Archive for Blog Posts
Celebrity Stalking
This one is both a little hard for me to admit, and a little bit exhilarating at the same time. I have done something so completely out of my comfort zone that I’m still just a little surprised by myself. I have officially stalked a celebrity…with a purpose. Does that make it any less creepy? I didn’t want an autograph, I didn’t want a picture, and I didn’t even try to give him Sarah’s number. I know what you’re thinking…it’s still stalking.
The celebrity was Kris Humphries. For those not-in-the-know enough (i.e. husband & brother-in-law), Kris is an NBA player from Minnesota who played for New Jersey until becoming a free agent earlier this year. Most recently known for his blink-and-you-missed-it marriage to none other than Kim Kardashian, Kris was thrust into the spotlight during his relationship with the media mistress. While he surely became more comfortable with the cameras following his every move, I’m not sure he was quite ready for the mom in the beige Honda minivan camped outside his white Mercedes sedan tonight.
I almost left a dozen times while I waited for him to return to the car I’d just seen him climb out of.
I’m hungry.
I’m cold.
I can think of a hundred other things I could (should) be doing right now.
I’m missing The Biggest Loser finale for this.
What in the world is taking him so long?
This is getting ridiculous.
5 more minutes and surely he’ll return.
Maybe he’s not returning because of the mom in the beige minivan.
What exactly do I expect him to say to me?
I’m pretty sure I am old enough to be his mother. I’d have been young, and he’s really tall…but I’m pretty sure I could have birthed him.
What in the world am I nervous about? He’s a child! I’ve just turned 40! I’m a small business owner! I am the lifeblood of this country! The economy depends on me!
I have conquered bigger things than him in my life! I have a purpose…a mission…and he could be the one to help me reach it! This is but one small step for me, one giant step for Mound.
And here he comes! Finally…now take a deep breath, keep it short, speak clearly and don’t sound like a crazy woman.
“KrismynameisAmandaandIliveinMoundandhaveasmallbusinessthereandhaveavisiontoreinventMoundthewaythattheotherlakeshorecommunitiehavedonebut weneedsomeonelikeyoutoopenarestaurantinordertorevitalizethedowntownareathewayweknowitcouldbebecauseweloveMoundandknowthatwecouldredelvelopthedowntownareatobereallyfabulous”
I did it.
What he does with is up to him. The point is that I did it. I got it done. I didn’t want to do it, I would have rather had someone else do it, I could come up with a dozen other people who would have done it better, but the opportunity was there and I did it!
He didn’t say much in response, and he may never think about it again, but to me it was monumental. I don’t like to do things that make me nervous. I don’t push myself out of my comfort zone. I don’t like the butterflies in my stomach and will go to great lengths to avoid them. But not tonight. Tonight I met them head on. I drove home in that beige minivan feeling quite proud – a feeling that doesn’t come too naturally for this mama.
So Kris – I thank you for your time tonight, for not calling the police on me, and for allowing me to stretch myself just a bit.
(And I do think Humphries would be a great name for a restaurant.)
Dumpster Diving
I have to admit, I did my first official dumpster dive today. Although instead of a wretched metal, smells-to-high-heaven kind of dumpster, this was a perfectly clean, much easier on the dumpster diver kind of thing. It was a “dumpster tote”, which, if you must dive for that something-or-other that is headed for the landfill, this is what you want to be diving in. Think of it as sort of the “dumpster for prissies”.
Anyhoo, I spot this great, old, beat up wooden headboard sticking it’s brave little head out of this blue tote of death, just hoping to catch the eye of some compassionate soul with a trailer (or a minivan), when low and behold…there I was!
As I assess the contents of this newfangled way to dispose of junk, I can see that there is a foot board to this treasure…and is that…could it possibly be…a wooden side rail? The price of this baby is going up by the minute! I manage to get the headboard dislodged from its undeserving place and head to the car. These are the moments that don’t happen very often…the minivan is empty of both children & the last thing I picked up on the side of the road. So I smile to myself as I flip the middle seats down, flip the back seats under & wah-lah heave the insanely heavy headboard into the Honda.
The foot board is a bit trickier, as it is lodged beneath the castoffs from an apparent bathroom remodel – you know, a random toilet, shower doors, a sink, that kind of thing. As I’m tugging & pulling I notice a van pulling to a stop. Did I just get busted taking someone’s trash? Is this even legal? Before I can complete the thought, this sweet old(er) man steps out of the car, cigarette lit, and heads toward me. To my delight, he’s here to help a little lady out. Ahhh…the kindness of strangers. Cigarette pinched tightly in his lips, he grabs one end, I grab the other and at last we free the foot board. The side rail is next, it comes out easily. But its partner is not as easily discovered. After a few minutes and a couple of “I don’t think it’s in there sweetie”‘s, I spot it. With a slight grimace, Mr. Stanger gives me one last hand, and out it comes…very happy to see daylight once again.
As I head to the store with my newfound treasure, I smile to myself again. This mama is happy.
I’ll reveal it’s fabulous new made-over-self later this week. Stay tuned! Man I love this stuff.
Mama is Tired Post
Every time we open the store we post a huge set of photos once the store is set. I decided we should start calling this the “Mama is tired post”. All the shop owners have put in many hours to get ready and the store looks fantastic. Check out all the new pieces.
Mama is Purging Like Crazy!
Not sure what got into Amanda, but she is on a mission. She has completely emptied the basement at the store into the downstairs Art Fair space. Studio 110 has been turned into a small version of the Junk Bonanza/Flea Market. Come and see the deals.
The Gift
Humility is a beautiful thing to behold. It’s a shame that it’s such a rarity these days.
I was recently the recipient of a gift humbly given, by a giver I have never met. This is our story.
When I came up with the name Mama’s Happy for my store, I was quickly deflated by the news that mamashappy.com had already been taken by some anonymous genius out in cyberspace. Husband quickly gave me my options…”mamashappy.net”, “thismamashappy.com”, “mymamashappy.com”, and so on. A bit irritated that I was having to settle for something less than what I wanted, I chose “mamashappyonline.com”, not because I loved it, but because it was a mere second to the fabulously perfect sound of “mamashappy.com.”
And so my adventure began! Mama’s Happy opened its doors, the website began to get traffic, and I never looked back. I didn’t have time to!
Then late one night, while sleepily ordering business cards (my gift to myself after our second sale was a success), I made a mistake.
A few days later those (500) cards arrived. Clearly sleep deprived, and with no business doing graphic design after midnight, I had entered my very own email address incorrectly. I didn’t even notice at first, but proudly handed a card to husband, sure his praises would quickly follow. “You know that’s not your email, right? We don’t own mamashappy.com, we own mamashappyonline.com…so your email is amanda [at] mamashappyonline [dot] com.”
What? Are you kidding me? There it was…on all 500 business cards…amanda [at] mamashappy [dot] com…that has to be it, it looks so cute, so perfect, as if meant to be. But instead, my email address looks more like a run-on sentence that wouldn’t begin to fit across my darling little vertically-designed business cards. What was a girl to do?
I did what every other woman out there would do – begrudgingly reprinted them with my ridiculously long email address – and then vowed to become such a success that I could knock on the door of the company that owned my domain name and insist that they give it up. They’ll refuse, I’ll take them to court, my children & the town sitting in the seats behind me, cheering, and the judge will declare it mine…they’ll make a movie…
Then one night (back in reality) I was sitting with my laptop and started thinking about the company that must own mamashappy.com. What do they sell? Where are they based? I wondered as I typed it in. Nothing. So someone owns the domain but hasn’t done anything with it? Could that seriously be the case? My search began. Who is it that owns the greatest domain name ever conceived? Could I find them? Would they sell it? Would they demand $10,000 for it?
That’s when I found her. There was her name in black & white…with a phone number! This cannot be possible. It has a woman’s name AND HER PHONE NUMBER?? Oh what the heck – I dialed her up. Left a long and rambling message (the kind my husband deletes halfway through, figuring he already knows the important part) trying to explain who I was, what I wanted, that I didn’t really have any money, but would she ever consider selling the domain to my measly little brand new business in Minnesota…and so on.
Sure that I had not found the correct owner, and would certainly never hear from her, I didn’t give it too much thought.
And then the call came. The sweetest voice on the other end. She told me who she was and that she had looked at my website and loved what we were doing. She explained how she had thought it was a cute name herself, and perhaps a good business someday, so she had bought the domain name, but never done anything with it.
“I want you to have it.”
“What?!”
“I want you to have it. You’ve got a great thing going, you’ve done so much with it already, you should have it.”
“You can’t just give it to me. But I don’t have very much money to offer you. How could you possibly want to just give it to me?”
“I want to bless you with it. It is my joy to give this to you.”
I was speechless. I was humbled.
Where was the demand for a big payoff? The desire to keep it herself to make it into something bigger & better than I had ever dreamed. Where was…self-centeredness? Pride? After all, she had thought about it long before me.
I’ll tell you where. Nowhere in this woman’s heart. She stood pure & pleasing before our God. She trusted Him. She believed that what was hers was ultimately His, and therefore could be freely given as she felt no selfish ties. A single mother. A working mother trying to make ends meet, and she gave it to me. She just gave it to me.
I looked at my own heart. Would I have done the same? I’d like to think so, but I know differently. She taught me so much in the blessing of a name. A name I thought was rightfully mine, yet was actually hers. A name I felt entitled to, though it was entitled to her.
And so it is with the Lord. We think happiness & blessings are rightfully ours, yet they are rightfully His. We think riches & health are things we’re entitled to, though they’re only entitled to Him.
We are blessed because He blesses. We receive because He gives.
Humbly signed,
(soon-to-be) amanda [at] mamashappy [dot] com
Today’s Word is Boundary
Boundary: The space that only I can create between a sane, healthy & effective me, and the wonderful things and people that will destroy me if I let them.
As I get older, I am getting better at the art of setting healthy boundaries. I don’t have it mastered. After all, I am a woman. Women are notoriously poor at boundaries. I’m not totally sure why other women struggle with this, but here’s why I struggled with it.
For me, it was pride. I was asked to volunteer because my talents would be perfectly suited for the need and no one could do it quite like me, or so I was told. Being convinced that they were right, flattered that they asked, and fearful of what would come crashing down if I declined the opportunity, as well as hopeful of being the hero, I said yes, although my schedule was already full and I was not passionate about the cause. That’s pride.
When I was in my mid-30s, I took far longer than I should have to leave a stressful job that was incompatible with my values for my family because I didn’t see anyone within the company who could possibly do what I was doing the way I did it. I was afraid I’d leave the company in an awful lurch if I left them with such an incredible void to fill. I called this decision “loyalty.” Within reason, sometimes this type of loyalty has its place. In this situation, it was misplaced loyalty. When I finally left the position, the company didn’t replace me. Not because I was irreplaceable, but because what I was doing was not as important as I thought it was. Very humbling. Did I mention that I went through this same humbling experience not once, not twice, but three times before I realized that companies and organizations live on even after I leave? That’s pride.
I said yes to far too many 24-hour-turnaround favors because I wanted to be the “good friend”, the “good daughter”, the “good neighbor”. I wanted to be well-thought-of and well-loved. I tried to manipulate people into loving me because of the wonderful things I did for them. That’s pride.
I let my family run all over me, turning myself inside out to meet their every whim, and then resenting them for having the nerve to ask. I undermined my husband’s place within our home by asking him to do a chore, and then ripping it back out of his hands because it wasn’t done soon enough, well enough, ME enough. Then I played the martyr. “See?! If I don’t do it, it won’t get done. And it HAS to get done!” About 82% of the time, the task was already done “well enough” or could wait or at least wouldn’t create world calamity if it never got done at all.
Once I could honestly assess my reasons for over-extending myself and not being able to say no, I could take action. Just because someone asks, I don’t have to say yes. Just because there’s a need, I don’t have to meet it. Just because it’s important, doesn’t mean that I should do it.
Most importantly, God doesn’t NEED me in order to run HIS world. He DESIRES a relationship with me. He LETS me take part in His work. He PREPARES good works in advance for me to do. But His will, His purposes WILL be done with or without me. What a relief!!
I have a CHOICE. I can set BOUNDARIES. I can accept RESPONSIBILITY. If I’m strung out, exhausted, resentful, there are likely at least a few things on my plate that I can CHOOSE to move off, for now or forever. If I don’t, there’s a high price to be paid by me, by my family and by the good works or priorities that God has intended for me to focus on.
Now, when I feel tempted to say yes, unless it’s a pressing need that requires an answer right away, I wait and tell the person who asks, “Let me get back to you. I appreciate your asking and I want to make sure that I can take that on before I say yes.” Then I consider my honest reasons for saying yes. If it’s because I truly feel called to do it, and it’s compatible with my availability and my values, I say yes gladly and don’t look back. If my reasons for saying less are because I fear what will happen if I say no, or because I want kudos, valor or love, I check my pride and say no…usually. I’m a work in progress, after all. When I say no, the person who’s asking doesn’t crumble in sadness or whine that they can never find another person to do the job. They move right on to the next person on their list, and (usually) keep on loving me just as much as they did before.
I guess I’m not “all that”. And that’s a relief, because it frees me up to set boundaries in my life, live more simply, more humbly and more peacefully.
Today’s Other Word is….Sarcus
Sarcus: (sahr-kus) Euphoric bliss in this very moment that takes you by surprise, defies words and makes you want to hold onto it forever. Supreme awareness of the gift of right now. A belly laugh inside your soul.
No 40-word lexicon of my 40 years on this earth would be complete without the word sarcus. I’ve never seen it in a dictionary. I don’t know if it even truly exists. But it does in my family, thanks to my son Jack.
Ever a whirring bucket of peak-and-valley emotions, my elder son Jack takes after me in that he feels the highest of highs, the lowest of lows, and is a complete stranger to the word “even-keel”.
One particularly fun day full of excursions he enjoys, very few chores and no school, when he was experiencing a single moment of sheer joy, he turned to me with a smile and said, “Mom, you know that really good feeling you feel inside, when everything’s just….good. And you just feel….good?” I said that yes, I did know that feeling. “I call that Sarcus,” Jack said.
The term stuck.
Since then, every once in awhile when we’re laughing at a joke, or playing with the dog or snuggling as he’s occasionally still willing to do in the privacy of our home, though he’s entering sixth grade, Jack turns to me and says, “Mom. I’m feeling Sarcus.” And I know that today’s a very, very good day.
We’ve even added a French flair to the word for when life’s really great. It’s called “Beaucoup Sarcus.”
I love that I live a life that includes a private family language of love that defies the words Webster was able to capture, and I hold tightly onto these simple moments of sheer joy. How come I am so blessed?
I want to discover and experience more sarcus in life, and I believe it’s there to be experienced in every life, despite any circumstance, if you’re willing to see it and claim it for your own. Not someday. Not “if only”. Not “as long as” or “as soon as”. Now.
Today, my friend, I wish you beaucoup sarcus. May you find it where you are and bloom where you’re planted.
The word of the day is VICTORY
Day 3 (2 days late….I’ve got some catching up to do…)
VICTORY: If one of the best, most memorable ones, looks remarkably like defeat just before it occurs.
Bruised Reeds & Smoldering Wicks: Hope for Victory in the Midst of What Looks Like Defeat on its Way
I could tell you one of two stories of my life. Version 1 centers around the same recurring issue in my marriage that we’ve wrestled with since before were first married. It’s a biggie, and it has to do with money. When this issue rears its head, it consumes me. It drives me away from my husband Tom emotionally. It makes me want to run away, or call a Do-Over for my life. It dominates my view of our relationship. It makes me feel hopeless, defeated. It seems all-important to me, as if nothing can be right, ever, unless this gets fixed. What’s worse, it makes me very angry with God. I’ve prayed about this issue for 15 years and it appears that God either doesn’t hear me, or has said, “Nope. I won’t fix this for you.”
Version 2 of my life story is just as true, about the abundant blessings I’ve been given. In this version, I’d tell you of two wonderful sons, fulfilling ministry roles in a church we love, a spiritually rich life full of friends in a small Midwest town where the schools are good, life is affordable. And on most days Tom makes me laugh, and even does my laundry and takes out the garbage without being asked.
But lately, the first version seems truer. I’m tempted to revert back to a familiar place in my marriage, determined to endure, but not pursuing an intimate, vibrant marriage. I’m biding my time until death mercifully parts us, having given up hope that Tom will come through for me, or that God will either, for that matter.
But God says that what I see could be different than how I perceive it. Matthew 12 says that after Jesus withdrew because the Pharisees were plotting to kill him, a lot of people followed him and he “healed all their sick warning them not to tell who he was.” Matthew references what was prophesied about Jesus: 18″Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations.19 He will not quarrel or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. 20 A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory. 21 In his name the nations will put their hope.”
The passage describes a victory by Jesus that came quietly, unexpectedly, in the midst of what looked like defeat to many, including his best friends. No quarreling. No crying out. Bruised reeds still clinging to a bit of life. Wicks still smoldering.
Sounds pretty hopeless if I were witnessing it as it unfolded. What do I do with bruised reeds and smoldering wicks? Snap them off. Snuff them out. Hurry them along to extinction because I’ve given up on them and “What’s the point? Clearly, God cannot work here. Too far gone. Time to give up hope and call it quits. I’m defeated. I prayed and prayed and God said no.”
And yet, Jesus will keep all these seemingly hopeless things alive in their frail state as opposed to giving up on them until he leads justice to victory. Victory is still possible for bruised reeds and smoldering wicks.
So what does victory really look like? How can I tell when it’s coming? I can’t. Sometimes it looks like defeat. In the story of Gideon in Judges 6-8, the Israelites, based on all appearances, are crushed down and defeated. Attacked constantly. Under siege. Impoverished and hiding out in cliffs, at the hands of the Midianites.
God sends an angel to one of the puniest guys of the bunch, Gideon. “When the angel of the LORD appeared to Gideon, he said, ‘The LORD is with you, mighty warrior.’” Judges 6:12
Gideon replied as I would, Are you talkin’ to ME?! Are you nuts?! If God’s in the midst of this, why has all this happened? “Where are all his wonders that our fathers told us about when they said, ‘Didn’t the LORD bring us up out of Egypt? But now the LORD has abandoned us and put us into the hand of Midian.”
To which God replied, as he often does in these types of confrontations, Do you KNOW WHO I AM? “Am I not sending you?”
To which Gideon replied, as I would in his shoes, “I’m the puniest guy from the weakest family here.” Translation, if you have eyes, you’ll see how hopeless my situation is.
Yada, yada, yada. Gideon doubts. Gideon asks for a sign. The Lord sends one, Gideon asks for another sign, just to be sure.
And ultimately, with a scant army of 300 men against the powerful Midianite army, God delivers a definitive, crushing victory for the Israelites. In their darkest hour. Long after they’d given up hope.
The best victories, the victories legends are made of, happen just after defeat seems inevitable.
I don’t want just to endure or bear. I don’t want to get to my sons’ graduations or our elder years, and have the best part of our conversation be, “Well, we got through it at least.”
I want to be victorious. VICTORIOUS. God promises definitive, overwhelming, undeniable victory. And He shows us again and again throughout Scripture and in the testimonies of victor after victor, that Victory is possible just a breath after we feel like we’ve finally waved the white flag for the last time before our dying breath.
I want to hope in this truth. I want to believe not only that God can, but that He will, give me victory. It may not look the way I thought it would. It may not happen the way or at the time I hoped it would. But it will happen. And it will only happen by His power, in His time, for His glory.
Still
DAY 2 of 40
Word of the Day: Still
Still: Of all the things I have figured out how to do, achieve and be, this one eludes me. Yet this is what God commands me to be if I am to demonstrate that I know that He is God, and I’m not.
One of the verses that I love most but have not yet figured out how to live is Psalm 46:10. Be still and know that I am God. Sounds simple enough, but it takes all of my will and several pounds of mustard seeds just for me to slow down and stop the whirring in my brain and heart for a few moments, let alone to actually be still.
Baffled by this, I meditated on Psalm 46:10 for awhile one time (while I was fixing dinner and conducting a few conference calls, of course).
Actually I tried, really tried, to get still and to stay still to listen to God. Not talk at Him a mile a minute, but to listen. And what I heard was the crescendo and decrescendo of a whisper from the Holy Spirit.
Be.
Be still.
Be still and know.
Know.
Know that I am.
I am.
Be still and know that I am.
I am.
I am God.
Still I am.
Still I know.
Still know that I am God.
Know that I am still God.
I am God.
I am your God.
God I am.
God I am still.
Be still.
Be.
My soul quieted for a little while and I just rested in the truths that this one verse reveals. Oh, what could happen if I could just plant this in my heart rather than letting it roll around my brain, not really getting it.
I love the saying, “I’m a human being. Not a human doing.” And yet my thoughts, actions, motives and even dreams belie the fact that I clearly believe that just the opposite is true.
God’s Word commands us to Be faithful. Be righteous. Be at peace. Be loving. Be humble. Be patient. Be obedient. Be on your guard against the Devil. Be on your guard against men. Be generous.
What does He command us NOT to be? Afraid. Over and over again, He commands us not to fear. And most often, the inertia that keeps me in the realm of doing, scurrying, whirring is driven from my fears.
I want to be a woman who lives her belief that she can be still and know that He is God. After all, if I can’t live as if God is infinitely big and powerful and present, how can I expect to help those I want most to know and trust Him, including my children, to believe it?
Pilgrimage Past 40
Today, I embark on a new writing project. I’m calling it, Pilgrimage Past 40. Today, August 8,, 2010, marks 40 days until I turn 40. Which I guess makes it sort of like Lent, but with wrinkles and cellulite instead of Resurrection waiting for me on the other side.
And so begins my pilgrimage. Is it mere coincidence that the word contains the words, “Grim Age?” Hmmm…. I’m not feeling grim, really. Disillusioned and baffled, and a little forlorn, but not grim. I don’t mind turning 40. But I do mind that what I thought 40 would hold for me back when I was 20 hasn’t come to pass. I’m sort of wallowing in the number of “By the time’s” that have not come true, as in, “By the time I’m 40, I’ll be a corporate executive, have a published novel and drive a Saab…”. And I’m relishing the “I’ll nevers” that have come true that I no longer abhor. As in, “I’ll never drive a mini van.” Or, “I’ll never live in a ranch house.” Or, “I’ll never use the lines on my children that my mother used on me.”
So I’ve spent some time coming up with a list of 40 words that either mean something to me now, or mean something DIFFERENT to me now than they did when I was younger. Each day between now and my 40th birthday, I’m writing a journal entry around one of these words, starting with a 40-word or less definition of the word as it relates to my life now. And I’ve been asked to share these entries with you. Please help me along the way with your comments, –letting me know I’m not the only one grappling with entering my 40s, and more aptly leaving my 20s and 30s…
Here are a few of the words and my 40-word (or less) definitions to come in the next few weeks.
- Commitment: What you can achieve with God’s help and a little willingness to love someone even when you don’t like them very much.
- Abundance: Possible only when you remove X from this formula. God + X = contentment
- Someday: The day with two faces, depending on which one you choose to see. Either an Angel bearing hope for time that passes. Or a Thief who can steal your ability to live this moment.
- Authenticity: What you embrace when false selves fail you and you realize that if others’ ugly endears them to you all the more, then maybe they could love you despite yours. And even if they didn’t, you could. And God does.
- Relationship: What happens when you’re willing to lean on and be leaned on, to show your ugly and love theirs, to laugh with them when they’re happy and you’re sad, and cry with them when you’re happy and they’re sad.
- Joy: The condition of a heart that neither has everything it wants, nor wants everything it has, but manages to find abundant blessings in the midst of living what is.
So I guess today starts with Pilgrimage. Some really smart academic guys studied this–probably devoted their whole lives to studying the concept of Pilgrimage. Which is funny. Maybe they worked so hard studying the concept of Pilgrimage that they never ended up going on one. You can read their “Amplified Definition” of pilgrimage at http://webjournals.alphacrucis.edu.au/journals/PCBC/vol1-no2/pilgrimage-an-amplified-definition/ . I found it pretty interesting, until I fell asleep.
Anyway, one of them named Alan Morinis said that Pilgrimage is, “A journey undertaken by a person in a quest of a place or state that he or she believes to embody a valued ideal.”
My Pilgrimage “place” is not a physical location. It’s a state of being and living. As I turn 40, my quest is to take some time as I officially enter (gasp) middle age to examine my spirit and ask myself, “What do I value, truly? Does my life adequately embody those values or ideals? Do I live them out? Where am I falling short?”
Frankly another big part of my quest is to get my mind and spirit right with the fact that I’m 40. Which evidently, by process of elimination, means that I’m no longer 20, or 30, or even 35. Yeah, when did THAT happen? I want to enter my 40s as a woman of Faith, Grace, Confidence and “Comfort in My Own Skin-ness.” That’s going to take some serious soul work over the next 40 days. Cuz I ain’t there yet.
I don’t know exactly where it’ll lead, but I plan to savor the journey. Come along with me, won’t you? And now that I’ve told you, I guess I have to really do it, instead of just talking about it! Stay tuned for more of the journey, my Pilgrimage Past 40.