dancing {the post I couldn't write}

Before she could walk, Emmerson could dance. As a former dancer, it does my heart so good to see her moved by music. Dancing with her is one of my favorite things (next to dancing with Husband, of course.)

Dancing is always a release for me, a way to forget everything, even if only for a few minutes. It also gives me reason to be silly and carefree, let go a little. (We could all use a little "let go" time, yeah?)

In my short 27 years, I've learned that life is full of seasons. And the thing about seasons is they are guaranteed to change. Which is scary and refreshing. As much as I love cold weather, I wouldn't enjoy a life of only winter. I hate the summer heat, but I welcome the warm after the cold. To survive these seasons, you have to dance. You have to move from one step to another.

I can appreciate this season because I lived through the last one. I can look forward to the next season because I've learned from the present one. I'll be the first to admit that I don't always dance gracefully through each of life's seasons. Quite the opposite in some most cases. Some seasons require a slow ballet, others an angry lyrical. A beautiful duet with husband, or a quick enthusiastic Charleston. More than anything, I find myself childishly dancing on the shoes of my Creator. Willingly (or un-willingly) allowing Him to lead.

I've been avoiding my blog, (minus the small, fun updates of Emmerson.) I've been pushing back my desire to write about life and what God has done in our lives.

I've been ignoring it completely because this post demands my ugly, flawed heart to be brought into light. It requires me to be vulnerable, imperfect, and every other "bad" word a Christian (let alone a pastor's wife) should be.

Keeping this inside has done nothing but destroy me from the inside out.
It started in my heart.
It took over my mind.
It took captive my thoughts.
It controlled my mouth.
It possessed my body.

The last "deep" post I wrote was in October, the day before we told the world we were moving. Accurately titled, "when it is not well with my soul". (You'll probably want to read that one first, if you haven't already.)

I re-read that blog often and long for the faith of that author. I wish I had her peace. I wish I knew her truths. Which is crazy, because I definitely wrote that myself. But that Lauren, she might as well be a stranger.

Somewhere between writing that post and where I am today,
I forgot to say "it is well with my soul."
Chant "it is well with my soul."
Weep "it is well with my soul."
Whisper "it is well with my soul."
Scream "it is well with my soul."

I have allowed internal and external battles to take my faith, little by little, away from me.

Moving.
New house.
New church.
New people.
New city.
New life.

I was stripped of my music. I felt alone on stage, in the dark. I forgot who was holding me. I forgot who was guiding me, step by step. I forgot who knew the next move before I even got there.

I remember now. That the same God that brings cold seasons, is the same God that brings new life in spring. I can find enough joys in today to get me to tomorrow. I don't always remember all the steps, and I can't even tell you what the next song is, but I can dance right now. I can delight in His presence, give thanks in the suffering, and keep showing up to the party.
I can (and will) say, "it is well with my soul."

My desire is to become a professional dancer with Christ. To be the well rested, well rehearsed partner that leans on the Leader. I hope and pray that Emmerson continues to dance (both physically and spiritually) and my heart equally prays to be that example for her.

No matter what season, no matter what song, dance. Dance, baby girl. He's got you.

we went to florida! {a video}

Whirlwind road trip with my rockstar traveler.

Husband and I got to spend a few days without the babe and it felt so good to "dream" with him. I feel new things coming, and I can't wait to sit down and type them all out. In the meantime, enjoy a fun little video I put together of our trip.

Happy Monday, y'all!

snow day {a video}

{press play}

Cold day.

Sick day.

Snow day!

Picture day.

Playing day.

Can't build a snowman day!

Pajama Day.

Snuggle Day.

Daddy home from work day!

Last year's day in the snow {here}

one year ago today... (part two) {a video}

(read part one here)

By 3am, the thought of sleep was laughable.

So I took a bath, pausing for contractions.

Took a shower, pausing for contractions.

Blow dried and straightened my hair, pausing for contractions.

When 6am rolled around, I was done.

"Hey, Brandon...my contractions are basically 5 minutes a part and I'm over it. 

We're going to the hospital now."

Immediately followed by a mini panic attack.

"I'm not ready. I can't do this. Never mind."

With a healing hug from Husband, I was back in the game.

Being the over-planner I am, the bags were packed weeks before and we were ready!

(With one last stop at McDonalds for my biggest pregnancy craving, hash browns.)

That's when the peace came.

I was scared, sure.

But, I knew what the outcome would be.

I knew I'd be holding Emmerson soon and nothing else mattered.

Once we were settled into the room, we noticed my body wasn't progressing as much as my contractions were leading on.

Talks of sending me home to labor began and my knight in shining armor stepped in and came to my rescue.

"She's been having consistent contractions for over 24 hours. She's miserable. We can't leave."

With a little help, my labor was induced and then we waited.

4 hours after the epidural, it was time to push.

With my husband on one side, my mom on the other, and my good friend/nurse coaching us, the rest was an intense blur.

5 contractions later and Emmerson made her grand entrance.

I remember tears.

I remember baby cries.

I remember saying, "Oh, hi, Emmerson." "Oh, hi!"

She was perfect.

Sweet little fingers.

Sweet black hair.

Sweet scrunched face.

Everything about our labor and delivery was sweet.

Everything worked out perfectly, out of state family and all.

Tears have been my constant companion over the past few days, trying to swallow the fact that I now have a one year old!

This year has been challenging, to say the least, but more rewarding than I ever imagined.

Here's to you, sweet girl.

You will forever be my always.

one year ago today... (part one)

One year ago today, I was 39 weeks pregnant and woke up to sharp pains.

I immediately started praying.

"Lord, is this labor? Please give me clear labor signs!"

I found an app that recorded contractions (there's an app for that!) and started counting.

The pains continued, 8-10 minutes apart...

"Is this real?"

I eventually decided to get up and casually said to Husband,

"Hey! I've been having steady contractions for about an hour now. Want some scrambled eggs?"

My 39 week appointment was a few hours away, so we figured waiting was best. 

With my contractions being 8-10 minutes apart, I knew they'd send me home anyway.

The Dr. gave me the news I didn't want to hear.

"No progression. Go home and wait. Could be tomorrow, could be 2 weeks!"

Lunch at Outback, pausing for contractions.

Walking around the mall, pausing for contractions.

Napping was useless, waking for contractions.

I began to worry, 

"If this isn't labor, how much longer with these consistent contractions?"

Dinner at Chick-fil-A, pausing for contractions.

Walking around Target, pausing for contractions.

It was 10pm and I needed sleep, so we called it a night, not knowing when our little girl would finally join us.

Sweet Husband took the floor so I could stretch and get comfortable.

Despite my exhaustion, sleep did not come easily.

I learned to sleep during the minutes between contractions, as they worsened and came quicker...

to be continued...