Thursday, December 23, 2010


I have never been very good at waiting.  I don't deal well with delayed gratification.  I am just not a patient person.  I have been thinking about this theme lately - waiting.  I've written here before that I don't want to wait until I'm in my 50s to start living - like so many women of my mother's generation.  But I've come to realize lately that's it is important that I wait.  Not to start living, but to understand that there is a time and a season for everything and that acquiring life wisdom is important and will help me become who I dream to be.  That 35 is young..  That's hard for me to say.  Everyone keeps telling me what I have accomplished, but I'll be honest, I don't see it.  I feel like there's more.  Like I should be and have and do more.  I know intellectually it's a litle ridiculous, but I don't know how to KNOW it.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


I haven't blogged in a while, but I read this today and in case anyone is reading, I had to share - it's from  You can read the entire post here, but this is the "Commitment of Words."  I need this to take this challenge:

A Commitment of Words

We commit to using our words to defend and heal, not to harm.

We will not gossip.

We will not belittle.

We will guard our sisters by always speaking the best about them, encouraging them into all God would have them to be, and offering grace instead of condemnation.

We will be loyal and loving, remembering that even if we disagree we still fight on the same side–never against each other.

We will use our words to build up not tear down, to bring hope and not hurt.

We offer our words as a powerful weapon to fight for each other on the side of all that is good, right, and true.

Saturday, October 30, 2010


So, I signed up to be a consultant for a company called Thirty-One. It is a home party business that sells adorable bags and organizing products - most of which can be personalized. I never thought I would do a business like this, but I am really excited about this opportunity.  First, I love the products and I kept finding myself buying them, so I decided I should at least get a discount.  But second, what really drew me to the business is the company's mission and the origin of the name.  Thirty-One comes from Proverbs 31, the passage about the virtuous woman.  If you've been following this blog, you may remember that this passage is a theme in my life.  The company is dedicated to celebrating women and they go so far as to make sure their products are manufactured by women owned businesses.  I love it.  We'll see how it goes.  If you're interested in the products or would like to host a party - either in person or online - and earn free products, visit my site.

Thursday, October 28, 2010


The first time I met Trevor was our freshman year of college.  He was a tall, thin and animated redhead.  He was definitely an attractive guy, and aside from the fact that redheads really are not attracted to other redheads, at that age where I was boy crazy and generally attracted to anyone who paid attention to me, I never felt that for him - in a romantic way.  But I was instantly attracted to him as a person and our brother/sister love for each grew very quickly.  He soon began dating my best friend.  And while they were a lot of fun, it never really seemed right and fizzled out soon and quite dramatically.  The next few years, my frienship with Trevor sometimes strained my friendship with my best girl friend.  But it continued to grow and there came a day when I didn't remember life without him. 

When we first met, I really didn't know anyone who was gay.  I know I had met them and I know I had heard them talked about at my church and I knew that I was supposed to think they were doing something wrong.  Over the next few years, I believe God began to prepare me for what would happen after college graduation.  Slowly, I began to encounter gay people who challenged my world view and my church upbringing.  I was very close to two people who showed me examples of Christ in remarkable ways and I had to struggle to reconcile that with the fact that they were gay.  All the while, people began speculating about Trevor.  And at every speculation, I dismissed it, because he did.  Eventually, it even became a joke among our mutual friends, and I joined in the joking and teasing.  After graduation, we worked together (well, that's a loose description, actually he paid me to hang out at his place of business) and in that year between college and my exit to law school, we became even closer and we began to learn that friends of ours from college were coming out of the closet.  And the jokes continued.  But in the back of my mind, I knew. 

I remember the phone call.  I was in my living room in my apartment in South Bend.  I listened as he told me and I cried.  I cried and I apologized, over and over.  How could I have been so insensitive?  How could I have contributed to his apparent need to continue to hide who he was?  And how could I have let my friend, my brother, suffer in silence when if I was honest with myself, I knew the truth?  I am going to send this to him and he is going to tell me this is way too dramatic.  And I'll admit my bent toward that at times, but to this day, I remember conversations where we made fun of him and joked about the possiblity that he was gay and they haunt me. 

Since then, I have watched Trevor grow and change and come into his own.  He has a wonderful, loving partner who complements him and brings out all of his best qualities.  He has built an amazing, successful business and he is proud of who he is.  And now, he is the father of a wonderful 7 year old boy who has been waiting his whole live for two people to love and care for him. 

When we found out we were pregnant with our second son, we went through a whole litany of names and we just couldn't find one that we loved.  We thought we had used the names of the only men in our lives who were worth naming children after with our first child (yes, the list is unfortunately short).  But one day, Carl came to me and said, "I like Trevor."  He liked the name, and as he pointed out, it was the name of a man we both love and respect.  I resisted at first.  I could just hear various people in my life and their reactions and frankly, I didn't want to deal with.  But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.  So we decided on it and I told people, including Trevor, "we really like the name and it happens to be the name of my good friend, but we aren't naming him after Trevor."  I type that and I laugh, and am embarassed . . . and ashamed.  Was I really afraid of telling people I named my son after a gay man - who I claimed to consider to be my own brother?  Well, eventually I came around and I tell everyone that Trevor is named after . . . Trevor. 

I've been thinking about all of this lately and felt compelled to write about it because of all the talk of the Trevor Project - a suicide hotline for gay and questioning youth.  Obviously, anyone who loves someone who is gay is moved by the rash of suicides among gay kids lately and obviously, anyone who has children is moved.  The fact that one of the many gay people I love and my son share the name of an organization dedicated to this cause won't leave my head.  And I want to do something.  Right now, all I can do is write about it and commit to loving my children and teaching them to love.  But at some point, I know I am called to do more.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010


A few weeks ago, my husband and I were at a party when one of our friends started a conversation about his theory that everyone has a phobia and everyone has a vice.  He asked what ours were.  The answer to the first part is easy - I'm claustrophobic.  The second half was a little harder.  Initally, I wanted to say alcohol, but I was afraid that would sound like I had a problem. So, I asked my husband what he thought.  He hesitated and I said, "well, I almost said alcohol," and quickly, he said "I was going to say wine."  Clearly, he didn't want to offend me or sound like he was implying something bad.  He went on to explain that it wasn't so much wine as the "experience."  He described how my whole demeanor changes from the minute I take out the corkscrew and start opening the bottle.  How he sees my wholel body relax.  And I chimed in that it had to be in a large, red wine glass.  He said, "sometimes I think it could be water in the glass and she would be just as happy." 

It might sound crazy, but this was a pretty monumental conversation.  I feel like one of those light bulbs in cartoons appeared over my head.  I put down the cheap wine I was drinking out of the small plastic glass and made a conscious decision not to drink/eat/put things in my home/wear things that I don't love.  I don't like bad wine.  I don't like drinking any wine out of plastic glasses.  But I do love wine.  And big red wine glasses.  I don't know a lot about it beyond what tastes good to me.  I would like to know more, though, so last week, I ordered two wine tasting books off of Amazon and I went down the road to the neighborhood liquor store and asked for a bottle of reasonably priced wine that I had a restaurant recently - that I loved. 

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Things I Love

I am trying to remember the things I love.  I keep talking to other women about the fact that we are geared to put others' needs, opinions, desires, wants, etc. before our own and so many of them identify with it. 

I asked my husband this question the other day:  "What is my favorite restaurant?"  He paused for a long time and then answered with one of our favorite places in Los Angeles, where we lived over 6 years ago.  Then, I said, "no, what is my favorite restaurant here?"  He couldn't answer.  But more telling is this - neither could I.

 I have a lot of opinions - about politics, people, religion . . . and I am never afraid to offer them, but I have been surprised to realize that I have put all my opinions about things in every day life to the side because it is easier to concede to the desires of those I take care of and interact with on a daily basis.  Because my husband loves music and while I love it also, I don't have the same passion he has, I have let him control the music choices - in the house, in the car, on our computer - I don't even have a single song loaded on my iphone.  Because we have children, if we go out for a meal as a family, we choose a place where we know they will be happy and there will be choices for them.  Because my husband has very definite opinions about restaurants and I tend to be a little easier to please in that arena, if we go out without the kids, I generally let him pick.  I let him bring a couch into our house that I hate to replace ones that I really liked because it just didn't seem worth the fight. 

I'm certainly not looking for sympathy here.  And I don't intend to paint a poor picture of my husband.  My point is just that I forgotten who I am and I forgotten what I love - in everyday life.  I'm on a quest to find those things again.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Finding Me NOW

I don't want to wait until my kids are grown to live my life.  Have you ever noticed that this is what the majority of women of my mother's generation did?  They stayed in unhappy marriages, worked jobs they didn't like, failed to take care of their bodies - until their late 40s or early 50s - then, all of the sudden they came into their own.  They found themselves and now they are more beautiful, more vibrant and more powerful than ever.  At the same time, many of them seem full of regret.  And often, they are lonely.

I am not advocating selfishness or irresponsible choices in the name of "happiness,"  but I want to find my true self, be authentic, NOW so I can be the best for my kids and my husband in these years, not later.  I know that my mom's generation stuck it out in whatever situation - marriage, kids, etc. - because they did not want to be selfish.  They were groomed to put everyone else's needs before their own.  And I admire the sentiment.  I also know there is a whole generation (mine) that often rejects that way of thinking and makes rash decisions in the name of "happiness," and I don't want that.  But it seems it's time for a balance.  We just are not wired, as women, to take care of ourselves, are we?

I want everyone in my family to experience a peaceful, joyful, authentic life.  I want that to be the example I set for my children.  I especially want my boys to see that women are supposed to be whole people - not martyrs who deny who they truly are.  If anyone knows the secret to this balance, I'm all ears.