God is endlessly creative in how he shares his presence with each of us. And the specific way he chooses to connect with you matters. What is the tie that binds you to God?

Being open to hearing God binds me to him in many ways. He uses anything and everything to relay messages and reminders.

There is the ocean. I have a love for water and waves and warm sand in my toes. The sheer amazement at what lies beneath and that has been thought up and created at each glance of its vastness.

And there is my children. Having that similar context of God as the father and how he gently parents us, has changed the analogy and deepened the meaning of the name. The way he cares for me is far greater than that of me for my children. That never ceases to amaze and keep me centered in his unfailing love.

Over the past few years, it has been writing. This flow of words and inspiration and trust in him has forever changed my relationship with God, nearly asmuch as having children.

Writing has forced me to trust him more than I have and has made my analytical self a little less so, as I pick and choose the way I want it to sound, though interpretation of the words are taken at the experiences and background of the reader, something beyond my control.

Lack of tone or set pace of writing makes it a little harder to convey words. They may seem cold or hard to those who do not understand or sweet as honey to another. They are put in black and white and taken as they are. And it is funny how one simple thing like a word changes the meaning of so much.

Perhaps that is why I wrote in pencil for so many years. Ink stays but lead can be erased and edited and changed without messing up the page with evidence.

Writing in black and white keeps me focused and relying on God to do his thing. Writing keeps me in prayer and my thoughts grounded. It keeps me depending on God to inspire and be transparent.

Writing has been an adventure in obedience and stepping out of my usual comfort zone. It has been a constant reminder that I am not God and cannot understand how he works or the reasons behind how he works and that when I listen, he moves.

It has been texts and emails and conversations of how God used a message at just the right time. How it was something a friend needed to hear. And those are usually the hardest ones to share and that I would rather not. But He says to push the button and keep going and then is kind enough to see little fruits of the words and obedience of stepping forward.

It has been a series of coming alive and a fresh breath, along with feet scraping the ground with white knuckles as I learn to let go and trust him. It has been learning how to take time away from everything else to listen and relish in words and thoughts and scripture; just a few of my favorite things.  

Here's to ties and God. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Although we can't make everything okay, we can show up and show love in the middle of whatever's going on. How have the people in your life been there for you when you needed them? Is there anyone who's going through a difficult time that you need to reach out to?

My Aunt Karen is one of the sweetest, most genuine women. The kind who would truly give you the shirt off her back. She wears her heart on her sleeve and finds humor in just about anything. She is stern when she needs to be but knows how to have fun. Our shared Pacific Islander decent makes her that much more interesting, as some Pigeon slips in her speech from her years spent on the island, giving her a bit of an accent and conversations a sense of heritage and richness.

When my world crumbled and my parents parted ways as the divorce papers were signed, her doors were always open.

My younger sister, Carrie, and I found refuge in her home after school, hanging out with our cousins watching countless episodes of Maury. We spent more nights than I can calculate sleeping over while our address was to be established.

She had food on the stove or in the cupboard or in the fridge and it was almost a sin not to accept something, as she repeatedly told us to eat something. Fresh rice could be found on the counter to go along with practically every food group.

Then there was Kristina's. Her parents were about to embark on the same journey as mine, though neither of us knew as I spent a few nights sleeping awkwardly on her floor and eating her mom's chicken adobo.

There was also Josh's mom, Debbie. She was short in height but immense in hospitality and personality. She was not afraid to be herself and took us as the mess we were. After my aunt moved to South Carolina, she opened her doors to us. Always understanding and sharing stories of when she was younger. Stories with the use of the word harlot and giving us a semi description of the new to us word, which we added to our vocabulary. Josh stirred Kool Aid in the kitchen, as music videos played on the television in the living room. We hung out after school when it rained and during school breaks and at the park nearby.

And of course there was Senia's home. Always open to whomever wandered in, with room on the couch and food to sooth the soul. We shared lays potato chips topped with lemon juice and tapatio. We ate her dad's homemade refried beans and chile rellenos and rice.

The awareness of needing people was never in my mind at the time but people were always there, meeting needs I never knew existed and filling voids that needed filling, never trying to fix the problem or find a solution but simply being there. They were a landing spot and a place to go and a little anchor in the uncharted waters we were wading through. Sometimes when we need the help the most, we have no idea what we need and have no words to articulate the growing demands of our circumstances as we dance and twirl through them.

And then God places people, people who meet the needs before we have time to see them. People who have eyes to see it and hearts to carry out the love needed to gently guide us  towards shore, after our world bottoms out and there is nothing to fall back on or no normal for reference or rhythm to make. They can see it and they help as best as they know how. 

Here's to people and meeting needs. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Catching on: have you ever been so caught up in a good cause that you lost sight of the people around you? Take a little time today to lay aside your agenda and listen for what God is asking you.

Since college, tasks can take a priority over people and being an introvert plays in to that. I thrive off solitude and creating, which can be beneficial or destructive in any given circumstance. I am a recovering Type A task oriented person and constantly ask God to open my eyes to those around me, to really see. Especially to see my children. Those closest in proximity and heart.

Taking care of small children can be draining and exhausting and transitions, even the smallest things like upgrading from crib to toddler bed can feel like moving mountains.

Towards the end of summer and beginning of fall Jude, just over eighteen months, decided it was time to make that switch. It was time to get a big boy bed, like his sister's. After climbing out of his crib and refusing to sleep, though he was tired, so unlike himself, it was time to give in. 

My friend, knowing of our predicament, tagged me in a post on a Facebook children's site that was selling an identical bed to my daughter's. Perfect timing. 

We purchased the bed and the sweet lady even threw in a brand new Cinderella dress up dress, which my daughter had just been praying and asking God for a few days before.

The weeks that followed were hard. My son refused to stay in his bed and was tired and crying and I was starting to mirror him, while caring for an infant and active four year old. I was praying Galatians 6:9 regularly: let us not grow weary of doing good, for in the proper time we will reap a harvest and looking for the good because life was good, just harder.  

Early October found me sitting in a prayer room, while a new friend prayed for me and the Holy Spirit reminded me to see my children. To see truly see them. To see their eyes and their needs and their wants. To see their hears. To see past the outbursts and tasks at hand and look at them how He does.

He reminded me that as I delight in my children, he also delights in me. He sees me. He sees them. And it was this beautiful reminder of opening my eyes to my children, not their requests for more snacks or putting them back to bed for the hundredth time but to see them for who they are now and not what they are doing, whether positive or negative. Simply, to love them as they are.

And with that, he gave me new eyes to see each one. Each perfectly formed person, bubbling with personality and laughter and love and a little crazy.

There is a fine line between caring for the tasks of children and putting out fires and enjoying the entirety of mamahood. It is that line that can make it easy to miss out on truly seeing them or hearing their hearts, especially during transitions, which seem to be the only constant. And it just may be, that people the closest are the hardest to truly see, until we stand back and take a breath to focus and ask God to give us a fresh look.

Here's to new sight for the people around you. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

So many people around the world lack a source of clean water altogether and are vulnerable to water - borne illnesses. How could you help with this global need?

Water has always been my favorite beverage of choice. Water bottles have always found a space in my backpack and purse and empty water bottles scattered the floor of my car during the busyness  of college and work. The taste of different brands of water is evident, not all water tastes the same and when it is constantly consumed, it is easy to tell the difference. My taste buds favor Crystal Geyser, its red and blue label occasionally peaking out of my bag these days.

California has been in a drought for several years now and water has been a hot topic.

Signs along the freeway boasting: Conserve Water and buses around town covered with information on which days we can water our lawns. How to cut back on water use and not washing cars at home are new city marketing campaigns. Water. It is the source of life.

In January, we received an alert from the city stating our water could be contaminated with bacteria and a boiling alert was advised but not mandatory. Other articles came out to say that local water levels have been below par and have been experimented with for a few years.

After Christmas I came down with a virus and was sicker than I have ever been and would have done natural child labor for a third time, if given the option. After a few trips to Urgent Care and the ER, nothing was clearly determined other than it was a virus. A virus that mostly went away after a week and then came back, though thankfully not in full force, to which my doctor concluded was a stomach infection and sent me home with some strong antibiotics that eventually defeated whatever it was.

I have no idea whether it was something in the water. But it opened me up to the logistics of not having clean water and what those repercussions could entail.

I never have had to boil water for safe drinking but we did, for just bit until we made to the store where there was only a few gallons left of water on the shelf to purchase. We pulled our big pots and pans out of the cupboard, filling each one with water and waiting for them to reach a boil and setting the timer for three minutes because according to the alert, three minutes will kill possible bacteria and then realizing just how long it takes for water to cool to room temperature.

And naturally thoughts starting steeping. Was it safe to brush our teeth with this water? Or rinse off our vegetables? Or wash our dishes?

I am not in to living life based on fear but with towns like Flint, Michigan and their water issues  here in America, where plumbing and faucets are the norm, it could happen anywhere.

Around my birthday, I came across Life Water, an organization that helps provide clean water for those without access to it, which I ever so slightly know the feeling of now and thought it would be fun to support due to my constant love of water.

They have awesome ways to donate, like inviting family and friends to help give others water in lieu of giving presents, so I made a little campaign and a few gave water to others. If you have a minute, check out this video and see how you can be involved in providing the gift of water.

Here's to clean and healthy water. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

How to do you feel about your body? Do you feel connected to it? Do you feel respect for it? How do you nurture it? How do you challenge it?

The curves and ups and downs of the cursive letter F has always bothered me. With two in my name, they were constantly nemeses to write in my younger years. The awkwardness of two directly next to each other made writing them torture. I never liked the dips or the way the top seemed lopsided and the bottom too heavy. No uniform could be found between the lines, unbalanced and messy. And its connotation with negative performance did not help it much.

As I scrawled words across the page recently and found myself making the familiar loops, forming an F with grace, I was surprised to find myself admiring its structure and shape. They fit in perfectly next to the other letters, their loops adding to the cohesiveness and beauty of the word's entirety.

Perhaps it is due to over two decades of experience with lines and doodles and scratches hitting the page or simply a change in perspective. Fresh eyes have a way of changing the surface unlike any other.

Fresh eyes come in many sizes and varieties and circumstances we cannot always control, surprising us along the way.

Respect for my body has been the same process. The wrong curves in the seemingly wrong places were in the forefront of my mind during adolescence and nothing could figure itself out. Awkward and unbalanced and messy and insecure described it so well.

My body has been sweeter to me than me to it. I have always been rough and hard on it. Demanding more from it than nurturing it, not intending to but rather expecting that is what it does. 

Diets of Cheez it's and Jack in the box tacos in high school and Crystal Light packets and more Cheez it's in college, along with Doritos and ice cream. It was for me to use, not something to treasure. 

A passionate nutrition teacher at the end of college and birthing two babies has changed my perspective and given me new eyes for my body, along with lots of prayers.

As the scale raced high in number than I had ever seen with each monthly pregnancy appointment, insecurity started settling in. And the thoughts of what would become after. The stretch marks. The post baby weight. The possibility of the skin shrinking back to its original state.

All the while my body was growing a new life, I hardly gave it the credit it deserved. The things it knew to do that I could not even imagine or completely understand. It performed perfectly. Twice. Graciously without stretch marks or extra skin after.

After much prayer and listening to God, genuine appreciation and gratitude has set in deeply. 

Thankful for ears to hear and eyes that see. For the freckles and each functioning limb, able to run and hug my children and chase them around the back yard. For the blonde hair I covered for years and the fingers that type the words out as they come to fruition.

And these days, I am a lot nicer to by body. Intentionally feeding it more wholesome food and salads when I can remember. But some days, I forget and God gently reminds me of the gift that my body is. How he does not make mistakes and how we are all knit together perfectly and made in his image. And how his love is not based on looks or performance but simply because he made us and we are his.

Here's to our body and being nicer to it. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Have you ever run a marathon, or fulfilled some other physical goal that pushed you beyond what you had thought you could do? What did you learn from that process?

I have hardly set physical goals for myself that I can recall. I move when I need to and run when I can. Usually a mile or two in after morning devotions and before breakfast on good days.

The majority of my physical exercise comes in the form of chasing children around the house and parks and stores. With a backpack full of water and snacks for three and wearing an 18lb child, the work out comes naturally.

In elementary school, I once did a six minute mile. Not by choice or determination, rather by chance. I starting running our weekly mile with a different friend that day because my usual running partner was home sick. She was the fastest girl in class and a soccer player, not something I had taken in to consideration at the starting point. 

Running was not something I excelled in or cared much for at the time but as we started running I found myself keeping up. My lungs breathing heavy and my feet moving fast. The rest of the class followed behind, my breath lost back with them somewhere. We arrived back the starting point with our time given out. I had never been that fast and my body told me so, as I walked a little light headed and dizzy to the drinking fountain, recovering slowly.

Exercise became a means to deal with stress in junior high and high school. I never minded the running in class and would do laps around my neighborhood, processing life as my feet moved one in front of the other.

Pushups and sit ups worked their way in to a nightly routine, too. Though I hardly recall how.

Running and exercise and life can be determined by speed and accomplishments. How many marathons we have taken part in or races finished or the place earned. It can be by where we graduated from or who we married or how many children we have.

Life can be tied up in keeping up with everyone else's pace. A pace not marked out for us, nor one that will resemble the likeness of how we were created and will leave us feeling heavy and lacking oxygen.

Life is best enjoyed with others surrounding and encouraging the running and goals and God adventures. Life is best enjoyed at our own paces and meeting when our paths cross, not increasing speed to collide.

But when it happens that the feet hit the pavement harder and quicker than they should, here's to walking. To slowing down and enjoying the view and others along the way.

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

"Someday can be a seductive word. It carries intent and promise, that certain things will eventually be part of our lives. But it also lets us off the hook. Is there anything in your life that's living in the distant could of "someday"? What's keeping you from moving and working toward it now?

When you are living out your somedays it is hard to ponder what else could be. While sweeping the floor one evening a few weeks ago, this realization came to me yet again. Everything I have ever wanted is before me, in my hand.  

In junior high English, we had to write a letter to our future self. The self that was graduating and moving beyond public education. It was a letter stating the hopes and dreams of our junior high self. What we thought life would look like at the time we dawned our green and white graduation caps and tassels and what it currently looked like as we scrolled the letters across the page, sitting in our brown desks.

I never ended up receiving my letter after graduation, perhaps all the moving and lack of address made it difficult to find its way to my doorstep. But my somedays were pretty generic and easy to recall.

Someday after high school I would go to college, majoring in teaching and minoring in writing. Someday I would get married and someday we would have children. Someday we would probably buy a house. And in doing those things, life would be filled and the happily ever after must be the result.

I went to college, though majoring in Apparel Marketing and Design as my creative side got the best of me and married one semester before graduation. Three children now share our last name and snuggles and laughs and a cozy rental home. It is not exactly what my twelve year old self had painted but the frame work is pretty close, and close enough in terms of horse shoes and hand grenades, as my dad reminded me while growing up.

Nothing is how I had pictured it would unfold in the day to day or perhaps I never was that detailed with the somedays. Nothing is perfect or without its challenges. Melt downs and tantrums and spilled milk and messes of any sort make up our everyday, along with endless lap sitting with books in hand and  swinging and piggy back rides and diaper changes.

But the frame work is solid. It is there and it is there that gratefulness has cultivated itself against the hard sheet rock of the daily duties and struggles to find the joy and fully embracing life.

And sometimes it can be a little eerie and I find myself asking what else? Is there something more?

And it is there that God throws in the surprises and reveals new mysteries and challenges and the unfolding of his plans. It is there that thankful hearts overflow for the framework, though in different shades and tones than could ever be imagined, and a constant reminder of his grace and love is renewed. And all of it is nothing short of a miracle.

Here's to somedays. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.