkwardly down the bustling halls of high school, the one you try with all your might not to make eye contact with as he spills his books across the floor! This comes to mind because so often we associate being lonely, with the other L-words…

Like being a LONER…

And even more, BEING A LOSER!

I have wrestled with this all week.

And I kid you not, that while talking with my husband one night, and feeling overwhelmingly lonely, this. exact. sentence – in all of its ridiculousness – came sputtering out of my mouth…

“I feel like a princess locked up in a tower, desperately awaiting my prince to come release me!!! But he’s too busy jet setting around Manhattan; living his dream, attending important meetings, going to trendy restaurants ….and wearing red pants!”

I said this eyeing him, and the trace of barbecue sauce that my daughter so graciously smeared on my shirt, knowing full well the only things I did worthy of noting this last week, was conduct a manhunt for our daughter’s missing toothbrush, less than successfully put on fake tanning lotion, and search every store in an attempt to find mayonnaise for less than $7.00!

My husband’s response was sweet, in spite of my mellow dramatic princess analogy – and deep-rooted jealousy in his ability to wear red pants – and offered to take me out for some fro-yo.

But the next day the unsettling feeling of loneliness began stirring again. Why? I couldn’t put my finger on it. I wouldn’t say I was homesick… I love my new life! And it’s not that I don’t have friends… strangely enough I turned down multiple invitations from my friends to get together! Even more strange though, because I stood them up so I could stay home to sulk, and be lonely! Yeah, don’t be like me…

It’s interesting though, because according to a study done by the University of Chicago, I am not the only one with this dysfunctional mindset! In the study it was found that when we are most lonely, we engage in what scientists call ‘social evasion’ which is acting upon the belief that isolating ourselves from others is key to our survival- when really it could be said that the exact opposite is true!

When we are lonely, we become less concerned with interactions and more concerned with self preservation. And yet we don’t realize that while trying to protect ourselves from harm, we are actually causing more harm by refusing to connect with others!

So there I was, ‘locked away in a tower’ – or so I pathetically put it – not even realizing that I was the one who held the key! (and unfortunately for me, not even my uber-cool, red pants wearing, Manhattanite of a husband had a spare!) I was the only person capable of getting me out of this funk. with exception of course, to Justin Timberlake… or so I’d like to think!

In the book ‘Feelings; Converting Negatives To Positives’, Dr. Gloria Willcox describes how to change the most negative feelings into positive ones.

In the case with loneliness, she outlines how in order to move from feeling lonely we have to become more sensuous.

She goes on to say that “Our emotions are directly tied to that which pleases our senses, and so it is with loneliness. A lack of pleasing stimulation of the senses – sight (the beauty of a smile), hearing (the sound of a greeting), smell (a gift of flowers), taste (a shared meal), and touch (a warm hug) – can leave us feeling empty and emotionally distressed.”

Now if you are anything like me, and have trouble describing the way in which your senses were pleased as being little more than hearing Matt Lauer’s voice on the TODAY show, the taste of Kraft macaroni and cheese, and the smell of a dirty diaper – than not only could I put money down on the fact that you are a stay at home mom – but its also very likely that you are secretly yearning for more! Quite possibly even, locked away in loneliness.

The truth is, no matter how successful a person is, or how ideal their life may look on Facebook, not one of us is exempt from feeling lonely! And that loneliness is a desperate cry from senses that are longing to be ignited!

No matter what has led you to the place of loneliness that you may currently find yourself in – a heartbreak or tragedy, a big move or a new job – I would encourage you this week to step back and seek God. Inquire whether withdrawing from those around you is indeed helping you, or hindering you.

Just like me, you may find that your choice in treatment, might also be the same poison making you more sick.

And so this last weekend, I searched for avenues in which I could better activate my senses, and lull my loneliness.

I chose phone calls over texting, and took my head phones out on the bus to make small talk with a 75 year old woman that was (no joke) dressed waaaay better than me! We rolled around in the leaves and got splinters in Central Park, and instead of braving the masses of tourists and hipsters at the restaurant down the street, we opted for a much quieter Friday night, eating gyros on a park bench taking in the warmth of the air and the reflection of the sun setting over the water.

And although, I have in no way completely slain the raging beast of loneliness in my life, I did find that each time I courageously stepped out, that I did feel more fulfilled. And with each new ounce of fulfillment, there was that much less room for loneliness to reside.

… And above all else, I realized that L isn’t for Loser, its for Lonely!

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Psalm 34:8

Forgive Anyway

This week I chose forgiveness…

It started 6 months ago, when a mantra stirred at my heart, and laid the foundation to forgive those responsible for the deepest wounds hidden away in my heart.

It goes like this…

Most people, most of the time, are doing the best that they can.

As simple as it was, this mantra reminded me of the most unflattering parts I had played; the times I had shunned -or even worse, led others on- because I didn’t want to reveal my true feelings at the risk of hurting theirs. Only to later, abandon them completely without even a word of explanation.

The times where someone I loved, hurt me so deeply that I ‘got even’ in a way that bordered on betrayal… The things I let myself do when I was young and ‘in love’… the decisions I made because I ‘wanted to be accepted’ …

And when I took a good look at my life, I saw that most of the time, I was doing the best that I could.

It also helped me to see that the boy who stole my heart, and lied to me endlessly (even down to his flippin’ name!) was also dealing with an abundant amount of pressure from the starry eyed girl, with big dreams, and even higher expectations! The pressure I put on him to be something that he wasn’t!

It helped me forgive the friend who had seemingly abandoned me in my moment of desperation -because looking back, I can now see that I failed to acknowledge that my circumstances were flooding her with painful memories of when, she too experienced a similar situation years before.

That the family member who never seems to understand the deep-seated hurt I’ve harbored towards them, couldn’t possibly grasp the immensity of how I feel – not because they don’t believe the feelings to be real – but because I have never once attempted to articulate it to them!

Looking back, I found it to be true…

Most people, most of the time, were doing the best that they could..

It doesn’t make what they’ve done ok, it helps me to forgive.

It doesn’t give them an excuse for their actions, it gives me a better understanding!

And after months of looking at the past through that lens, I could feel God calling me to forgive;

To forgive, even in the absence of an apology.

He went even further by pressing me to apologize! To ask forgiveness from someone that I had sought to forgive myself!

So this last week, after a handful of sleepless nights and a few long, drawn out prayer sessions – where it’s quite plausible that I begged God with all-that-I-had to reconsider! – I did decide to step out and own the hurts I had inflicted.

In the end, my heartfelt request for forgiveness would be accepted; but I would not get an apology back.

Even still, I could clearly hear the Lord asking me to forgive anyway…

And so, I took full ownership for what I had done – without making excuses or pointing fingers – and worked hard to not expect anything in return. I didn’t get answers, nor did I ask for them. I still don’t understand why, and have little hope that I ever will…

But the Lord never wavered,

Forgive anyway!

After I had finished the job at hand, I fully expected to see God looking down at me with a twinkle in his eye, exclaiming, “Well done my good and faithful servant!”, and leaning in to give me a congratulatory smack me on the rear as I exited the game.

Yet instead, the Lord crouched down next to me, tears in His eyes and thoughts of my childhood heavy on His heart;

Thoughts of the little girl who felt the pangs of betrayal, long before the butterflies of a first kiss. The girl who came far too close to giving up on Santa, role models, and daddies at nearly all the same time, and who would learn what it felt like to be truly rejected at the age when most kids, only understood it to mean getting picked last for the kickball team.

The very thought had my knees on the verge of giving out, and my heart ablaze in the hollowness of my chest.

How could I have forgotten…

There was still someone very significant left to forgive! A person rooted DEEP in my past, and unmistakably GUILTY.

I looked up to find His eyes gentle and full of understanding; knowing that nothing could erase those years of turmoil, or could possibly mend that little girl’s broken heart. Yet, even still, The Lord lovingly whispered,

“My Child,

Forgive them anyway…“

And so it would seem, that this weeks lesson in forgiveness, has only been a practice session…

The weak can never forgive.

Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

-Mahatma Gandhi

#NoWords

It isn’t often that I am rendered speechless. But after the week I just had…

THERE.

ARE.

NO.

WORDS.

It started months back, when while groggy and disoriented and drinking my morning coffee, I’d swear I saw something dart across the floor…

“It couldn’t be…” — it was! And after weeks it was apparent, we had a MOUSE!

In the beginning there were tears, and other times, just an overabundance of curse words!

I bought traps, and deep cleaned every surface…

I even went as far to adamantly deny my daughter’s request for anything Mickey Mouse, and prohibit the story of “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” from every being read in our household.

Once, I even placed my daughter’s stuffed dog to ‘guard’ the living room in a (failed) attempt at intimidating the mice into staying away while we slept…A failed attempt, because when I woke up one morning I found two holes punctured through the top of the plastic wrap that I had placed over brownies the night before! The entire top layer EATEN!

Needless to say, we spent that entire next weekend tearing a part our apartment and searching out even the tiniest of holes! We laid out poison and countless traps, we even called an exterminator! Even still, the mouse would return! … Over and over… FOR 3 MONTHS!!!

Which brings me to this week: where the better half of the first night was spent balancing my body weight on strategically placed chairs, all while prodding the mouse to come out from behind the refrigerator with a Swiffer. While the next night, we sat down to smell the rotting carcass of another mouse that decided to croak under our couch. (And at that point, because I had already tried everything else, the only thing I could do was take an exceedingly long shower, and spray enough Febreeze to intoxicate me into forgetting that this is my life!)

But that was only a temporary fix! Because little did we know what was in store for us the NEXT night…

It all began when I turned on the oven and was startled when a mouse grazed the top of my foot as it scurried out from underneath in a frenzy! In that moment, I did what any logical human being would have done. I turned the oven back off, maintained composure just long enough to phone my husband, and tell him I wouldn’t be cooking. Like, EVER AGAIN!!! ( And I meant it.)

I then made a decision that would change our fate forever: I put a sticky trap directly underneath the oven, where I had just seen the mouse run from.

Interestingly enough, my husband got home unusually fast that night (probably sensing my already fragile state was now borderline skitzo) and sweetly suggested we take a nice long walk together.

But there wouldn’t be a walk long enough to prepare us for what was awaiting us back home…

Upon returning, I watched my husband slowly make his way up the steps, unlocking the door, only to stand motionless in the doorway for an uneasy amount of time.

“…I think…we caught one!” is all he had to say to get my heart racing, and have me hurrying up the stairs behind him!

Not even 2 seconds after walking into the apartment, the high-pitched screams of a mouse filled the air!

Now for those of you who’ve never heard a mouse scream, I have heard it best described this way…

It’s kind of like those ‘ocean wave cd’s’ with the sounds of the ocean on it… except there’s no ocean wave sounds. It’s just a mouse, SCREAMING FOR IT’S FRICKIN’ LIFE!!!

-Taylor Williamson

To which, I concur.

And not only was it SCREAMING, it was staring back at us and scrambling to get loose! It’s back legs stuck in goo, but it’s front half attempting to crawl along the floor with the trap still attached to it!

Upon taking a closer look we realized that not only was there one mouse – there were TWO!!!!! — Even worse, they were eating their limbs in an attempt to set themselves free!

Seriously though,

WHAT.

WERE.

WE.

GOING.

TO.

DO!!!!!

My frantic, late-night google searches of nights past, came flooding back — stories of mice eating through the plastic bags they were placed in and crawling up the pipes, back to the apartment they came from WITH A VENGEANCE!

I cringed, and decided to use a lifeline and phone a friend. Just as she picked up, I could hear my husband’s panic-stricken voice in the background, “… THERE’S 3 OF THEM!!!”

I gagged while quickly getting my friend up to speed on the science-project-gone-horribly-wrong that was going down in my kitchen!

“… I don’t know, If I were you, I would put the mice in a bag and then go outside and hit it against the brick wall until they all die!” she said, strangely calm.

It was apparent at that point that if THIS was the best advice I could get, then only one thing was certain: It was going to be a VERY loooooong night in which NO amount of febreeze would suffice!

I took a deep breath as I hung up the phone, and braced myself for the unthinkable.

First, we decided to cover each mouse so as not to have their beady eyes staring up at us! (And somewhere along the way, it’s quite possible that my husband took it upon himself to step on them, though that’s still up for debate.)

All I know for sure, is once we got to mouse #3 we realized we had a very BIG problem!

Mouse #3 was barely on the trap and was literally hanging on for dear life to the bottom of my stove!!! Every time we tried to pick up the trap, he would get a little more loose… a little more loose…

I paced back and forth, hyperventilating at the thought of the third one getting away and telling all his mouse friends about the bullies in Apt 2N that needed to be ‘taught a lesson.’ We couldn’t have that happen…

Understand: We were desperate! And it was just a matter of time before they escaped…

(Enter: The Meat Mallet)

In the end, what we did with that meat mallet would no doubt have Bobby Flay’s skin crawling. However, we DID indeed get mouse #3 to let go!

… And once the screaming mice had been silenced, and somewhere between mopping the blood off the floor, and bickering back and forth about whether the meat mallet was still usable, a victory dance ensued right there next to the dishwasher and the box of Honey Bunches of Oats. #ThereAreNoWords

… So class, what did we learn?

We learned that unlike the literary classic claims, its not ‘Giving A Mouse A Cookie’ that’s the problem, its giving him a damn BROWNIE that will have you dishing out more than you bargained for!

And seriously, you absolutely MUST get yourself a meat mallet. Like, pronto! Yah know, #JustInCase

Goodnight kittens, Goodnight mittens,

Goodnight clocks, Goodnight socks,

Goodnight house, and… GOODNIGHT MOUSE!

-Goodnight Moon, with special emphasis.