I am not who I used to be. I forget that. I forget that God has been writing a new story in my heart these past years.

Somewhere along the line I trade pointy toe shoes for chacos. I trade shopping trips to the mall for shopping trips to the farmer's market. I traded caring about what boys thought of me for wondering if my life reflected the love of Christ to a group of middle school girls. I traded the desire to live a posh life in a bit city working for a fashion magazine for the desire to live simply and love extravagantly. To have a home full of laughter, love, a garden, chickens, children, and Jesus and (hopefully) a bearded, storytelling, music making husband. Somewhere along the line in the process of breaking my heart God has put something more breathtaking together. I am not who I used to be.

And lately I have forgotten that. I have forgotten that I have a story. A small and simple one but a beautiful one.

I wrote what is below a few months ago. And it made me remember instead of forget.

I look in the mirror and i barley recognize the face that looks back. My heart has changed over these years and i see it most in my eyes. i am gentler. i am more at peace. i have known the bottom and i know i am not there anymore. It just took me a long time to finally see who i became in the process.
My life has changed beyond recognition this past year. I suppose that is what happens when you let go of all your own plans and fall into Jesus. This is not the life i envisioned but i think it is the one i have longed and hoped for. This season has seemed like an eternity. and there has been celebration and there as been some deep heartache. I wish i could say i am happy. That i am finally at the point where all the pieces come together.
But i am not. and i am unsure if i ever will be,
But i am hopeful and joyful. And what i am learning is that it is alright to be those things amidst dark and difficult days. It is not surrendering when i hold unto joy and out for hope. Indeed it is the opposite.
I think through this process I have learned to breathe and to live.
Now I am going to learn to rest in that. I need this time.
Right now it is grey out and it is one of those cold February days that make me feel as if winter will last forever. but it wont. These dark cold days will pass. Life, spring WILL come. It will in my heart and in Michigan. I think that has to be enough for now. That I cannot see it but I can know and can hope in that.

are you a dreamer?

I kid watch (aka nanny). And the kid watching and me have a love hate relationship. There are days that I wonder why at 21 I have opted to basically raise someone elses children. On the days where Adam hits Molly and then proceeds to tackle the puppy, who loudly cries. Only to tell me as I give him a time out that he did not hit Molly and that he was only tickling the dog and she was laughing. Those days I question my sanity. Maybe I should do a more normal twenty something job; like being a waitress. But then I would have to deal with rude men and people who endlessly complain about their food instead of three year old temper tantrums. And really I am better with the temper tantrums.



There are also days like last friday. Days that make me realize I get paid eleven dollars an hour to relive childhood. I get paid to play on playgrounds, blow bubbles, make abstract art with sidewalk chalk, go bug hunting, read where the wild things are ( about a million times). And for someone whose childhood was interrupted and cut short, this job can be a blessing.



Driving to work on friday I saw this little girl. She was probably in first or second grade. She was skipping along with her friend wearing a giant pink tutu. I smiled. For all I know she had a class project but I am choosing to believe the scene went a bit different. I am choosing to believe that that kid picked that tutu out to wear. That she came downstairs and her mom just let it go. Because as an almost sorta kinda fake parent I have learned you pick and choose your battles. And clothing is usually one smart parents do not go up in arms and call in the troops for. So I am hoping that that girl wore that tutu because she wanted to.



Seeing that girl made me think of my six year old self. I danced to the beat of my own drum; figuratively and literally. I was a free spirit kid. We have this video of my dance class. All the girls are gracefully following the teacher. Then there is me; haphazordlyspinning around and leaping in the air. And like that little girl I wore what I wanted. My favorite outfit consisted of these (awful) black stretch pants with neon geometric shapes and some crazy shirt. And the thing was I had a closet full of frilly dresses and cute clothes ( i was the first granddaughter). But despite some good efforts by my mother I never wore them. Seeing that girl made me remember who I was when I was little. It made me remember that I was the kind of kid with a big imagination and even bigger dreams. I was a hopeful child full of life.



I am not sure when but I lost all that I once was as a child. Maybe it was in 4th grade when my dad moved out and a strange new man moved in. Maybe it was amid all the screaming family fights that occurred after that event. Maybe it was at fifteen when my mom kicked me out out of our house if I didn't agree with her. And as I sat at my dads with tears streaming down my face with my four year old sister asking, " Doesn't your mommy love you." Maybe it was then. I am not sure. But I know I lost my carefree nature and fearlessness to live. I lost my innocence and my ability to dream. I have been trying to regain it all ever since. And for a while there i was becoming my six year old self ( minus the stretch pants) again.



So I drove the rest of the way to work remembering childhood. And the day was not one full of frustration but funny sayings. Adam, who is five, can make me more upset than anyone but he can also make me laugh like no one else. We spent most of the day outside with him telling me stories. Then we had to get his sister from second grade. So i loaded the three year old in the stroller and headed for the school. As we are walking Adam stops and asks me to read this piece of paper he has had in his pocket. I stop and read.



" You have lots of big dreams. Go for them!"

Adam took the paper back and we kept walking. Then after I had pushed the stroller about a block Adam stops and says, " I do Ally, I do have big dreams."

I smiled but I could feel some tears forming in my eyes. For some reason I thought of just a few hours before. Adam was playing, Molly taking a nap and I was folding laundry listening to Ray Lamontange. And as Ray's voice began to sing, "Worry, worry, worry, worry Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone", I began to cry. It was ridiculous. I was rolling up socks and tears were just streaming down my face. Worry, oh man, I had been so worried about so many adult things. Bills and relationships and work and trying to figure out what I am actually doing with my life. When Adam told me he had big dreams I remembered I did too. I remebered that there is something more to life than worrying all the time.

This season, these past few months have been hard to say the least. And I have been in great danger of letting some really broken things obscure the good in my life. I had watched so much in my life crumble and fall apart. I was tired and weary. The only prayers I had left were the desperate type. Crying silent tears curled up in my bed in the middle of the night prayers. I am so grateful that God listens.

Sometimes life is not at all that we envisioned. And I think we have a choice. A choice to despite the brokenness claim the beauty of a God who makes all things new. A God who takes broken and makes so much better than we could ever imagine. A God who is in the mess of this world. A God who loves immensely and holds our hands. For a while I knew this but I did not choose it. But God is gracious and oh so patient. For a while now I have been trying to live by what I know.

So when Adam said what he said and I remembered the tutu girl. I remembered that I am going to make it. I remembered that I have dreams. Dreams of sharing a home full of love, laughter, good music, children, and Jesus with (hopefully) a bearded, storytelling husband. Dreams of having chickens, growing a garden, and living simply.Dreams of telling the story that God has been writing on my heart. Dreams of living fearlessly and fully. And those dreams are worth holding onto. I know some of them are simple and some of them are silly. But I also know they are worth fighting for. I know that this, life, it is not easy. But I also know that it is a glorious gift from God. I don't know about you but I want to live my life well. I want to wear it out. Because the thing is Jesus didn't die on the cross fro me to kinda sorta halfway live. He came to give me ( and you for that matter) abundant life. I think living that life means living with abaondon and discovering the dreams that God has put on our hearts.

So I am taking that five year old boys words to heart. I have spent far too much of my ( so far) adult life asleep. I have spent far too much time not actually living. I have spent far too much time afraid, worried, and wondering. Now, now I am finally waking up. And now I want to dream. I want to really life, I mean really live. I want to be wide awake and dreaming. I think the world needs that.

I am going to be a dreamer.

wise words

Maybe i will regret this. This idea to write my thoughts on the world wide web. Maybe it will be like when i was sixteen writing on xanga. Then a few years down the road I will read all my old entries and laugh for hours at how silly it all was. And then i will erase all my posts and try to forget about half the things i wrote.

or maybe not

Maybe after five years i have something worth saying. Something more than alluding to how i feel for some boy. Something more than insignificant high school rambling. Maybe i have wiser words to write this time around.

or maybe not.