The other side of gaining

Today, as I celebrate an answer to prayers, a substantial “gain” in my life, I am reminded of loss. Today, Luba left South Africa to come to the United States. I am stoked. I am thankful. Our dream has been realized. I am excitingly nervous. I am happy, really happy. This. Is. It. At the same time, I am sad. I am heartbroken in a way that cannot be described, but this heartbreak is not even a sliver of what his family feels. 

Today, I am reminded that gain is usually accompanied by some sort of loss. 

Throughout this process, I have tried to remind myself each time that I’ve celebrated steps and counted down days that I must honor the sacrifice of both Luba and his family. I’m going to be totally honest, in the beginning of this process I focused on my losses. It was all I knew. I’ve been in survival mode on my own for years. I borrowed loss from the future and neglected the present and more important, intangible and irreplaceable losses from him and his loved ones. I remember the day that it hit me in the gut, one of those powerful gut kicks from God. I was leaving my financial class at NewSong and thinking of the financial turmoil I felt myself walking into and the weight of becoming the “breadwinner.” Albeit temporary, I thought of what I would exclude from my budget that I loved. Would I give up the cute toe designs? I truly love them. They are my splurge and my 1 ounce of “girly-ness.” When I have children, will I be unable to work part-time or more so not have the choice? Would we have to have meatless dinners? The list of “what ifs” moved to the forefront replacing all the beauty and gifts I would gain with this relationship. Suddenly, I felt God say “Hey Selfish, wanna practice for marriage and actually start thinking about someone else?!?!” Images suddenly began rolling through my head, one after the other. A lot of those images were faces-his parents, his nephew. Luba’s face was there. I heard laughter from a boisterous close community. I heard songs in Xhosa that I knew from Sundays at Harvester Church where his dad pastors. The difference was that all of those things, people, places, identity, beloved country, culture, and friends were irreplaceable like my pedicure, groceries, money, etc. It was at that moment that I began to understand the depth of Luba’s future loss and his sacrifice so that I would gain, so that we would gain. I felt such shame. How had I missed something so simple? I knew that it was a wakeup call to do things as right as I consciously could until his arrival [which will continue after]. I began to seek out those who have immigrated here, especially those with a similar visa journey, for input on how to best make a house a home, how to keep reminders, etc. 

A shift started that day in my thinking and feeling. I’ve pursued that shift and continue to do so in order to be better prepared when he is here. I know I’ll mess up at times, but I’m committed to being conscientious. I was reminded that God has taken care of Luba to this point and will continue to do so. I assigned myself as “breadwinner.” I put on that weight I carried, no one else. I trusted God with the “big stuff” [which he answered in miracle after miracle] but I put myself back in control with the small details that I then let override the big. I had been my biggest obstacle. 

So today, I celebrate and look forward to the hugest exhalation I’ve ever produced once he shows up at LAX [tomorrow]. He has never been here and this will be my first time on this side of international arrivals. But today, I also mourn his departure with his family and for him. My promise to them is that I will do my very best and all that is in my power to maintain the connections. We will be and will lead a family by faith and trust in God. I’m committed to building a bridge between the two countries and incorporating South Africa into all possible. 

Nosipho & Mqokeleli (and the rest of the family), thank you for this precious gift and your sacrifice.

Love,

Danielle

Prioritizing friendships

I’ve been making invite lists for the wedding in April. It is a telling time trying to taper down all the people you know into less than 100 to comply with site guidelines. Unknowingly, it was an invitation to evaluate friendship, what it is to me, and what do I value in my relationships with women in particular. 

This blog aligns with my previous ones on women that you can find here, here, and here. As a single woman for more years than I expected, “women” and how to do "woman" well have been a passion of mine. I am not going to claim to know your circumstances, and I don't need to. I am not passing judgment on anyone here. I realize that I am not yet married. However, I hope that you will hold me accountable to what you read here because I will strive to be a good “girlfriend” to the women I care about. I also want to be a good “girlfriend” to myself. I am me. In addition, I am (to be) wife, sister, daughter, friend, SLP, etc. These are not compartmentalized. They are ME. 

I think the despair started as I began the list and forgot to include people that I have once known to the best of friends. How does that happen? If you are so close, what happened? For some of my friends, the friendship changed when a husband and/or children came. I know that I gave up. I have decided that after so many unaccepted invites, I am resigning as champion for a friendship. I get it that life has changed, but that does not change the value of my life and my time. We all live full lives. We are all "busy" but we all have the ability to prioritize and show that something has value. When you bring forth your busy married schedule so that I can fit into it, it unintentionally says "My schedule has more value." I get it that one could be dancing inside knowing that they are no longer on match.com when they listen to the woes of a friend. I get it that it feels like listening to a broken record sometimes. But listen past that, listen to the pain of a friend. A friend just wants to know that you are “really” present and always will be despite circumstances. Maybe you avoid because you don’t know what to say. Well, I know for a lot of my “crap” I’ve been through, I would love for someone to just say that they don’t know what to say but that they’ll sit with me. It doesn’t seem that hard to me but apparently it is. I hear this over and over again among my friends. What are we doing wrong?

At first, I felt like maybe there’s a different culture in California. I never experienced this incongruity with friendships in the South. My friends are my friends. I’ve had the same friends since junior high. I’m the last single one. Do I feel like it when I visit them? Nope. Do they go on and on about their children and isolate me in conversation? Nope. Do they make a point to make me a priority and visit me during my trips at my convenience? YES! I’ve never had a group of 4 girls first turn the convenience to “finding a sitter” or “other scheduled activities.” At this point, we don’t even have as much in common as I would expect but we are committed to each other. When we convene, we eat. We laugh. We share stories. We are women. The roles are like floating hats above our heads that do not hinder our ability to share. They do not allow us to compartmentalize or isolate. A few who have moved away from our hometown make the hour drive at the time that works for me as my time is limited when I’m home. Imagine that, the married with 2-3 kids each adhere to the single’s schedule. 

One of those girlfriends has been my friend since elementary school. It’s the kind of friendship that you hope never changes but secretly know may because of life circumstances. Luckily, it hasn't. My first recollections of Jennifer are from 1^st or 2^nd grade. We went to the same church and elementary school. We lived maybe a mile from each other. We remained close friends throughout senior year of high school seeing each other several times per week. College separated us and then my move to CA built a greater divide. I want to be better about talking to her between visits home but even though we don’t, all is the same when we get together. It feels like two high school girls chatting about the “goings on” that week and that no time has passed. She married and now has 3 children. She has been a role model on how to do friendships and marriage well. Her husband is supportive and will keep all of the children so that she can come out and visit. She and her husband have been one of my first models of a truly happy and healthy marriage. She has alternated her time between working as a Nurse Practitioner and being a stay-at-home mother. I’ve never heard her say “But the kids…” or “I’m so busy” when I’ve told her I’m coming home. I hear “when & where?” Our meet-ups over cocktails at a casino have become one of my highlights of going home. How does she grow more gorgeous by the year?! 

 e of my first models of a truly happy and healthy marriage. n come out and visit.  end. e guidelines

As I said before, I began to feel like maybe it’s the California lifestyle and culture. Thankfully, I was proven wrong. I have a great group of girlfriends that I met through work but I see often outside of work. Some of us have been in a cooking group for 2 years now. It’s been another opportunity to see women prioritize friendships and themselves for at least once monthly. We all dip into the various aspects of our lives from singleness to children to pain to celebrations.

Luckily, I was blessed with another beautiful woman who does “woman” and frankly, everything, well. I met Jennifer at work (another Jennifer!) and slowly began to know her outside of work. I was fascinated by her layers, more and more revealed through time. She kind of peels from “sweet friend” to “amazing cook” to “creative genius” to “Where do you hide your cape, Superwoman?” What I love about watching her life is that it is full. She’s married, mothers 3 girls (2 of which are twins), and works as a pediatric Occupational Therapist. She cooks “for real” dinners every night, and she is not on a rotating food schedule for convenience. She finds time for girlfriends. Sometimes it is paired with kids with other moms. Sometimes it is solo. She always attends our events that we have scheduled as a group. I see that the question for me when I see her at her best always seems to be “How do you do it all?” but I know from watching how much love that she invests in each person and project that the answer is simply because she wants to do it all.

What happens if we stop using our “busy schedules” or our kids as a barrier to friendships? 

Is it avoidance? 

Are we complacent instead of striving to be our best, something that can be spurred on by other close girlfriends?  

Or “you don’t know my husband….”? Yet I see YOU keep the kids while he prioritizes his friends and I watch you become more and more isolated

I get it, some friendships are transient and temporary. People come and go in our lives. this blog is meant to keep perspective in mind for those that you feel that you truly care about and consider closest friends.

Think about the last time you talked to or visited a “close friend.” Maybe a phonecall or a visit is due today or this week. Maybe you should ask what time is best for her, and not what works with your schedule as much. I'm not saying that you have to now devote a huge chunk to keeping friends, but rather, integrate it throughout your life. For some, there's a close friend that you've been putting off contacting for more than a year.

We have to continue working with each other, not against. I too embrace this challenge as my seasons are changing.

We must do “woman” well.

Love, 

Danielle 

Kisha, Natasha, Alisha & Jennifer, thank you all for going before and showing me the road to becoming a better friend, "balancer," mother, and wife--not to mention Christian woman.

Tim & Andy: BESIDE every good woman is an equally good man. Thank you modeling what it means to be a husband that cares for and prioritizes his wife's emotional well-being and healthy friendships. Thank you for all the childcare while your wives invested in other women.

Love for my small town

As most of you know, I was born and raised in a very small rural town in South Mississippi. I’ve posted on this before here, and you know I “puff up” when others say negative things about my beloved home state. On several days throughout any given week, I miss so many aspects of that life.

This past week was one of those weeks. I ached for this tiny town and the people who will always be family, “my” community. The ache started from news of a terrible tragedy that took the life of one young man who was just starting out his adult life at school at Mississippi State University. I was heartbroken. I was heartbroken even though I do not know the family personally. See, that is the beauty of my home town. There is a connectedness. Everyone knows each other or “of” each other. You can identify a family by asking “Who’s your dad/mom?” We celebrate together. We mourn together. We raise each others’ children. When one child passes, we mourn as an extended family. I still feel connected although I am 2000 miles away on the opposite coast. After news was received of this loss, Facebook instantly filled with offerings of condolences and assistance to the family. Several people, whether friends, acquaintances or strangers to this family, changed their profile pictures to this image as a visual token of support and encouragement. 

Just the visual representation of seeing this picture all down my newsfeed made my heart both ache and swell with gratitude. I’m so thankful towns like this still exist. 

Thinking of this brought back memories that are always at the forefront of my soul. My first job was as a Speech Pathologist for that county's school district. I loved it. I loved every minute of my work day. I loved every child that passed my way. I loved the parents, all of who dropped off their children in our care and never second-guessed our intent or actions. We were figures in children’s lives whose parents demanded and expected to be respected. Some of the children at my schools came from modest to low income households. Some lived in houses that would rival a 3^rd world country. Lives were filled with hurt and need but also with love and respect. I always had prizes for good behavior and children could trade in a punched token “card” for any tangible prize or other options. Many of those children who were like an "underdog" in school chose each and every time the reward of eating with me at the “teacher table.” The tangible toys that they did not have at home or the special candy treats they rarely got were passed over. As I even say this, my eyes fill with tears as images of their little faces come so clearly. We ate together, often just the two of us, away from the other teachers and students. I loved laughing at Little “C” stick a chicken leg in her mouth, and I kid you not, pull it out as a clean bone.  One swoop. Little “W” would sit oh-so-close to me, our chairs touching, as we rolled up our rectangular shaped pizza and ate it with grease rolling down our hands. No words were even needed. Little “W” also “somehow” always won a quarter when he beat me in a speech game and I’d watch him toddle through the lunch line and buy an extra milk with it. I die. These are the greatest stories of my life. 

I can say with certainty that it was during that job that my destiny and identity of who I am was solidified. It was there than I began to see that while I cannot do everything, I can do some small things that have a ripple effect that I may never know. It was there that I had my “1 single moment.”  Much of who I am today and how I perform my job and various roles can be traced back to 1 single moment. I remember it as if it were yesterday, even though it was probably 13 years ago. I had completed one year of work and was disappointed having been denied admission to the Master’s program for Speech Pathology. I signed on for another year. It was at the beginning of that year that I walked into the front office to learn that the father of one of our school’s children had been killed earlier that morning. I was devastated when it was confirmed that it was the father of two of my precious clients (siblings). I wrote a card to the mother and I loved on the children more than usual. We played more games. We hugged more. At the end of the year, I asked the kids to recast their favorite events or memories from the year. My “1 single moment” came as Little “C” started to say, “You respected my Dad even though you never met him. You thought he was a great man and you could tell by how he raised me and who I am.” He was reciting, months later, the words that I had written to his mother. In response to the question of “What will you remember about this year,” this sweet boy answered “You were there when my Dad died.” 

“C” taught me so much in that 5 minutes. I was speechless. I realized my supernatural ability to make a mark on the world for the better by “seeing” one person at a time, for taking the moment to put the words in my head onto paper so that they could be read over and over again until they were memorized and internalized. Since that moment, I pass on thoughts that come to mind as encouragement. I know that in most cases I’ll never know their impact or ripple effects. I don’t need to know. “C” had already shown me that kindness matters, and I was lucky enough once to know it and that is enough. 

So, Lucedale, I grieve with you and the Barker family. 

To those children, teachers & parents at Rocky Creek & Benndale, thank you for making me "me." You taught me my greatest lesson. 

With gratitude,

Danielle

On taking boudoir shots...

A month ago, I took boudoir shots.

I don’t even know where to start because I have so much to say about this topic.

First off, taking boudoir shots has always been a “bucket list” item for me. Catch that, “for me!?” I have always just wanted to capture a different side of me and have that to look back on when I’m old and less in love with my body. I love photography. I love taking pictures, having pictures to hold, and just looking at good photos. It never seemed anything to be but photos, just art. No negativity was attached to it.

Then I saw a post online. It was by a Christian woman who stated a negative comment regarding taking boudoir pictures for your husband. *Gulp* Your HUSBAND?!?! Creating pornographic pictures for your husband?!?! Now, this got me fired up on so many levels.

Did it change my mind about taking photos as an unmarried woman? No.

Will I let someone impose shame upon me and my body? No.

Didn’t God create our unique bodies and sex? 

Why do “Christians” have to turn sex and art into something dirty?

Why are these pictures "dirty" just because there is a bedroom ambiance? I’m fairly certain that I was more clothed than many teenagers on the beach frolicking after church. 

See, the part of that statement that fired me up most was HUSBAND. I firmly believe that acts in a healthy married relationship create intimacy, promote healing, and unlock barriers. I believe that sex is designed for just that. It is essential. I do not believe a woman using her body or "sexiness" to manipulate men is right, and that is not what I’m talking about. If your husband sees you nude after the shower, why can’t he see you semi-nude or nude in a photo that only he sees? While I do not feel that we are responsible for another’s sin, I feel that we can help husbands avoid looking elsewhere by appreciating our bodies as women and being intimate with a husband (which includes being adventurous and fun).

I’m not married yet so I have the disclaimer that I will have a lot to learn. But these are all my thoughts based on my own spirituality and what I know about God. I mean, God-God, not what any shamed-based religion told me about God.

I loved taking the shots. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It wasn’t awkward. Maybe it wasn’t awkward because my body is what it is and I own it. I don’t believe most women look like the women on the cover of magazines because I know they have been edited. We are imperfect. Our bodies tell stories. Each scar, stretch mark, or whatever tell some kind of story that most likely changed our lives in some way. Can we celebrate that? I live in my personal reality and not in the atmosphere that media has tried to dictate for me to reside.  Could I be skinnier? Yes. I refused to wait for that ever-changing "target goal weight" to take the pictures. What if I don’t get there? What if I gain weight? I’ll then want to be back here, now, at this weight. If I reach my target, I can celebrate with new pictures. 

It was so hard to actually choose less than 20 pictures from near the 2000 that I wanted to have forever in my possession. When I went in for the viewing, I was in awe of how beautiful I looked am.  The photographer did a fantastic job of catching the right moments and right angles to show my curves in the best way for me to better appreciate them. These are the same curves I see in the mirror and scheme methods to erase. 

I kept thinking how I wish that all women see themselves as they are in the photographs. The photographs are US. I chose not to be edited at all. No photo-shopping off arm fat.  No taking off extra tummy. I am me. I am beautiful. I am exactly who God created me to be.  I wrote a post before on how women should see themselves that you can read here. I imagine so many women holding their chins up higher when they walk in a room more confidently when they have that image in their heads of them in their photographs—NOT the image they see in the mirror at night or in the mornings when an inner voice whispers lies. 

This is a bucket list item that I loved checking off. I highly encourage ALL women to do this. If you need an excuse, sure do it for your husband’s birthday or a holiday or an anniversary. He will love it. But know that it is more than okay to do it for YOU!

You're beautiful. Believe it.

Love,

Danielle

 She is worth far more than rubies.

Proverbs 31:10